"You are giving yourself to the forces of reaction," he said, between his teeth, "the forces that are everywhere fighting liberty--whether in the individual--or the State. Only, unfortunately "--he turned with a smile, the sudden gaiety of which fairly startled his sister--"as far as matrimony is concerned, I seem to be doing precisely the same thing myself." "Corry! what on earth do you mean?" "Ah! wouldn't you like to know? Perhaps you will some day," said Coryston, with a provoking look. "Where's my hat?" He looked round him for the battered article that served him for head-gear. "Well, good-by, Marcia. If you can pull this thing off with your young man, I'm your servant and his. I'd even grovel to Lord William. The letter I wrote him was a pretty stiff document, I admit. If not--" "Well, if not?" "War!" was the short reply, as her brother made for the door. Then suddenly he came back to say: "Keep an eye on mother. As far as Arthur's concerned--she's dangerous. She hasn't the smallest intention of letting him marry that girl. And here too it'll be a case of meddling with forces you don't understand. Keep me informed." "Yes--if you promise to help him--and her--to break it off," said Marcia, firmly. Coryston slowly shook his head; and went. Meanwhile Lady Coryston, having shaken off all companions, had betaken herself for greater privacy to a solitary walk. She desired to see neither children nor friends nor servants till she had made up her mind what she was going to do. As generally happened with her in the bad moments of life, the revelation of what threatened her had steeled and nerved her to a surprising degree. Her stately indoor dress had been exchanged for a short tweed gown, and, as she walked briskly along, her white hair framed in the drawn hood of black silk which she wore habitually on country walks, she had still a wonderful air of youth, and indeed she had never felt herself more vigorous, more alert. Occasionally a strange sense of subterranean peril made itself felt in the upper regions of the mind, caused by something she never stopped to analyze. It was not without kinship with the feeling of the gambler who has been lucky too long, and knows that the next stroke may--probably will--end it, and bring down the poised ruin. But it made no difference whatever to the gradual forging of her plan and the clearness of her resolve.