But this refers to a time in which nothing was known at Holloway as to Lady Frances. Very little had been said of the family between the mother and son. Of the Marquis George Roden had wished to think well, but had hardly succeeded. Of the stepmother he had never even wished to do so. She had from the first been known to him as a woman thoroughly wedded to aristocratic prejudices,--who regarded herself as endowed with certain privileges which made her altogether superior to other human beings. Hampstead himself could not even pretend to respect her. Of her Roden had said very little to his mother, simply speaking of her as the Marchioness, who was in no way related to Hampstead. Of Lady Frances he had simply said that there was a girl there endowed with such a spirit, that of all girls of her class she must surely be the best and noblest. Then his mother had shuddered inwardly, thinking that here too there might be possible danger; but she had shrunk from speaking of the special danger even to her son. "How has the visit gone?" Mrs. Roden asked, when her son had already been some hours in the house. This was after that last visit to Hendon Hall, in which Lady Frances had promised to become his wife. "Pretty well, taking it altogether." "I know that something has disappointed you." "No, indeed, nothing. I have been somewhat abashed." "What have they said to you?" she asked. "Very little but what was kind,--just one word at the last." "Something, I know, has hurt you," said the mother. "Lady Kingsbury has made me aware that she dislikes me thoroughly. It is very odd how one person can do that to another almost without a word spoken." "I told you, George, that there would be danger in going there." "There would be no danger in that if there were nothing more." "What more is there then?" "There would be no danger in that if Lady Kingsbury was simply Hampstead's stepmother." "What more is she?" "She is stepmother also to Lady Frances. Oh, mother!" "George, what has happened?" she asked. "I have asked Lady Frances to be my wife." "Your wife?" "And she has promised." "Oh, George!" "Yes, indeed, mother. Now you can perceive that she indeed may be a danger. When I think of the power of tormenting her stepdaughter which may rest in her hands I can hardly forgive myself for doing as I have done." "And the Marquis?" asked the mother. "I know nothing as yet as to what his feelings may be. I have had no opportunity of speaking to him since the little occurrence took place. A word escaped me, an unthought-of word, which her ladyship overheard, and for which she rebuked me. Then I left the house." "What word?" "Just a common word of greeting, a word that would be common among dear friends, but which, coming from me to her, told all the story. I forgot the prefix which was due from such a one as I am to such as she is. I can understand with what horror I must henceforward be regarded by Lady Kingsbury." "What will the Marquis say?"