"The very last man whom I should have expected to come forward," said her mother. "Indeed, I call it the greatest piece of presumption I ever heard of. Considering that we are not on visiting terms, even." "Oh, mamma, do tell me who you mean!" Lady Adair arched her pencilled eyebrows over this movement of impatience. "Really, Margaret, darling! But I suppose I must be lenient: a girl naturally desires to hear about her suitors; but you must not interrupt me another time, love. It is that most impossible man, Mr. Brand of the Red House." Margaret's face flushed from brow to chin. "Why impossible, mamma?" "Dear child! You are so unworldly! But there is a point at which unworldliness becomes folly. We must stop short of that. Poor Mr. Brand is, for one thing, quite out of society." "Not in Paris or London, mamma. Only in this place, where people are narrow and bigoted and censorious." "And where, unfortunately, he has to live," said Lady Caroline, with gentle firmness. "It matters to _us_ very little what they say of him in Paris or London: it matters a great deal what the County says." "But if the County could be induced to take him up!" said Margaret, rather breathlessly. "He was at Lady Ashley's the other day, and he seemed to know a great many people. And if you--we--received him, it would make all the difference in the world." "Oh, no doubt we could float him if we chose," said Lady Caroline, indifferently; "but would it really be worth the trouble? Even if he went everywhere, dear, he would not be a man that I should care to cultivate; he has not a nice reputation at all." "Nobody knows of anything wrong that he has done," Margaret averred, with burning cheeks. "Well, I have heard of one or two things that are not to his credit. I am told that he drinks and plays a good deal, that his language to his groom is something awful, and that he makes his poor little boy drunk every night." In this version had Wyvis Brand's faults and weaknesses gone forth to the world near Beaminster! "Then he has very disagreeable people to visit him, and his mother is not in the least a lady--a publican's daughter, and not, I am afraid, quite respectable in her youth." Lady Caroline's voice sank to a whisper. "Some very unpleasant things have been said about Mrs. Brand. Nobody calls on her. I am very sorry for her, poor thing, but what could one do? I would not set foot in the house while she was in it--I really would not. Mr. Brand ought to send her away." "But what has she done, mamma?" "There is no necessity for you to hear, Margaret. I like your mind to be kept innocent of evil, dear. Surely it is enough if I tell you that there is something wrong." The girl was silent for a minute or two: she was beginning to feel abashed and ashamed. It was in a very low voice that she said at last-- "Mr. Brand would probably find another home for her if he married."