and spout some rubbish they have got up
beforehand, and these are the men that are
called ' useful in their generation.' It is all
humbug."

"I don't think so. It is not humbug to
the men themselves. They are at least
doing themselves less harm than passing
their lives with a gun, a cigar, or a billiard-cue
for ever in their hand."

"You little utilitarian, that is a hit at
me!" cried Lowndes, laughing; and, as she
stretched out her hand to reach the scissors,
he tried to seize it. She drew it quickly
back. " Never mind, I'd rather have that
little hand in mine than all the guns, and
cigars, and billiard-cues put together,
Mary."

"If I wanted to confirm the truth of
what I was saying, Mr. Cartaret, your
folly would be enough. You have nothing
in the world to do, so you try and kill time
by talking nonsense here."

"Wrong again, Mary. I have more than
enough that I ought to be doing. I was
due at Uplands on Monday, and at the
Grange yesterday, and I preferred remaining
here."

"The more shame for you! A mere
pleasure-seeker, who does no good to
himself or any one else either, always seems to
me to be a wretched creature. I have the
greatest contempt for such people."

She got up, and walked to the other end
of the room, and he, in his anger, turned to
the window. " Wretched creature!" " Contempt!"
He had never heard such words,
ever so distantly, applied to himself before:
he the idol of mother, friends, society in
general, and women in particular! She
had certainly succeeded in making him
very angry, if this was her object. He
vowed, as he stood there, gnawing his lip
at the window, that this insolent village-girl
should be made to pay dearly for treating
him thus. And it was just then that
Mrs. Rouse bounced in.

"I thought missis was here," muttered
the housekeeper.

"How the deuce could you think that
when she told you, half an hour ago, she
was going down to see Rogers's sick child
at the cottage?"

"Really, sir ... I ... well, I thought
she had returned. . . . But really, Mr.
Lowndes, I'm not accustomed, no, sir, I'm
not, to be spoken to in that sort of way,
Mr. Lowndes."

"Perhaps it is a pity you are not
accustomed to it a little oftener," thundered
out the young man. " Go down-stairs,
and desire James to bring my cob round
to the door, and be good enough, in
future, Mrs. Rouse, not to burst into the
room in that sort of way when I am
here." And having vented his rage thus
upon the first object that came to hand, he
strode off, without so much as looking in
Maud's direction.

As soon as the door had slammed behind
him, Mrs. Rouse's indignation, which
quivered through her mighty frame, burst
forth:

"Very pretty, upon my word! Well! a
nice pass things is come to, when I mayn't
come into my own missis's room without
saying ' by your leave ' to him, indeed!
But I can tell him I'm not going to stand
being spoke to in that way, and wouldn't,
not if it was fifty Mr. Lowndeses. But I'll
speak to Mrs. Cartaret, I will. I'll tell her
that I don't know what Mr. Lowndes is
after up here, when she is out, but I ain't
going to be shut out of my own missis's room,
as is my rightful place, not for him, nor
for you either, Mary Hind. And I must
say this, young woman; that afore you
came, I never knew Mr. Lowndes to
misbehave hisself, and use such language to
me, as has been his mother's servant these
sixteen years and more, and its very
strange, that's all I have to say, and I'd
advise you to look sharp what you're
about, Mary Hind, that's all."

Whereat the irate housekeeper also strode
off, and slammed the door behind her. And
Maud stood there, and said nothing. Her
impetuosity would naturally have led her
to reply in strong language to Mrs. Rouse's
innuendoes, but something at her heart,
something which Mrs. Rouse's words did
not, indeed, reach, but which lay there like
a stone, seemed to choke her, to paralyse
any power of self-justification. And yet
Heaven knew how untrue it was that she
had encouraged Lowndes Cartaret to seek
her society. Had she not told him over
and over again to leave her? Had she ever
given him reason to think that his presence
was agreeable to her? Had she not, on
the contrary, spoken so rudely to him more
than once, that any other man than this
would have considered her language
unpardonable? Nay, at that very minute,
had it not been her words which had led
to his venting his spleen upon Mrs. Rouse?
And yet—and yet, there was that at her
heart which leaped up, and seemed to
impede her utterance when her pride urged
her to repel the insinuations of the angry
housekeeper. It was shamefully, miserably