Mallow groaned. "Oh, Jim, Jim, I am a fool. I know that she is going to marry this Carson; and yet--and yet I cannot help making myself miserable by calling to see her." "Buck up, old man, she isn't spliced yet!" "James, you are incurably vulgar." "If you pay me any more compliments, Mallow, I shall forget the respect to my former tutor, and chuck you out of this gangway. Come for a walk." So Mallow allowed himself to be persuaded, and in due time, as he knew they inevitably would do, they found themselves in the grounds of the Manor House. Striding up and down the lawn was an elderly lady with a lack-lustre eye and the gait of a grenadier. "How do you do, Miss Slarge," said the visitors, almost simultaneously. And they waited for the priestess of Minerva to wake up and return their salutation. Miss Rubina Slarge was a maiden of forty-five years. She was sufficiently well-looking to have married a score of times. However, early in life she had become convinced that it was her mission to expose the errors of the Romish Church, and she felt that for this purpose she should dispense with a husband. Her knowledge was extensive, but apt to be inaccurate. It was her firm impression that the idol worship of Babylon still existed in the Papal Church, and she was writing a voluminous book to prove this. Nimrod and his wife Semiramis were still worshipped, she declared, and the festivals and ritual of modern Rome were identical with those of ancient Babylon. She thought of little else, and lived in a world of Biblical prophecy and mythological lore. Therefore, although she was supposed ostensibly to look after Olive, that clear-headed young lady looked after her, and the house to boot. Olive called her Aunt Ruby, but she was really only a distant cousin, connected by blood with the late Mrs. Bellairs. Absent-minded and dogmatic, Aunt Ruby was nevertheless amiable and kindly, and Olive was really fond of her. But it was rare for her to leave Rome or Babylon to speak on commonplace subjects. She was difficult to manage, and required no little humouring. On seeing two young men standing bareheaded before her, she stopped and looked bewildered. Then she recognized them both and smiled. Finally she pointed a lean finger at Lord Aldean. "Septem alta jugis toti quæ presidet orbi,'" said Miss Slarge, solemnly. "What does that mean, Lord Aldean?" "Great Scott!" gasped Jim, cramming his hat on his head, "I don't know." "Yet you call yourself a scholar, sir?" "No, I don't, Miss Slarge. I call Mr. Mallow a scholar. What is it, Mallow?" "The lofty city with seven hills which governs the whole world," translated Mallow. "I know that," snapped Miss Slarge; "it is a simple sentence from Virgil. But what city?" "Rome, of course; what other city has seven hills?" "I was certain of it," cried Miss Slarge, triumphantly; "the chief seat of idolatry under the New Testament. Mystery, Babylon the great--that is Rome!"