“I interfered,” Miss Lance said, slowly, “but not because of any prior claim;”--she paused again for a moment--“that would have been as absurd as in the case Colonel Kingsward knows of. I interfered--because I had other reasons for believing that Aubrey Leigh was not the man to marry a dear, good, nice girl.” “You had--other reasons, Laura! Mind what you are saying--you will have to prove your words,” cried Mrs. Leigh, rising in her wrath, with an astonished and threatening face. “I do not ask his mother to believe me. It is before Colonel Kingsward,” said Miss Lance, “that I stand or fall.” “Colonel Kingsward, make her speak out! You know it was because she claimed my son--she, a woman twice his age; and now she pretends---- Make her speak out! How dare you? You said he had promised to marry you--that he was bound to you. Colonel Kingsward, make her speak out!” “That was what I understood,” he said, looking out of the window, his head turned half towards the other speakers, but not venturing to look at them. “I did not see Miss Lance, but that was what I understood.” Laura sat firm, as if she were made of marble, but almost as pale. Her nerves were so highly strung that if she had for a moment relaxed their tension, she would have fallen to the ground. She sat like a rock, holding herself together with the strong grasp of her clasped hands. “You hear, you hear! You are convicted out of your own mouth. Oh, you are cruel, you are wicked, Laura Lance! If you have anything to say speak out, speak out!” “I will say nothing,” said Miss Lance. “I will leave another, a better witness, to say it for me. Colonel Kingsward, ask your daughter if it was because of my prior claim, as his mother calls it, that she broke off her engagement with Aubrey Leigh.” Colonel Kingsward turned, surprised, to his daughter, who, roused by the sound of her own name, looked up quickly--first at the seemingly composed and serious woman opposite to her, then at her father. He spoke to her angrily, abruptly. “Do you hear? Answer the question that is put to you. Was it because of this lady, or any claim of hers, that you--how shall I say it?--a girl like you had no right to decide one way or the other--that you broke off--that your mind was changed towards Mr. Aubrey Leigh?” It appeared to Bee suddenly as if she had become the culprit, and all eyes were fixed on her. She trembled, looking at them all. What had she done? She was surely unhappy enough, wretched enough, a clandestine visitor, keeping Aubrey out of his own house, and what had she to do with Aubrey? Nothing, nothing! Nor he with her--that her heart should now be snatched out of her bosom publicly in respect to him. “That is long past,” she said, faltering, “it is an old story. Mr. Aubrey Leigh is--a stranger to me; it is of no consequence--now!” “Bee,” her father thundered at her, “answer the question! Was it because of--this lady that you changed your mind?”