When once Mrs. Clare said a thing, she held to it. Margaret knew that; and she knew that from henceforth there was no probability, one might almost write possibility, of inducing her mother to consent to her marriage with Frank Raynor. Margaret was mistress of her own actions in one sense of the word: when Colonel St. Clare died he left no restrictions on his daughters. All his money; it was not much; was bequeathed to his wife, and was at her own absolute disposal; but not a word was said in his will touching the free actions of his children. Mrs. St. Clare knew this; Daisy knew it; and that, in the argument, gave the one an advantage over the other. But Mrs. St. Clare, in the dispute, committed a fatal error. When people are angry, they often say injudicious things. Had she said to Margaret, I forbid you to marry Mr. Raynor, Margaret would never have thought of disobeying the injunction: but when Mrs. St. Clare said, "If you choose to marry him, do so, but I shall wash my hands of you," it put the idea into Margaret's head. Mrs. St. Clare had used the words because they came uppermost in her anger, never supposing that any advantage could be taken of them. To her daughter they wore a different aspect. Right or wrong--though of course it was wrong, not right--she looked upon it as a half-tacit permission: and from that moment the idea of marrying Frank with no one's approval but her own, took possession of her. To lose him seemed terrible in Margaret's eyes; she would almost as soon have lost life itself: and instinct whispered a warning that in a short time Mrs. St. Clare would contrive to separate them, and they might never meet again. It was of this terrible prospect of separation, or rather of avoiding the prospect, that Mr. Raynor and Margaret were conversing in the twilight of the summer's evening. For once they had met and could linger together without restraint. Mrs. St. Clare and Lydia had gone to a dinner-party ten miles away: Margaret had not been invited; the card said Mrs. and Miss St. Clare; and so they could not take her. Mrs. St. Clare, divining perhaps that her absence might be thus made use of, had proposed to Lydia that Margaret should be the one to go; but Lydia, selfish as usual, preferred to go herself. Mr. Raynor was no longer a visitor at The Mount. Mrs. St. Clare, after the rupture with Margaret, wrote a request to Dr. Raynor that for the future he would attend himself; but she gave no reason. So that the lovers had not had many meetings lately. All the more enjoyable was the one this evening. Frank had gone over on speculation. Happening to hear Dr. Raynor say that Miss St. Clare was going out to dinner with her mother, he walked over on the chance of seeing Margaret. And there they were, absorbed in each other amidst the sighing trees and the scented flowers.