real, unmistakable passion. What a future
might it not have been for her? She had
respected her first husband for his kindness,
his confidence, his equable temper. She
would have respected this man too,
respected him for his talent, his bravery, the
skill and courage with which he had fought
the great battle of life, but she would have
loved him too—loved him with that wild
passion, with that deep devotion. For the
lirst time in her life she had learned what
it was to love, and learned it too late. On
those few occasions when she had dared to
reveal to herself what was hidden in the
inmost recesses of her soul, she had
come to the conclusion that though the
happiness for which she pined would never
be realised, and she never concealed from
herself the improbability of that, yet she
should always hold the first position in his
thoughts. The bitter disappointment which
he had suffered at Miss Ashurst's hands
had, she thought, effectually extinguished
all idea of marriage in his mind. And now
he came to her, to her of all women in the
world, to tell her of his loneliness, his want
of some one to sympathise with and be his
companion, and to ask her advice as
regarded his selection of Maud Creswell!
It was too hard upon her, too much for her
to bear this. A score of schemes flashed
through her brain. Suppose she were to
temporise with this question? A word
from her would make Joyce defer taking
any steps in the matter for the present, and
in the interval she could easily let him see
how she—- Ah, the shame, the wretched
humiliation! Was she bewitched, or was she
in sober seriousness, she, Caroline Mansergh,
whose pride as Caroline West was a byword,
was she going to throw herself at the head of
a man who had not only never shown any
intention of proposing to her, but had
actually come to consult her about his
marriage with another woman! It was
impossible. Noblesse oblige. Lady Caroline
West's pride, dormant and overlaid with
other passions, yet lived in Lady Caroline
Mansergh, and asserted itself in time. She
rose from the bed, bathed her face, adjusted
her hair, poured some sal-volatile in a glass
with a shaking hand, and swallowed it
through her set teeth, then went down to
luncheon, as we have seen. She expressly
avoided any chance of future conversation
with Walter, and the note was written
while he was out with Lord Hetherington.

Of course, Walter Joyce was utterly
ignorant of Lady Caroline's feelings. As
she hid them from herself as much as
possible, it was unlikely that she would suffer
him to catch the smallest inkling of them;
and it is very questionable whether, had
his powers of divination been infinitely
stronger than they were, he would have
understood them. The one spark of
romance with which nature had endowed
him had been completely stamped out by
Marian Ashurst, and the rest of his
organisation was commonplace naturally, and
made more commonplace by practical
experience of the world. He wondered Lady
Caroline had not arranged to have a further
talk with him. She had left him, or rather
they had been interrupted just at the critical
moment, just when he had told her the
object of his visit; and it was odd, to say
the least of it, that she did not seek an
early opportunity for letting him know her
opinion on the really weighty question on
which he had consulted her. And yet she
always knew best; no doubt she thought
it was essential that he should please Lord
Hetherington, who was evidently bent on
showing him those alterations, and,
perhaps, she thought, too, that he might like
to have her answer in writing to refer to
on occasion. What a capital answer it
was! He pulled it out of his pocket, and
looked at it again, so clear and concise
and positive. An excellent helpmate. Yes,
that was what he wanted. How exactly
she appreciated him! Running to Torquay
or Nice? What a funny thing! He had
never heard her complain of being affected
by the cold before, and however she
approved of his intentions in regard to
Maud Creswell, that was the great point.
So ruminated Walter Joyce, the hardheaded
and practical, sliding gradually into
a hundred other thoughts of work to
be done and schemes to be looked into, and
people to be seen, witn which he was so
much engaged that, until he reached London,
both Maud and Lady Caroline were
fairly obliterated from liis mind.

He slept at his chambers that night, and
went down to Helmingham the next day.
There was a station now at the village, and
it was here that Joyce alighted, not merely
because it was more convenient than going
to Brocksopp, but because it saved him the
annoyance of having to run the gauntlet of
a walk through the midst of his constituency,
every other member of which had
a complaint to make or a petition to prefer.
The Helmingham people, of course, were
immensely impressed by the sight of a man
who, originally known to them as pursuing
the mysterious profession of a Schoolmaster