‘It is not mine, it is Maud’s. I shall claim it for her. She shall not be fleeced like this!’ ‘Claim it, then, and bring ruin and disgrace upon your father! It will be a noble part from a son!’ ‘Has not my father brought disgrace upon himself without anyone’s help? Has he not nearly brought upon you, and upon me, the worst disgrace which the world holds? It is no doing of his that I am not at present a nameless outcast—it is merely a chance for which we have to thank fortune, and not him. And he appeals to me to save him from disgrace! I will not listen! I will have justice! It is he who has disgraced himself, not I!’ ‘Lewis, consider!’ began Mrs. Belassis, who, though she cared little for her husband, and heartily despised him, had no wish to see him disgraced and impoverished in order to swell the wealth of Maud and Torwood. ‘I will consider nothing but justice! I will have what is legally mine, in order to give it to her whose right it is. My father deserves no mercy at my hands, and he shall not get it!’ ‘This, then, is my reward for scheming and sinning for your future happiness!’ burst out Belassis, in an agony of rage and fear. ‘More shame for you to have so schemed and sinned,’ answered Lewis; but his indignation had cooled somewhat, and it was easy to see that he took no pleasure in the thought of bringing ruin and disgrace upon his own house. ‘Lewis,’ said Mrs. Belassis coldly and calmly, ‘you have spoken the truth—your father deserves no mercy at your hands. He had, for aught he knew at the time, committed the vilest action a man could perpetrate. He is disgraced, as you say, already, and the story of crime will be all over the place to-morrow. Ruin and disgrace he heartily merits; but what about me?’ ‘You, mother?’ ‘Yes; I am your mother. I shall be involved in whatever ruin and disgrace overtakes your father—I and your sisters both. You must think of that, before you take any irrevocable step.’ Lewis stood silent. ‘I have had a good deal to bear already as the fruit of your father’s misconduct; but we have contrived to weather matters pretty well up till now. If you strike this threatened blow, however, all is lost, and you will be the ruin of your whole family.’ Still Lewis said nothing. ‘Well,’ she asked, after a pause, ‘what have you to say now?’ ‘Nothing.’ ‘Nothing?’ ‘No; I must think.’ ‘Yes, you had better think,’ said Mrs. Belassis, knowing well that reflection was likely to be favourable to her own cause. ‘Good-bye,’ he said suddenly. ‘I shall be at Ladywell for some time to come, I expect.’ And then he turned and quitted the room, without another word. ‘He is safe,’ said Mrs. Belassis; ‘he will not do it now. We are safe, so far as he is concerned.’ Lewis went back to Ladywell, and told his story in confidence to Miss Marjory. People had a way of going to Miss Marjory when they were in doubt or perplexity, because such feelings seemed unknown to her.