"Nothing of the sort," cried Miss Slarge, delighted that the rector had fallen into her trap. "They are the initials of the Egyptian trinity: Isis, Horus, and Seb." "Miss Slarge, how can you treat sacred things so lightly?" "I don't treat sacred things lightly," retorted Miss Slarge. "I.H.S. is a heathen symbol; and I am not an idolater, I hope." "Really, I do not know what to say." "You should study more," said Miss Slarge, satisfied with her triumph, as she walked away, leaving the rector quite angry. "I wonder where she can find all this rubbish," murmured the outraged Mr. Brock. "It is really not respectable the way she talks. Eh, what is that shouting?" he asked a bystander. "The tenants are toasting Mr. Carson." "As Miss Bellairs' future husband, I suppose?" said the rector, cheerily. "Ah, what a pity that Mark and Alfred did not live to see this happy day!" CHAPTER X. A PRE-NUPTIAL CONTRACT. Though the passing of each hour brought her nearer to her hateful marriage, Olive felt relieved now that the celebration of her coming of age was over. She was little disposed for gaiety or for company of any kind. Her thoughts were continually with Laurence. She missed him daily, hourly. His face was constantly before her, and his words echoed everlastingly in her ears. It was not surprising that, on meeting Lord Aldean in the village, she should question him as to Mallow's return. "I sometimes wonder if he is coming back at all," she finished hastily. "Oh, Mallow's coming back right enough," said Aldean. "He is certain to return before your marriage." "Please don't speak of my marriage, Lord Aldean," she cried impetuously. "Have you heard from Mr. Mallow since he left?" "Only once, Miss Bellairs. He is well and busy." "In Athelstane Place?" Jim was not a little taken aback by this last question. He was in total ignorance of what had taken place on the Downs. "What do you know, may I ask, about Athelstane Place?" he said, looking sharply at the girl. "Mr. Mallow told me something about it, and about Mr. Carson." "Oh, that is one of Mallow's crazy notions," said Aldean, vexed. "I suppose he told you that Carson was an impostor? Then, believe me, it is all nonsense, Miss Bellairs. Mallow has built up this theory on a foolish remark I happened to let drop. His idea is that the real Carson was murdered, and this fellow has stepped into his shoes." "You don't believe that?" cried Olive, breathlessly. "Certainly not," replied Jim' vehemently; "and please don't repeat what I say. I have a horror of scandal. Carson is Carson right enough. This is only a mad idea of Mallow's." "But why should Mr. Mallow persist in such a strange idea?" Lord Aldean shrugged his shoulders. "The dead man's clothes were perfumed with sandal-wood, and Carson's, you know, have the same smell--it is on this ground I think that Mallow goes chiefly. He fancies there must be some connection between the two." "And is there?" asked Olive.