“You are!” she returned, defiantly, looking him full in the face with her cold, cruel, little eyes. “And may I ask what is to become of the young lady?” he inquired, with a forced calmness that was ominous enough. “Nay,” shrugging her shoulders, “that is a matter between her and you.” Then she added, with an evil smile, “She need not refer to us for a character.” “Perhaps your mother will be more lenient,” he said, making a great effort to restrain his temper. “Remember that Miss West has no home and no friends. Can I see Mrs. Harper?” “I am speaking for my mother,” she answered sharply. “She refuses to see the girl, or allow her inside our door. There is no use in your persisting--it is waste of time. We are not rich, but, at any rate,” choking with excitement, “we have always been respectable!” “I am delighted to hear it,” he replied, making a low, ironical bow; “and as there is nothing further to be said, I will wish you good morning.” “Good morning!” replied Miss Selina, ringing the bell, and curtseying simultaneously. “You will be pleased to remove Miss West’s boxes at once, and inform her that letters from her will be returned unopened”--thereby securing the last shot, and the last word. And Mr. Wynne walked out of the house in a bewildered and confused state of mind, outwardly cool, but in reality at boiling point. He had not proceeded far when he met Madeline coming towards him, with a terrified and expectant face. Now was the moment for action. His senses were stung to alertness, his mind cleared of misgivings; he made a desperate resolve. She was thrust out homeless and alone in the wide, wide world! She should share his home, such as it was; it was better than none. She should, an she would, be his wife--and rich in love if in nothing else. Prudence had hitherto sealed his lips--for her sake chiefly. Now that she had no resources, no place open to receive her, he could and would speak. The first thing he did was to hail a cab, and despatch the man straight back to Harperton for Miss West’s luggage, desiring him to bring it to the station. “Why, what does it mean? Are they so very angry?” she asked with blanched cheeks. “Oh, you don’t mean that they are sending me away?” For she noticed that Mr. Wynne looked unusually pale and grave. “Come down here with me,” leading her into some public gardens that they were passing, “and I will tell you all about it.”