"I am not a stranger. I can't be a stranger to Gerald Vincent's wife." Mrs. Lakeman tried to be passionate, but it didn't come off very well. "I wouldn't say it to any one else in the world, but I've never ceased to care for him, and I don't believe--I don't believe," she repeated, in a low tone, "that he has ever quite forgotten me." "I don't suppose he has forgotten you," Mrs. Vincent answered, calmly; "but I am certain that he has been faithful to his wife and child here." "Of course he has." "And he's loved them all the years he's known them. You let him go when it would have been inconvenient to marry him; but he didn't marry any one else till he had quite got over it. He's not the sort of man to do anything dishonorable." "Of course he isn't." Mrs. Lakeman began to feel uncomfortable. "And it's better that what is past and dead should be buried, and left unspoken of. I know"--she looked Mrs. Lakeman straight in the eyes--"he feels that everything was for the best; and he's been content and happy here. He said it not three months ago, and I think it would have been better not to have raked up bygones." "You are quite right," Mrs. Lakeman said, heartily, for she was a quick-sighted woman and rather enjoyed being beaten: it made good comedy. "You are a most sensible woman. And now, tell me, won't it seem odd to you to be Lady Eastleigh?" "I've not thought about it," Mrs. Vincent answered. "A living man has the name at present, and I hope he'll keep it." "I dare say you would rather he did," Mrs. Lakeman said, patronage coming into her voice again. "It would be rather a difficult change," she added, humorously. "Fancy Gerald, Lord Eastleigh, living at Woodside Farm, with Miss Barton for his step-daughter--the Gerald whom I remember with every woman at his feet."