"I can't think," continued Lady Blore, "how you can lower yourself to eavesdrop in the way you do; and if you must do these underhand actions, why you don't conceal them better. When you read a private letter of mine the other day, because I inadvertently left it for a moment on my writing-table----" "You always say you lock up your private letters, you do, indeed, Mary. _Be_ fair. I could not _tell_ it was private." "You would have been wiser not to have alluded next day to its contents. If you had not done so I might not have known you had read it." Aunt Aggie burst into tears. "The truth is I am not secretive like you, Mary," she said between her sobs. "It is as natural to me to be open and trustful with those I love as it is for you to be the reverse. Whatever I do you think wrong. But perhaps some day--and that before long--you will be forced to admit----" At this moment the drawing-room door opened and Colonel Bellairs came in. He often came to tea at "The Towers," though the meeting seldom passed off without a sharp brush with Lady Blore. "Draw up that chair, Algernon," said that lady, with grim but instant cordiality. "The tea will be ready in a moment." Colonel Bellairs looked more floridly handsome than usual. He was evidently in a state of supreme self-satisfaction. "Fine day," he said, "for the time of year." At this moment a small parchment face, and bent figure leaning on a stick, might have been seen peering in through the closed windows. Sir John looked dispassionately at the family group, and shook his head. Then he hobbled back to his chair under the cedar. Tea was evidently a meal to be dispensed with this afternoon. "I have news for you," said Colonel Bellairs, expanding his chest. Lady Blore held the tea-pot suspended. "Everard Constable--Lossiemouth, I should say--is at this moment sitting in the drawing-room at Priesthope, alone with Magdalen." Colonel Bellairs was not disappointed in the effect of his words on his audience. Aunt Aggie trembled and looked proudly guilty. Lady Blore put down the tea-pot suddenly, and said, "Thank God!" Aunt Aggie, her mouth open to speak, began to choke. She looked piteously from her brother to her sister, struggling in vain to articulate. It was too cruel that she should be bereft of speech at this supreme moment. Lady Blore turned putty pale and magenta colour alternately. A great relief softened her hard face. There were actually tears in her eyes. Then she said majestically, but with a tremor in her metallic voice: "I am not surprised." "It is my doing," shrieked Aunt Aggie, in the strangled squeak in which we always explain that it is "only a crumb" gone wrong. And she relapsed into a fresh spasm. Lady Blore sternly bade her be silent. Colonel Bellairs was slightly annoyed.