"She would have been scarcely less guilty than Lady Jean had she condoned her presence, knowing what she knew," says Lady Etwynde, with rising indignation. "Even if a husband does not love his wife, he at least should treat her with common decency." "I daresay Lauraine brought it all on herself. A man can't always put up with such airs as those to which she treated Sir Francis, and, in contrast with Lady Jean, why Lauraine was--nothing." "No," agrees Lady Etwynde. "A good woman and pure-minded generally looks colourless and tame beside a wicked one. The contrast is too strong I suppose." Mrs. Douglas looks at her sharply. She does not like her tone, nor understand it. "Well, I only hope it will come right," she says. "I shall write to Lauraine and advise her to make it up with her husband. It is so stupid, making a fuss and _exposé_--losing everything, and all for--what?" "I think," says Lady Etwynde quietly, "that you do not understand your daughter, and you do her injustice. A woman must know when to support her own dignity; I suppose you allow that?" "I daresay Lauraine made a great deal of unnecessary fuss; it would be just like her. She is full of romance and high-flown ideas. If she had been quite circumspect herself it would not matter; but after getting herself talked about with Keith--I myself had to warn her--I think Sir Francis was very good to overlook it." "Sir Francis perhaps had his own aims to attain," interpolates Lady Etwynde. "I am inclined to think so, judging by results." "Do you mean--do you really think he wishes for freedom?" gasps Mrs. Douglas. "Is it so bad as that?" "Lady Jean seems to have infatuated him," answers Lady Etwynde. "He was always weak where women were concerned, you know. He has treated Lauraine very badly and he is even now in Paris." "I think I will go down to Falcon's Chase," says Mrs. Douglas presently. "I must see Lauraine and advise her. It is really most critical. I had no idea things were so bad. She has not chosen to take me into her confidence; still, as her mother, it is my duty to see she does not ruin her whole future." "I think," says Lady Etwynde, very quietly, "I would not go if I were you." "Why not?" demands Mrs. Douglas sharply. "She might not like it," answers Lady Etwynde; "and you can do no good--no one can. Lauraine is proud, but she is also high-principled. I do not think you need fear for her. What is right to do she will do, at any cost. Sir Francis has not carried out his threat, and I fancy he won't. He has ordered Lauraine to remain in Northumberland; but I do not think that is any great punishment to her. She always loved the Chase, and all her memories of her child are with it." "It is a pity the child died," says Mrs. Douglas. "You may well say that. He would at least have been some consolation to her now. Not that it would have made any difference to Sir Francis. He never cared for the boy. Still it was a tie."