"Well, my dear," she said, leaning on her stick, the queerest rag-bag of a figure--crooked wig, rusty black dress, and an unspeakable bonnet--"you are a saint, of course, and I am a quarrelsome old sinner; I like society, and you, I believe, regard it as a grove of barren fig-trees. I don't care a rap for my neighbor if he doesn't amuse me, and you live in a puddle of good works. But, upon my word, I wouldn't be you when it comes to the sheep and the goats business! Here is a young girl, sweet and good and beautifully brought up--money and manners and everything handsome about her--she is in love with Oliver, and he with her--and just because you happen to find out that she is the daughter of a poor creature who made a tragic mess of her life, and suffered for it infinitely more than you and I are ever likely to suffer for our intolerably respectable peccadilloes--you will break her heart and his--if he's the good-luck to have one!--and there you sit, looking like a suffering angel, and expecting all your old friends, I suppose, to pity and admire you. Well, I won't, Lucy!--I won't! That's flat. There's my hand. Good-bye!" Lady Lucy took it patiently, though from no other person in the world save Elizabeth Niton would she have so taken it. "I thought, Elizabeth, you would have tried to understand me." Elizabeth Niton shook her head. "There's only your Maker could do that, Lucy. And He must be pretty puzzled to account for you sometimes. Good-bye. I thought Alicia looked uncommonly cheerful!" This last remark was delivered as a parting shot as Lady Niton hobbled to the door. She could not, however, resist pausing to see its effect. Lady Lucy turned indignantly. "I don't know what you mean by that remark. Alicia has behaved with great kindness and tact!" "I dare say! We're all darlings when we get our way. What does Ferrier say?" Lady Lucy hesitated. "If my old friends cannot see it as I do--if they blame me--I am very sorry. But it is my responsibility." "A precious good thing, my dear, for everybody else! But as far as I can make out, they _are_ engaged?" "Nothing is settled," said Lady Lucy, hastily; "and I need not say, Elizabeth, that if you have any affection for us--or any consideration for Miss Mallory--you will not breathe a word of this most sad business to anybody." "Well, for Oliver's sake, if he doesn't intend to behave like a man, I do certainly hope it may be kept dark!" cried Lady Niton. "For if he does desert her, under such circumstances, I suppose you know that a great many people will be inclined to cut him? I shall hold my tongue. But, of course, it will come out." With which final shaft she departed, leaving Lady Lucy a little uneasy. She mentioned Elizabeth Niton's "foolish remark" to Mrs. Fotheringham in the course of the evening. Isabel Fotheringham laughed it to scorn.