“It is very bitter to me, Vane, to have to stoop to deceit; but it is a deep wound to my pride, that Stuart, my son, should so far forget his dignity as to think of such a girl for his wife. You are prompted by the best and noblest feelings, Vane; but I cannot bring myself to submit to this degradation even for a minute. Stuart must know the truth--must know how I judge him in this.” Vane rose hurriedly from her seat. “I know you are right, Aunt Constance,” she responded, quietly, though she was inwardly disturbed by Mrs. Crosbie’s words; “but consider. Stuart is impulsive, as strong-willed as yourself; if you cross him in this, who knows but that he may do something rash--perhaps marry the girl without delay, and be separated from you forever? Is it not wiser to act cautiously, to be careful and politic? I do not advocate too much warmth on your part; meet Stuart coldly, but at the same time throw no obstacle in the way. Believe me, dear Auntie, you will be relieved of all anxiety if you do this.” “But what do you propose?” asked Mrs. Crosbie, resuming her seat, and Vane saw that her advice had taken root. “We must let the separation come from her,” she answered, quickly. “It will not do to send the girl away--that would be but a stimulus to Stuart’s determination. No; he must be disillusioned; and that will not be a difficult matter, I should imagine.” Mrs. Crosbie was silent for a few moments; she was irritated and displeased more than Stuart imagined she would be at the news of his attachment. To her it seemed incredible that a Crosbie should stoop to humiliate himself in this way. Vane’s words fell with good effect upon her ears. Had her niece not been at hand to smooth matters with gentle tact, she would not have been able to restrain her anger. Something of the wisdom of the girl’s advice came home to her as she mused. She saw that Vane was urged by jealousy and pride to break off this terrible connection, but she was quite wrong in her conclusions as to the source of that jealousy. She judged it to be solely the outcome of love for her son, and the thought came as soothing balm at such a moment. Once let them dispatch that girl, and the marriage she had planned would take place. Vane watched her aunt intently. “You will consent?” she said, softly, breaking the silence. “Yes,” Mrs. Crosbie answered, abruptly. Vane made no immediate reply, but her heart thrilled with satisfaction. Now she must conjure up all her power to defeat Margery Daw. Plan after plan followed each other through her mind, but she could arrive at none better than trampling on this village rival’s dignity and wounding her pride with darts, the sting of which would linger longest. Before she began the fray, however, she must see Stuart, breathe in his ear that she had succeeded with his mother, and thus allay any suspicion he might entertain in the future that it was through her instrumentality that his love-dream had been broken.