When they reached the house, and Laurie Meredith asked eagerly to see Mrs. Fielding alone, she guessed instantly at his desire, and determined to hear all that passed between her mother and her sister's lover. CHAPTER VII. Mrs. Fielding had not attended the funeral of her old servant. She had kept her room several days, under the plea of illness, in order to lend color to the assertion that her hair had changed color from neuralgia. But she had managed to moderate the angry impatience that had so wounded and startled her beautiful daughters, and now permitted them to spend a short while with her daily, placing a strong command over herself that she might endure their presence without raving over the storm of anger that filled her heart. So when Flower came to her that day to ask her to give Laurie Meredith an interview she did not refuse, only sent the girl away, saying that she would be down in a few minutes. When the door shut between her and Flower, she stood there startled and wild-eyed. "What does it mean? Is he going to ask me for one of my daughters? My daughters!--ah, I forgot!" she cried, wildly; and a swift determination came to her that neither of the girls should be permitted to marry until she found out something which was now almost driving her mad with doubt. Laurie Meredith could not repress a start of surprise when she appeared before him, she was so ghastly pale, and her large, black eyes seemed to fairly burn in her pale face. The contrast, too, of her white hair with her black eyes, and her black silk dress was startling, since he had seen her but a few days ago, when her abundant tresses had in them but a few scattering threads of gray. He hastened to place a chair for her, and to express his regrets over her illness. She accepted his courtesy with a slight melancholy bow, and as she sunk into the chair, said huskily: "Be brief, if you please, as I am still suffering with my head." So instead of approaching the subject in a roundabout way, as he had intended, he was compelled to blurt it out abruptly, while shrinking under the cold stare of supercilious surprise she fixed on his flushed face. She listened in unmoved silence to his statement that he loved Flower, that his love was returned, and that he wished to marry her in a very short time and take her abroad with him. When he ended she replied with a curt and decided refusal that stung his pride most bitterly. But for the sake of his love he tried to be very patient, and courteous. He told her that he was of good birth, that his father was rich and indulgent. "I can give you letters. I do not even ask you to take my word," he insisted. "If you were a prince and heir to a throne, my answer would be the same," she said, coldly. He looked at her in wonder. "I can not understand you, Mrs. Fielding. Do you think that Flower is too young to marry?"