"I will do what I can," she said kindly. "That is to say, I won't interfere, but I'll give you good advice whenever you do me the honour to ask for it." "Thank you; I ask for it now. What do you advise me to do?" She pondered a few moments, watching him thoughtfully. "You are quite sure, once for all, that you think it worth while to throw yourself away on an ungrateful little monkey who doesn't appreciate you?" "I'm quite sure I want to marry Rachel. I hope she will appreciate me, but if she doesn't--well, I want to marry her all the same." "And are willing to take the consequences?" "Oh, yes; I'm not afraid of consequences--once the wedding is over." He smiled as he made this almost sacrilegious assertion, which implied a marital control of consequences that was offensive in the ears of the little woman, who liked to see husbands kept in their proper places. "Don't boast," she said sharply, "you might find yourself in a very unpleasant position when the wedding was over. And you will, too, if you don't mind." The dialogue was interrupted at this point. A little brougham rattled past the window on its way from the stable-yard to the front-door, and a servant came in with tea. Mrs. Reade looked at her watch, and her guest's face fell. "Is it five o'clock?" he exclaimed testily; "and you have not given me any advice!" "Will you have a cup of tea?" she inquired, coolly. "No, thank you. _Must_ you go out this afternoon?" "Well, I could hardly countermand the carriage now, because you are here, could I? We'll have a drive somewhere before we go in to town, and I'll give you advice as we go along." She drank her tea standing in the middle of the room, and then leaving him to fret and fume by himself, went away to dress, and in the retirement of her own apartment to concoct a definite scheme of action. In a few minutes she came back alert and bright, in a very charming French bonnet, and with yards of silken train behind her. She was ready for him in every sense of the word. As soon as they were out upon the road, and she had finished buttoning a refractory glove, she said gravely, with an air of having solved all doubts, "Now I will tell you what you must do." "Yes?" "You must accept Rachel's dismissal." "_What!_ I'm sure I shall not do anything of the kind." Mrs. Reade laid herself back in the carriage and folded her hands. "Very well," she said, calmly. "No, but really--I beg your pardon--I don't understand you. Do you mean I must just give her up and have done with it? Because you know it is just that that I can't do." "Not at all. But don't ask my opinion----" "Oh, yes, _do_ tell me what you mean." "Well, I was going to suggest that you see or write to Rachel and tell her you will do what she wishes rather than distress her; but that, while leaving her free, you will consider yourself still as much bound to her as ever, and wait in hope that she will come back to you someday. That kind of thing, you know."