Unaware of the gossip going on around her, Maryllia stayed where she was at the window, coldly silent, her eyes fixed on the glowing flower-beds patterned in front of her,--the gorgeous mass of petunias, and flame-colored geraniums,--the rich saffron and brown tints of thick clustered calceolarias,--the purple and crimson of pendulous fuchsias, whose blossoms tumbled one upon the other in a riot of splendid colour,--and all at once her thoughts strayed capriciously to the cool green seclusion of John Walden's garden. She remembered the spray of white lilac he had given her, and fancied she could almost inhale again its delicious perfume. But the lilac flowering-time was over now--and the roses had it all their own way,--she had given a rose in exchange for the lilac, and--Here she started almost nervously as Lord Roxmouth's voice again fell on her ears. "You are not sparing me any of your attention," he said--"Your mind is engrossed with something--or somebody--else! Possibly I have a rival?" He smiled, but there was a quick hard gleam of suspicion in his cold grey eyes. Maryllia gave him a look of supreme disdain. "You are insolent," she said, speaking in very low but emphatic tones--"You always were! You presume too much on Aunt Emily's encouragement of your attentions to me, which you know are unwelcome. You are perfectly aware that I left London to escape a scheme concocted by you and her to so compromise me in the view of society, that no choice should be left to me save marriage with you. Now you have followed me here, and I know why! You have come to try and find out what I do with myself--to spy upon my actions and occupations, and take back your report to Aunt Emily. You are perfectly welcome to enter upon this congenial task! You can visit me at my own house,--you can play detective all over the place, if you are happy in that particular role. Every opportunity shall be given you!" He bowed. "Thank you!" And stroking his moustache, as was his constant habit, he smiled again. "You are really very cruel to me, Maryllia! Why can I never win your confidence--I will not say your affection? May I not know?" "You may!"--she answered coldly--"It is because there is nothing in you to trust and nothing to value. I have told you this so often that I wonder you want to be told it again! And though I give you permission to call on me at my own home,--just to save you the trouble of telling Aunt Emily that her 'eccentric' niece was too 'peculiar' to admit you there,--I reserve to myself the right at any moment to shut the door against you." She moved from him then, and seeing the Ittlethwaites of Ittlethwaite Park, went to speak to them. He stood where she had left him, surveying the garden in front of him with absolute complacency. Mr. Marius Longford joined him. "Well?" said the light of the Savage and Savile tentatively.