“No.”  Lydia’s face was bent over the grass, as she tried to aid a bumble-bee which was lying on its back.

“It is generally believed that Mr. Melrose has made him his heir.”

Lydia lifted a face of amazement, at first touched strangely with relief.  “Then—­surely—­he will be able to do what he wants!”

“On the contrary.  His silence has been bought—­that’s what people say.  Mr. Melrose has bribed him to do his work, and defend his iniquities.”

“Oh! Is that fair?” The humble-bee was so hastily poked on to his legs that he tumbled over again.

“Well, now, we shall test him!” said Victoria quietly.  “We shall see what he does with regard to Mrs. Melrose and her daughter.  Harry will have told you how he went to him yesterday.  We had a telephone message this morning to say that a letter would reach us this afternoon from Mr. Faversham.  Harry will bring it on here; and I asked him to bring Felicia Melrose with him in the car.  We thought you would be interested to see her.”

There was a pause.  At last Lydia said slowly: 

“How will you test Mr. Faversham?  I don’t understand.”

“Unless the man is an adventurer,” said Victoria, straightening her shoulders, “he will, of course, do his best to put this girl—­who is the rightful heiress—­into her proper place.  What business has he with Mr. Melrose’s estates?”

Lady Tatham spoke with imperious energy.

Lydia’s eyes showed an almost equal animation.

“May he not share with her?  Aren’t they immense?”

“At present he takes everything—­so they say.  It looks ugly.  A complete stranger—­worming himself in a few weeks or months into an old man’s confidence—­and carrying off the inheritance from a pair of helpless women!  And making himself meanwhile the tool of a tyrant!—­aiding and abetting him in all his oppressions!”

“Oh, Lady Tatham! no, no!” cried Lydia—­the cry seemed wrung from her—­“I—­we—­have only known Mr. Faversham this short time—­but how can one believe—­”

She paused, her eyes under their vividly marked eyebrows painfully searching the face of her companion.

Victoria said to herself, “Heavens!—­she is in love with him—­and she is letting Harry sit up at nights to write to her!”

Her mother’s heart beat fast with anger.  But she held herself in hand.

“Well; as I have said, we shall soon be able to test him,” she repeated, coldly; “we shall soon know what to think.  His letter will show whether he is a man with feeling and conscience—­a gentleman—­or an adventurer!”

There was silence.  Lydia was thinking passionately of Mainstairs and of the deep tones of a man’s voice—­“If you condemn and misunderstand me—­then indeed I shall lose heart!”

A humming sound could be heard in the far distance.

“Here they are,” said Lady Tatham rising.  Victoria’s half-masculine beauty had never been so formidable as it was this afternoon.  Deep in her heart, she carried both pity for Harry, and scorn for this foolish girl walking beside her, who could not recognize her good fortune when it cried out to her.