Susannah Chressham tilted her parasol and turned keen eyes on his half-ashamed face. "Would you have cared to marry a stranger, Marius, because she had a hundred thousand pounds to her dowry, and her father had paid your debts?" "I am not the Earl," said he, wincing. "But had you been----" He interrupted. "Had I been, Susannah, maybe I had not so wasted my fortunes that I had need to mend them in this way; take it as you will, my lord is a rake and a prodigal; why, Beau Lyndwood is the most conspicuous name in town." "My lord," she answered warmly, "hath lived as his father before him, and ye have no cause to speak; your romance lies open to you--my lord has paid, and with the price he gets you can save yourself from my lord's sins." Marius answered in a soft troubled voice. "Do not blame me, cousin, 'tis not entirely for me that he does this----" "Very largely for you, that you may have the chance to win this lady who may be all in all to you." "I am grateful," said Marius simply. "For indeed I want little else but that same lady--we shall not trouble Rose." They had turned away from the lake into a little grove of Eastern shrubs, myrtles, laurels and oleanders; Susannah's skirt trailing over the fallen fragrant leaves made a pleasant sound; she softly closed the parasol. "Has she written to you, Marius?" "No," he looked away, "but she said she would not be returning to London till September, and, of course, it does not matter whether she writes or no." "You are so sure of her?" breathed Susannah. "So sure," he smiled. "Not even knowing her name!" He lifted a bough of myrtles from the path. "I called her in my fancy 'Aspasia' from Mr. Fletcher's play, 'twas enough; I only spoke to her twice; the first time we said so little! the second time I gave her my name and she gave me her picture. 'I will write to you,' she said--and so--and so----" "You are very fortunate," answered Miss Chressham in a hushed way, "it must make you more tender with my lord." She passed under the trellis arch that led into the garden, he followed, and they stood among the heavy roses looking at each other. "What do you mean, cousin?" asked Marius. She put her hand among the thorns and leaves and shook a huge crimson bloom free from wet. "This--do not be over-righteous, Marius--when you have found her, and won her, and are as happy as you dreamed, remember my lord's unlovely marriage, and be a little sorry for him." Her voice broke; she turned away, pressing against the rose bushes; Marius lifted her hand and kissed it in silence. "I grow sentimental," she cried. "Come, which of these flowers do you think the new Countess would give the preference to?" She shifted her parasol and her fingers fondled the ribbon on the handle. "We must pick her some of my roses," she added. "I want to like her, Marius--my lady will be cold with fear, but she might have been sour or vain or common; Rose has always spoken of her as gentle and sweet."