"Well," he said coolly, "call for help. I'm not afraid; you are, and you won't call--I know better than that. Look here, you know what you said." She looked sharply round and shuddered. "Yes," she said huskily, "but I was mad and foolish then. It was in an angry fit. I didn't mean it." "Didn't you?" he said, looking at her with a cunning smile. "How easily you people can lie. You did mean it, and you made me a promise, and you're going to keep it." "No, no," she cried wildly. "You are," he said, "and I'm going to be paid. I'm only waiting for my chance." "I tell you no," cried Marjorie. "I did not mean it." "You meant it then, and you mean it now, and I'm going to keep my word when I can. I'm not a fool. Do you think I don't know why it all is? Not so blind as all that, my dear. It's plucky of you, and I like you the better for it, and some day you'll tell me how glad you are that-- pst! someone coming," he whispered, completely altering his manner and tone bowing obsequiously, and whining out an appeal to the dear kind lady to bestow a trifle on a poor young man out of work. That night Marjorie lay awake thinking, half-repentant, half-glad; the latter feeling increasing till there was a glow of triumph in her eyes as she seemed to be gazing down upon Glynne, cast off by her cousin, her enemy and rival no longer, but an unhappy despairing object humbled at her feet. Volume 3, Chapter VI. FACING THE UNKNOWN. The time was drawing nigh, and Sir John and his brother were sitting over their wine, when the former began upon matters connected with the wedding. Rolph had only left them that day, and was to return the next morning to meet them at the church, in company with a brother officer, ready to act as his best man. Then the wedding over, the happy pair were to start for the Continent; and Brackley would be left to the brothers, both of whom looked blank and dispirited as they asked themselves what they were to do when the light of the place had gone. And that was how the conversation first began. Sir John sighing, and saying that he should miss Glynne very much indeed. "Of course, I give lots of attention to my pigs and sheep, and the rest of them," he said dolefully; "but Brackley won't be the same, Jem, old fellow, when she's gone. I shall miss her dreadfully." "Yes," said the major, raising his claret to his lips, and setting the glass down again untouched, "we shall miss her dreadfully." Then, after a long conversation, Sir John had touched upon the subject of his brother's treatment of the bridegroom, and his conduct at the wedding. They sat sipping their claret for some time, Sir John being very silent; and at last the long pause was followed by the major saying,-- "Well, don't let's leave our darling. I suppose I may say `our darling,' Jack?" "My dear brother!" exclaimed Sir John, grasping his hand.