Happily the beckoning hands of Fortune had not spoiled Susan yet. The prospect of wealth and rank had confused her brains, but it had not dazzled her inmost, sound self or altered her sterling principles or shaken her out of her well-worn ways. The mistress-elect of Ruddington Towers and my social superior of the near future still addressed me with the simple, respectful openness for which I have always liked her so well. After I had sat I don’t know how long, silently trying to work out a solution, she said for the third time: "I knew it didn’t sound right, Miss. I will tear it up and burn it. And perhaps ... when you’re not too busy ... perhaps, Miss Gertrude, you would tell me what I ought to say." "Of course, Susan, of course," I answered. "I’ve promised you already. But it isn’t easy." Susan accepted the situation, and stood patiently awaiting the end of my meditations. "Sit down, Susan," I said at last. She sat down. "I am obliged to ask you a few plain questions." "Yes, Miss." "If it turns out that he is really in earnest, do you wish to marry Lord Ruddington?" "Oh yes, Miss, please!" "You don’t understand. In his letter he asks if you are free--if your affection is still yours to give. Now, is there anybody else that you’re promised to already?" "Oh no, Miss!" "Not Gibson?" Susan looked troubled. When she answered, it was falteringly, and without her usual openness. "No, Miss." And she added uneasily, "I have never promised to be engaged to Gibson." "But does Gibson expect that some day you will?" "He oughtn’t to, Miss," rejoined Susan, making shockingly quick progress in cunning. "I mean, has Gibson talked to you in that way? And have you listened? Come, Susan, don’t be silly. I am forced to ask these things. I’ve never seen Lord Ruddington, but from all I’ve heard of him he isn’t the sort that would want to make himself happy by making another man miserable for life--not even if the other man is only Gibson. Lord Ruddington’s letter is strange. For instance, it’s rather stiff and dry, and like the letter of a much older man. But it rings true; it rings honourable. You must be honourable too. Otherwise the whole business will end in misery for everybody. Come, Susan. I don’t want to preach a sermon, but you know as well as I do that if you and Gibson truly care for one another you will be a happier and better woman in a four-roomed cottage with Gibson than with Lord Ruddington at the Towers. Tell me how things stand." After a struggle Susan blurted out: "Yes, Miss, Gibson _has_ asked me." "When?" "Well, Miss, the last time was last week." "You didn’t accept him. I’ve gathered that already. But did you give him a plain refusal?" "Well, Miss----" "Answer Yes or No, Susan, straight out. Have you let Gibson think that, if he gets on, some day you will marry him?" Susan’s eyes filled with tears. Her cheeks burned red. "Come, Susan, tell me." She broke into weeping.