She held out a small packet as she finished, and had the satisfaction of seeing Margery’s lips twitch as with sudden pain, and her whole frame shake with passion beneath the insult. “It was his intention to write to you as far back as last Thursday,” went on Vane; “but he had the misfortune to break his right arm, and writing was impossible; therefore, as he thought you would require some explanation from him, he asked me to come.” “I thank you,” fell from Margery’s lips, in cold, strained tones. “Then I may leave this?” Vane said, interrogatively, rising and placing the packet on the table. “And you will promise to apply at the castle with respect to anything concerning your future? I believe, but I am not sure, that Mrs. Crosbie has already written to some lady about a situation for you as maid.” Margery made no answer, and Miss Charteris waited a few moments, and then moved to the door, feeling strangely uncomfortable, and by no means victorious. She looked back as she stood at the door. “You have no reply?” she asked. “Mr. Crosbie’s explanation requires none,” Margery answered, still in the same cold, even tones. “Then I will wish you good-afternoon.” “Stay!” cried Margery; and Vane turned toward her. “You have forgotten your packet,” Margery added, pointing to the table. Vane took it up without a word. Then a thought seemed to strike her, and she turned the money round and round in her hand hurriedly. “Perhaps you will write to Stuart or to his mother?” Margery’s eyes met Vane’s in an unflinching gaze. “Write!” she repeated, with unutterable scorn and pride in the word. “There is, indeed, little in common between us. Such a question deserves no answer.” Vane’s brows contracted. She turned and walked quickly to the carriage, and, entering it, drove swiftly away. Her musings were not altogether pleasant during the first mile or so of her return journey. She had succeeded, and succeeded so well that she need never fear Margery Daw again; yet her spirit was vexed even at her victory, for, though she had forever separated Stuart and this girl, she had not lowered her rival to the dust, as she had intended. This thought rankled for some time; then her mind wandered to the more important matter of dealing with Stuart. She had no settled plan; but, as he was still so unwell, there would be a day or two yet in which to arrange matters. For the present she must satisfy him with loving messages, and explain that Margery was too distressed by her grief to accompany her back to the castle. She must see her aunt immediately, and get her to use her influence in some way to have the girl sent from the village. It would never do to risk a meeting between Stuart and Margery, for, though she judged the girl to be too honest to say much, if indeed her pride would allow her to notice him at all, there would be sufficient to fire Stuart’s anger and determination to learn the truth; and then----