"I'll have her taught fine," said Fergus, "but you are a good--very good man, Mansfield." "Don't say that again," replied Mansfield. "The heart knoweth its own wickedness and its own sorrows. I can't explain what I feel and if I could, I wouldn't. I'll be ready to accompany you this very evening, Mr. Desmond." "Fergus Desmond, please," said the future heir to The Desmond. Mansfield left the room. Fergus looked round the shabby little study. He took up the Latin and Greek books and a sense of amazement possessed him. If it had not been for his old father he would not have gone on with this thing. He felt he had never seen a man like John Mansfield before. Fergus thought a good deal of rank and old family, but Mansfield was above all that kind of thing. He was higher up. He had, in fact, reached the soul heights, where earthly rank counts for nothing. By-and-bye he came back, the colour in his cheeks and a sparkle in his eyes. "I have news for you, Fergus," he said, "sudden, unexpected. Priscilla has come home." "My goodness," said Fergus, "we all vowed that we would never speak to her again." "Because she married me?" said Mansfield, with a sort of angelic smile. "Yes, we were fools. I should like to see my sister, and I tell you honestly, Mansfield, that I think she has got the best of the bargain." "But there is one thing I must add," continued Mansfield. "I cannot go with you to France to-night. I cannot desert my wife on her unexpected return." There was a loud, harsh voice heard in the hall. "Maggie, Maggie, where are you, Marguerite?" Mansfield hurriedly left the study; his firm, refined face assumed a somewhat slight and delicate flush; he drew himself up to his slender height, a half-suppressed sigh rose to his lips and then he disappeared. Fergus Desmond heard him murmur to himself, "She's a good woman, yes, she's a good woman, and I--I have deceived her," but whether Mrs. Mansfield was good or bad, nothing could exceed her wild rage and anger when she encountered her husband in the little narrow hall and when he told her, which he did firmly and gently, that he had sent little Margot to visit her relations in Ireland. "I didn't act fair by you, Priscilla," he said, "and I'm more than willing to own it, but the child pined to see her own people, and I--I, yes, I let her go." "The little brat," said Mrs. Mansfield, "and pray what money did you give her? She couldn't cross the briny with nothing in her pocket." "She didn't have a penny of yours, Priscilla; but wait, whist, I have something to say...."