Like all people with a motive, Lady Lyons was very much afraid of her motive being discovered; and she hesitated now, impelled by her great desire to be able to guide her son, and to find out, before it was too late, something definite about "those Rivers girls." "The girls are I suppose so well off that his marrying or remaining unmarried can hardly affect them," she said, taking up her knitting again, and narrowly watching Mrs. Dorriman's placid face. "Oh dear no!" said that poor little lady, taken by surprise, "my brother has helped them very much--they really owe him a great deal." "Ah! then he is sure to provide for them," said Lady Lyons, "comfortably, especially for Margaret." Mrs. Dorriman looked up at her a little startled. Had she said anything? "We know nothing. He is fond of Margaret. He was fond----" She stopped short, she could not say that this move, originated by Grace and followed up by Margaret, had hurt and offended him. She knew he was offended, but all that passed belonged to the sanctity of home. She felt guilty in some way. Reticent and reserved generally, how came she to have allowed Lady Lyons to touch upon these matters? With a little movement of her head and shoulders, expressive of resolution, she faced Lady Lyons and said calmly: "I would prefer not discussing my brother's intentions, which I do not know. I know really nothing, and conjecture is useless." "We will not discuss his intentions," said Lady Lyons, with a cheerfulness she did not feel; "a man who has shown himself so good and so kind is not likely to throw these poor girls penniless upon the world--I can safely prophesy that Margaret will be his heiress." She smiled at Mrs. Dorriman, who had no answering smile to give back. She was startled and vexed with herself. She had no right to speak about her brother. She was confident that his actions would be governed entirely by the feeling of the moment. He liked Margaret; if Margaret offended him, his liking would not save her from the effects of his displeasure. She was beginning to understand him, to see that everything had to be subservient to his will, that the greatest and strongest trait in his character was his love of power. After this conversation, Lady Lyons lost no time in giving her son warning. "Nothing is settled," she said. "It may be Margaret, but he is a younger man than I thought, and he may marry; my dear boy, you must do nothing rashly." He turned the subject with a laugh, in which to speak the truth there was not much merriment. His passion for Margaret was at any rate sincere, and with his frequent opportunities of meeting it became utterly impossible for him to conceal his feelings from her. Before she could stop him, he was hurriedly telling her his story, looking in her face, which showed vexation and regret, but no passion, no love, no response to his devotion.