They had brought her books, flowers, her favourite Fuller’s sweets, many scraps of news, and, under the influence of their infectious spirits, she cheered up temporarily. Mrs. Leach, however, despite the coldness of Lady Rachel and surliness of Lord Tony, remained of the company, acting as a sort of female warder; and there was no really free intercourse. In spite of broad hints, she stuck most pertinaciously to her seat and her silk sock, throwing in observations every now and then. Certainly she _was_ thick-skinned. At last Lady Rachel said boldly-- “Now, Madeline, take me to your room, my dear.” Madeline rose with an effort. “Oh, my dearest, you must not go into the draught on any account! I’ll take Lady Rachel to mine.” “No, thank you, Mrs. Leach; I rather wish to have Miss West to myself for a little, and I dare say she can wrap up if the draughts are so much keener _now_ than at any other time of the day,” and Lady Rachel carried her point. “I wanted to speak to you alone, Maddie,” she said as she closed the door, “and that odious, thick-skinned, alligator of a woman never gave me a chance! She knows that I loathe her, and might put you on your guard.” “I am on my guard. I know her, I think, even better than you do.” “And you don’t like her?” “No, I don’t _trust_ her.” “I should hope not. She is a regular sort of society adventuress; a notorious evil-speaker, liar, and slanderer; always poking into secrets, and levying genteel blackmail. I had _such_ an account of her from Mrs. Berthon lately. I never liked her--never; but I was not up to all her history. Her father was a coal merchant, and a man of very low origin--she is a nobody. Major Leach was caught; he thought she had a quantity of money. That is always her bait--display, dress, diamonds. His family no longer speak to her, though she quotes them on all occasions, and gives them as reference to hotels and banks, and lets them in. She owes my dressmaker six hundred pounds, and she has put her off with the excuse that she is going to marry an immensely rich man!” “Really! who can it be?” indifferently. “Can’t you _guess_, you dear blind bat?” “Not my father?” “Well, I hope _not_. You must rouse yourself and interfere; elderly men are so easily made fools of. Is it true that she is going with you to Sydney, or is it just a piece of gossip?” “Yes, it is quite true.” “Then you must stop it; you really _must_, unless you wish to have her as a stepmother. She will be engaged before you are at Gib. I think I can see her in smart board-ship frocks, very pleasant, very helpless; your father, an idle man, waiting on her assiduously, and carrying her wraps and books; you below, _hors de combat_. Oh, she will not lose her opportunity, and she sticks at _nothing_.” “I’m afraid I can’t stop her!” “I tell you you must. I wish I was going with you instead.” “Oh, how I wish you were!”