“Is she going to the mill to-morrow?” he asked, ignoring the attack.

“No, she ain’t going to the mill.  It isn’t a right and fitting thing that the woman you’re going to marry and the mother of your future child should be working in a spinning mill; and if you don’t know it, others do.”

“She told you then—­against my wishes?”

“And what are your wishes alongside of your acts?  You’re behaving very wickedly, Mr. Ironsyde, and driving my daughter frantic; and if she can’t tell her mother her sorrows, who should know?”

“She has disobeyed me and done a wrong thing,” he said quietly.  “This may alter the whole situation, and you can tell her so.”

“For God’s sake don’t talk like that.  Would you ruin the pair of us?”

“What am I to do if I can’t trust her?” he asked, and then went abruptly away before Mary could answer.

She was terribly frightened and soon drowned in tears, for when she returned to Sabina and related the conversation, her daughter became passionate and blamed her with a shower of bitter words.

“I only told you, because I thought you had sense enough to keep your mouth shut about it,” she cried.  “Now he’ll think it’s common news and hate me—­hate me for telling.  You’ve ruined me—­that’s what you’ve done, and I may as well go and make a hole in the water as not, for he’ll never marry me now.”

“You told Miss Ironsyde,” sobbed the mother.

“That was different.  She’ll keep it to herself, and I had to tell her to show how serious it was for me.  For anything less than that, she’d have taken his side against me.  And now he’ll find I’ve been to her, and that may—­oh, my God, why didn’t I keep quiet a little longer, and trust him?”

“You had every right to speak, when you found he was telling lies,” said Mrs. Dinnett.

And while they quarrelled, Raymond returned to North Hill in a mood that could not keep silence.  He and Arthur Waldron smoked after supper, and when Estelle had gone to bed, the younger spoke and took up the conversation of the preceding night where he had dropped it.  The speech that now passed, however, proceeded on a false foundation, for Raymond only told Arthur what he pleased and garbled the facts by withholding what was paramount.

“You were talking of Sabina Dinnett last night,” he said.  “What would you think if I told you I was going to marry her, Waldron?”

“A big ‘if.’  But you’re not going to tell me so.  You would surely have told me yesterday if you had meant that.”

“Why shouldn’t I if I want to?”

“I always keep out of personal things—­even with pals.  I strained a point with you last night for friendship, Ray.  Is the deed done, or isn’t it?  If it is, there is nothing left but to congratulate you and wish you both luck.”

“If it isn’t?”

Mr. Waldron was cautious.

“You’re not going to draw me till I know as much as you know, old chap.  Either you’re engaged, or you’re not.”