My lady stood up--she had risen to her feet in her wrath against Algernon--big, florid, loud of voice, and vehement of will, and looked down upon her husband in his invalid's chair. And as she looked into his face she perceived, and acknowledged to herself, that it would not do to drive him to extremities; that on this occasion neither indolence, habit, and bodily weakness on the one hand, nor sheer force of tongue and temper on the other, would avail to make him succumb to her. She changed her tone, and began to give her view of the case. She gave it the more effectively in that she spoke the truth, as far as the representation of her genuine opinion went. She did not believe a word about Castalia's having stolen money-letters. (Lord Seely winced when she blurted out the accusation nakedly in so many words.) Not one word! As to the gossip in Whitford, that might be, or might not; they had but Ancram's word for it. If Castalia _was_ in this nervous, miserable state of mind; if she did pry on her husband, and prowl about the post-office, and even open his letters (_that_ might be; nothing more likely!); if all these statements were true, what conclusion did they point to? Not that Castalia was a thief (my lord put his hand up at the word, as if to ward off a stab), but that she was _insanely jealous_. The suggestion brought a gleam of comfort to Lord Seely. And it approved itself to his reason. The one explanation was in harmony with all that he knew of his niece's character. The other was not. "Jealous, eh, Belinda?" "Of course! _Insanely_ jealous, that always was her character, when she lived in our house. She was jealous of Lady Harriet Dormer; she was jealous of everybody and everything that Ancram looked at." "Jealous!" repeated my lord musingly. "But to act so strangely--to expose herself to animadversion--to go the length of opening desks and letters!--She must have had some cause, some great provocation." "Nothing more likely! Ancram is good-looking and young; and Castalia--isn't." "But where did she procure that money without her husband's knowledge?" "Don't know, I'm sure." "And her extravagance, and running him into debt as she has done--it seems to point to some mental aberration, does it not, Belinda?" "Oh, fiddle-faddle, my lord! _Why_ this, and _how_ that! How do we know what truth there is in the whole story?" "Belinda?" "Oh, bless you, I'm too old a bird to be caught by any chaff the _Ancrams_ can offer me." "But, good heavens, Belinda, it is utterly incredible----"