"Anne," he said in a voice that trembled in spite of its displeased tones, "allow me to beg your pardon, and I do it with shame that this gratuitous insult should have been offered you in your own house. A day or two will, I hope, put matters on their right footing; the poor children, as you see, have been tutored." "Are you going to keep the port by you all night, Hartledon?" Need you ask from whom came the interruption? Mr. Carr passed it across to her, leaving her to help herself; and Lord Hartledon sat down, biting his delicate lips. When the dowager seemed to have finished, Anne rose. Mr. Carr rose too as soon as they had retired. "I have an engagement, Hartledon, and am obliged to run away. Make my adieu to your wife." "Carr, is it not a crying shame?--enough to incense any man?" "It is. The sooner you get rid of her the better." "That's easier said than done." When Lord Hartledon reached the drawing-room, the dowager was sleeping comfortably. Looking about for his wife, he found her in the small room Maude used to make exclusively her own, which was not lighted up. She was standing at the window, and her tears were quietly falling. He drew her face to his own. "My darling, don't let it grieve you! We shall soon right it all." "Oh, Percival, if the mischief should have gone too far!--if they should never look upon me except as a step-mother! You don't know how sick and troubled this has made me feel! I wanted to go to them in the nursery when I came up, and did not dare! Perhaps the nurse has also been prejudiced against me!" "Come up with me now, love," he whispered. They went silently upstairs, and found the children were then in bed and asleep. They were tired with sight-seeing, the nurse said apologetically, curtseying to her new mistress. The nurse withdrew, and they stood over the nursery fire, talking. Anne could scarcely account for the extreme depression the event seemed to have thrown upon her. Lord Hartledon quickly recovered his spirits, vowing he should like to "serve out" the dowager. "I was thankful for one thing, Val; that you did not betray anger to them, poor little things. It would have made it worse." "I was on the point of betraying something more than anger to Edward; but the thought that I should be punishing him for another's fault checked me. I wonder how we can get rid of her?" "We must strive to please her while she stays." "Please her!" he echoed. "Anne, my dear, that is stretching Christian charity rather too far." Anne smiled. "I am a clergyman's daughter, you know, Val." "If she is wise, she'll abstain from offending you in my presence. I'm not sure but I should lose command of myself, and send her off there and then." "I don't fear that. She was quite civil when we came up from dinner, and--" "As she generally is then. She takes her share of wine." "And asked me if I would excuse her falling into a doze, for she never felt well without it."