The real reason, therefore, why she was unwilling to be absorbed by her lover, was her desire to keep Una out of dangerous interviews; she was uneasy if both she and Major Fowler were out of sight. It was in search of her that she came into the conservatory, and almost immediately finding Miss Verrequers, and seeing Major Fowler come forward to join her, she never imagined that Una was far cleverer than herself at such a game, and had managed a moment's fatal meeting and parting, so immediately after Amethyst had passed through the conservatory, that the two spectators, whose minds were full of the preconceived idea that Amethyst was there, and who were not accustomed to attribute so womanly an appearance to Una, never dreamed of the mistake they were making. Conflicting feelings wound Amethyst up to a kind of defiance, and when she came home, she repeated to her mother almost word for word what "Tony" had said to her. "Ah," said Lady Haredale, "poor fellow! He was angry because I did not speak to him myself! But I think it's right to be _so_ prudent! And besides, if my lord heard about the debts just now, he would be so angry. He doesn't mind getting into debt himself; but he does so dislike my borrowing money, even from an intimate friend." Amethyst could have said "I am glad to hear it." She was more miserable than she knew, as she lay awake in the summer morning, thinking, not of her approaching wedding, but of the miserable complications in which she had been so suddenly involved. Maidenly instinct, all the upright impulses of a good and truthful girl, revolted against the situation. Still, it was "mother," and perhaps things might in this one instance be different from what they seemed. She meant to behave as usual in the morning, but the radiant happiness that had of late been usual with her, could not be assumed at will. She went out into the garden after breakfast to gather roses, and as she walked along the path under the cypress hedge, stopping here and there to pick and to admire, a step in the wood made her start and look up. It was not Lucian, but his mother. She crossed the stile with the slow, but secure movements of a country lady, no longer slim and active, but to whom stiles have never ceased to be familiar, and approached Amethyst, who ran to meet her with a pretty look of welcome. Mrs Leigh was a good woman. Deeply as she resented what she believed to be her son's betrayal, to save the reputation, and, if possible, touch the conscience of this eighteen-year-old girl, to give her every chance of explaining herself, was her firm intention. She had come herself and alone to face a most painful interview, before saying one word to Lucian on the subject. "Oh, Mrs Leigh," said Amethyst, "you have just come in time to have some roses!" "I think you must know why I have come, Amethyst," said Mrs Leigh, who was too sincere a person, and in too nervous a mood, to fence.