"But I do. I like Germains, and Talbots, and Howards, and so does everybody else, only so many people tell lies about it. I like having lords in my drawing-room. They look handsomer and talk better than other men. That's my experience. And you are pretty nearly sure with them that you won't find you have got somebody quite wrong." "I know a lord," said Mary, "who isn't very right. That is, I don't know him, for I never saw him." "You mean your wicked brother-in-law. I should like to know him of all things. He'd be quite an attraction. I suppose he knows how to behave like a gentleman?" "I'm not so sure of that. He was very rough to papa." "Ah;--yes. I think we can understand that, my dear. Your father hasn't made himself exactly pleasant to the Marquis. Not that I say he's wrong. I think it was a pity, because everybody says that the little Lord Popenjoy will die. You were talking of me and my glories, but long before you are my age you will be much more glorious. You will make a charming Marchioness." "I never think about it, Mrs. Jones; and I wish papa didn't. Why shouldn't the little boy live? I could be quite happy enough as I am if people would only be good to me and let me alone." "Have I distressed you?" asked the old woman. "Oh, dear no;--not you." "You mean what happened at my house the other night?" "I didn't mean anything particular, Mrs. Jones. But I do think that people sometimes are very ill-natured." "I think, you know, that was Lord George's doing. He shouldn't have taken you off so suddenly. It wasn't your fault that the stupid man tripped. I suppose he doesn't like Captain De Baron?" "Don't talk about it, Mrs. Jones." "Only that I know the world so well that what I say might, perhaps, be of use. Of course I know that he has gone out of town." "Yes, he has gone." "I was so glad that you didn't go with him. People will talk, you know, and it did look as though he were a sort of Bluebeard. Bluebeards, my dear, must be put down. There may be most well-intentioned Bluebeards, who have no chambers of horrors, no secrets,"--Mary thought of the letter from Mrs. Houghton, of which nobody knew but herself,--"who never cut off anybody's heads, but still interfere dreadfully with the comfort of a household. Lord George is very nearly all that a man ought to be." "He is the best man in the world," said Mary. "I am sure you think so. But he shouldn't be jealous, and above all he shouldn't show that he's jealous. You were bound, I think, to stay behind and show the world that you had nothing to fear. I suppose the Dean counselled it?" "Yes;--he did." "Fathers of married daughters shouldn't often interfere, but there I think he was right. It is much better for Lord George himself that it should be so. There is nothing so damaging to a young woman as to have it supposed she has had to be withdrawn from the influence of a young man." "It would be wicked of anybody to think so," said Mary, sobbing.