But it is inexcuseable to let the mind be occupied recurrently by a man who has not moved the feelings, wicked though it be to have the feelings moved by him. Aminta rebuked her silly wits, and proceeded to speculate from an altitude, seeing the man's projects in a singularly definite minuteness, as if the crisis he invoked, the perils he braved, the mute participation he implored of her for the short space until their fate should be decided, were a story sharply cut on metal. Several times she surprised herself in an interesting pursuit of the story; abominably cold, abominably interested. She fell upon a review of small duties of the day, to get relief; and among them a device for spiriting away her aunt from the table where Mrs. Lawrence wished to meet Lord Ormont. It sprang up to her call like an imp of the burning pit. She saw it ingenious and of natural aspect. I must be a born intriguer! she said in her breast. That was hateful; but it seemed worse when she thought of a woman commanding the faculty and consenting to be duped and foiled. That might be termed despicable; but what if she had not any longer the wish to gain her way with her lord? Those letters are acting like a kind of poison in me! her heart cried: and it was only her head that dwelt on the antidote. CHAPTER XII. MORE OF CUPER'S BOYS Entering the dining-room at the appointed minute in a punctual household, Mrs. Lawrence informed the company that she had seen a Horse Guards orderly at the trot up the street. Weyburn said he was directing a boy to ring the bell of the house for him. Lord Ormont went to the window. 'Amends and honours?' Mrs. Lawrence hummed and added an operatic flourish of an arm. Something like it might really be imagined. A large square missive was handed to the footman. Thereupon the orderly trotted off. My lord took seat at table, telling the footman to lay 'that parcel' beside the clock on the mantelpiece. Aminta and Mrs. Lawrence gave out a little cry of bird or mouse, pitiable to hear: they could not wait, they must know, they pished at sight of plates. His look deferred to their good pleasure, like the dead hand of a clock under key; and Weyburn placed the missive before him, seeing by the superscription that it was not official. It was addressed, in the Roman hand of a boy's copybook writing, to General the Earl of Ormont, I.C.B., etc., Horse Guards, London.' The earl's eyebrows creased up over the address; they came down low on the contents. He resumed his daily countenance. 'Nothing of importance,' he said to the ladies. Mrs. Lawrence knocked the table with her knuckles. Aminta put out a hand, in sign of her wish. 'Pray let me see it.' 'After lunch will do.' 'No, no, no! We are women--we are women,' cried Mrs. Lawrence. 'How can it concern women?' 'As well ask how a battle-field concerns them!' 'Yes, the shots hit us behind you,' said Aminta; and she, too, struck the table.