courtesy to a total stranger, and shall intrude
no longer." She tried to pass Colonel Chutney
as she spoke, but he stopped her.

"Come, come," he said, sternly, "I have a
right to demand an explanation of your
presence here. I am not going to allow my wife's
nearest female relative to peril her fair fame
without knowing the reason why."

"Sir!" returned Mary, indignant, frightened,
yet striving gallantly for self-possession. "Has
your friend Sir Frederic Samperton fallen so
low in your estimation that a lady cannot seek
a business interview with him without
suspicion?"

"Don't talk nonsense to me," retorted the
colonel, now in one of his passions. "I'll have
the whole truth out. I'll lock you up. I'll
hand you over to your aunt!"

"Pray, Colonel Chutney, exercise a little
self-control," said Samperton, mildly; "but,
above all, as this young lady justly observes, do
not asperse my character."

Peake also suggested that the affair was, he
felt sure, perfectly explicable.

"I do not believe a word of it," shouted
Chutney, now scarlet with rage. Turning to
Mary, he added: "And you—I think you ought
to be ashamed of yourself."

"I do not care what you think," returned
Mary; "I know I have nothing to be ashamed
of. I shall not break my heart if no one believes
me." And she burst into tears.

"I believe you, Miss Holden," said Captain
Peake, soothingly, coming to her side; he
would have said more if he had known what to
say, but he didn't.

"Let me go away," wept Mary. "I will
explain nothing."

"Yes, I'll take you away, and see you safe
home," cried the colonel, seizing her. "Peake,
you must tell your story about your seamen
and their prize money to Samperton yourself.
As for you, Sir Frederic, I'll see you to-morrow."

Colonel Chutney then departed, vindictively
leading out the culprit.

CHAPTER V.

THE next evening Mrs. Chutney sat alone in
the library, expecting the return of her lord to
dinner, and hoping earnestly he would fulfil his
intention of bringing Captain Peake with him,
a tête-à-tête under existing circumstances being
a trial which was almost more than her weakened
nerves could bear.

Mrs. Chutney looked very pale; traces of
tears dimmed her soft eyes. She had passed a
most distressing day. She had been early
despatched to extract the truth from Mary Holden,
who had been left in durance vile with the
redoubtable Aunt Barbara. But tears and caresses
were as unavailing as threats. Mary seemed to
harden under Miss Bousfield's taunts and
reproaches. Poor Mrs. Chutney was in despair;
fluctuating between her unbounded confidence
in, and admiration of, her cousin, and the
undoubted evidence of her indiscretion—for Mary
admitted that her unknown admirer proved to
be Sir Frederic Samperton; a fact which,
although Mrs. Chutney carefully suppressed,
filled up the measure of her uneasiness. Mary
herself too, though angry, and putting on a bold
front, was, Mrs. Chutney could see, frightened
and anxious. "If she would but open her
heart to me!" thought the tearful Louisa. "It
must be something very strange, or she would
tell me. I trust it will all come right by
Tuesday next, or I do not know how I shall
manage the dinner—perhaps, indeed, the colonel
will put Sir Frederic off, though he has fixed
the day himself."

At this point in her cogitations a ring at the
hall-door bell set her heart beating. She glanced
at the clock. Ten minutes to six—it was Colonel
Chutney, of course, and she shuddered in
anticipation of the well-known cloud upon his
brow, and inevitable outbreak of indignation
with which, whatever and whoever first
encountered him, would be greeted. It was, therefore,
a certain relief, though a great surprise,
when "Mr. Adolphus Deal" was announced;
especially as that gentleman presented himself
in accurate evening costume—a waistcoat with
jewelled buttons, elaborate shirt-front, a mere
thread of a white tie, patent leather boots, and
a crush hat.

"He has evidently come to dine," Mrs. Chutney
thought. "Some mistake. How shall I
get rid of him before Colonel Chutney arrives?"
She then advanced a step or two, and said
interrogatively, with an air of polite surprise,

"Mr. Deal?"

"Yes," replied the exquisite upholsterer, with
a smile and bow; both marred by nervousness.
"I am here in obedience to your lightest wish.
I have selected the earliest moment you named,
and trusted to your delicate tact to manage
everything— all—a—in short—all serene."

"Mad!" thought Louisa. "I am sure, Mr.
Deal," she said aloud, "I am much obliged by
the promptitude with which you have executed
all our orders; but did you not get a note
from me this morning, in which I explained
that——?"

Deal foresaw something uncomfortable, and
stammered hastily, " No, I received no second
communication."

"I really do not understand you," said Mrs.
Chutney, almost peevishly. "But, after sending
you that note on Monday, I found that I had
unconsciously mistaken——"

"Then he does not dine out to-day?"
interrupted Deal, eagerly. "But fear not, I shall
vanish at your slightest wish. Perish every
consideration except your happiness!"

This dramatic burst bewildered Mrs. Chutney
more than ever. "You see," she returned
incoherently, "I put them into wrong envelopes,
and saw immediately the danger of Colonel
Chutney discovering the error—in short, Mr.
Deal, he is rather peculiar, and I wish you
would be so good as to go away."

"I am gone," replied Adolphus, with what
he intended for an air of chivalrous devotion.