“Oh, but I know I was,” cried Alice with assured confidence; “he told me so, over and over again,” she added with a lovely blush. “Stuff!” replied Miss Fane, viciously spearing her ball of worsted with a knitting-needle. “And you believed him, you little goose! Do you think,” she proceeded in a cool ironical tone, “that an extremely handsome young man like him has lived seven years in the army without as many love affairs to match? I tell you--and I am an experienced old woman--I tell you no, ten thousand times no. I can’t say that I ever heard of any special affair. I did hear a whisper that when he joined he was one of the wildest of wild boys; but I believe, thanks to his father, he soon steadied down. But take my word for it, young men in the cavalry are a wild, bad lot.” “Do you mean--that--Reginald----?” cried Alice, struggling to rise. “No, no, no,” replied Miss Fane, keeping her down by laying her hand heavily on her shoulder. “Be patient, and hear what I have to say. I only mean taking them generally--no one in particular. Reginald,” she resumed, “has spent a great deal of time abroad. Who knows,” she proceeded mysteriously, and dropping her voice to a whisper, “but he may in some mad moment have married a half-caste girl; and then, tired of her, and ashamed of his folly, have bribed her to silence and left her in India; and she, finding his second marriage too much for her fortitude, has sent you this certificate! What do you think of that idea?” “Think of it!” cried Alice, jumping to her feet, and almost inarticulate with passion. “I think it a very wicked, horrible idea to entertain of your own nephew, and you ought to be ashamed of it!” “So I will if this certificate proves a false one; but if not, have you thought, my poor girl, since I must speak plainly, of the position in which it places _you_?” “What do you mean?” “I mean that if Reginald was married more than two years ago, as shown by the certificate, _you_ are not his wife; you are nothing but Miss Saville once more, with your name and fame for ever blighted.” “How dare you say so?” cried Alice, crimson to the roots of her hair. “How cruel, how unkind of you to talk to me like this! I will never, never speak to you again as long as I live. You have a bad uncharitable heart,” she added, moving rapidly towards the door. “What you say never, _never_ could be true.”