"Still in London. Uncle died this morning, leaving me his heir. As preliminaries take some time to arrange, am returning to you to-morrow. "JACK." "There!" she said, showing it to her antagonist. "I suppose it's wicked to rejoice in any one's death; but it's a great relief, for it gives me back my husband--and he shall defend me from you!" "I don't think your husband will be down on me." "He'll proclaim the truth about our marriage. It should never have been concealed, least of all by dishonourable means." "You forget yourself, Lady Isabelle." "I remember what is due my position, and so will Mr. Lambert, when he hears how grossly you've deceived him." "You mustn't tell him." "It will not be necessary. I've only to ask him to look at the marriage register. That will bear witness to the truth, I know; for I signed in the proper place for the bride." Miss Fitzgerald drew a quick, sharp breath. She had trusted to be spared this last confession. "The register has been changed," she said. "Who has done this?" "Mr. Lambert, supposing there had been a mistake." "Then Mr. Lambert will change it back again, to-morrow morning!" "You mustn't speak to him of this." "I'll speak to him to-night." "No." "You've no right to interfere. You've no right to do anything, but apologise to me for the great wrong you've done me!" "I forbid you to apprise Mr. Lambert of the true state of affairs till your husband returns to-morrow!" "I've told you I shall see him to-night." "I forbid you, in your husband's interests." "You are insolent." "I'm in a position to be anything I choose." "Why?" "Because I have your husband in my power." "I do not believe it!" "If I choose to make public," she said, laughing insolently, "the manner in which your husband is spending his time in London, I could have him cashiered from the navy." Lady Isabelle drew herself up, and gave her adversary a look of unutterable scorn and contempt, saying:-- "You will probably circulate any falsehood about my husband that you please; it will simply prove to others, as it proves to me, that you still _do_ love him, and that when he knew your true character he left you," and turning from her astonished and indignant rival, she quietly crossed the length of the drawing-room, to where the Dowager and the parson were seated. "Mother," she said, "would you think me very rude if I asked for Mr. Lambert's company for a few moments? I want to have a serious talk with him." "Not at all, my dear. Just take my place. I promised to show Mrs. Roberts a new embroidery stitch," replied the Dowager, acquiescing joyfully in the proposal.