‘It will be a fine thing for your Girton prospects, capital for your Greek and Latin, to read with Mr. Arbuthnot. But I gathered--you must take this as I mean it, Marjorie Bartrand; you have no mother to tell you things--I gathered from different small hints that Mrs. Arbuthnot is not exactly in society. That she is good and sweet and honest,’ said Cassandra, ‘you have only to look in her face to know; still if I were in Marjorie Bartrand’s place, I should wait to see what the island ladies did in the matter of calling.’ Marjorie paled round the lips--sign infallible, throughout the Bartrand race, of rising tempest. Cassandra, knowing the family storm-signals, prepared to take a hasty departure. ‘I forget time always under the Tintajeux cedars. And there is plenty for me to do at home. To-morrow Annette and I are off to Sark for five days’ shore-work. Our talk about your new tutor has been an interesting one.’ ‘Especially the clause that prohibits my calling on the new tutor’s wife!’ ‘There is no prohibition at all. The Seigneur might safely leave his card on Mr. Arbuthnot. It would be a very pretty piece of condescension, and of course a gentleman calling upon a gentleman can lead to nothing,’ added Cassandra, rather ignobly temporising. ‘Exactly. Thank you very much, Miss Tighe, for your advice. As you say, I have no mother to enlighten me as to the dark mysteries of calling or not calling. And as I consider the island ladies too frisky for pioneers----’ ‘Marjorie! Our archdeaconess, our irreproachable Guernsey matrons, _frisky_?’ ‘I shall just have to act for myself. As Mrs. Arbuthnot, you tell me, has all good qualities written on her face, and knowing the fine things we do know of her husband’s life, it must be a credit to any woman--above all to an archdeaconess--to make their acquaintance.’ ‘Still, if she is unused----’ ‘Oh, I shall not put myself forward. If their merit is unrecognised, if narrow-minded, irreproachable people hold back from calling on them, I can understand that there may be shyness on my tutor’s part in mentioning his wife. I shall simply bide his time. I shall be silent until he chooses, himself, to speak to me of Mrs. Arbuthnot.’ ‘That will be wise. Treat him, honest gentleman, as though one had not heard of his marriage. Meantime we can find out if our leading ladies, Madame Corbie especially, intend to notice her----’ ‘But in my own self, I honour Mr. Geoffrey Arbuthnot,’ interrupted Marjorie, her face colouring like a rose at sunset. ‘I admire, honour, _love_ him! I wish the world were full of such men. I hold out both hands in fellowship to him at this moment.’ Cassandra, for once, showed prescience worthy of her name. Cassandra argued no more. CHAPTER IV A TRINITY BALL Geoffrey Arbuthnot was a man of whom none could say that Fortune had been to him a too fond mistress.