mine has had. But she has shown herself an impracticable girl. Above all, I might meet people who would know her name, and have heard of the Fermors. There might be revivals of scandal and unpleasant reminiscences. I have done my duty all my life, why am I to pay the penalty of other people's iniquities? She has been a fool for herself and others, and done a great deal of mischief all round, with her child's face and her goodness. I am not sure that she is not such an idiot as to repent, and, what is still worse, to show her repentance when it is too late, for she looks dreadfully distressed, and is changing colour every minute.'

"Thank you,

But Iris had some spirit left. Lady Thwaite, I should not like to go from home just now, even though grandmamma wished it. It would seem as if I were running away, either from something I had done, or from something that was going to happen,' she finished a little vaguely, but she held up her head, and there was a fine colour in her cheeks while she spoke.

'You are perfectly right. I am glad that you see it in that light,' said Lady Thwaite approvingly. The little gossip which mixes

your name with the affair will soon die out. I wish the misfortune might end there.'

'But is it not possible for everybody to live it down?' said Iris bravely. 'Must you go, Lady Thwaite ?'

'Yes, indeed. I have had a long trip to the Continent in my mind ever since Sir John's death. I was only once abroad, and that was for my honeymoon. But Sir John caught cold the second week, and was not able for sight-seeing, and could not be induced to believe that he would be comfortable or could get well till he was at Whitehills again. Oh yes, I intended to go, but I did not imagine that I should be driven off in this fashion! I wish to goodness I had started at once for a change, and moved on as I felt inclined.'

'But could you not help them,' interposed Iris anxiously-'Sir William and his wife? they will have nobody to stand by them. You are connected with him; you have influence in society.'

Iris Compton, have you lost your senses? what can you mean?' protested Lady Thwaite indignantly. It is bad enough to think of such a woman in my place. It is forcing me

away from my home and my friends, but for you to suggest that I should countenance her!'

'I don't know why you all cry out so against her,' burst from Iris. 'It is not fair, and it is merciless. If she is wild she is not faster in her rank than Lord Eastham's family have gloried in being in theirs. Maudie and Nanny Hollis have done as many things to make people stare, without a particle of the excuse that Honor Smith could plead. You have countenanced Sir William, yet one would have thought that harder to do.'

'It was hard,' said Lady Thwaite ruefully, 'to acknowledge a rude lout in my husband's and boy's place, and to defer to him. But I did it; nobody could say I failed. Oh, Iris, if you had played your part, how much harm and sorrow would have been spared!'

The reproach, however unmerited, fell in with Iris's equally gratuitous compunction and stung her sharply, so sharply that it helped the inconsistency of human nature to reassert itself proudly.

'How can you speak so to me, Lady Thwaite was I this man's keeper? He was something to you; he could be nothing to me.'

'Very well, Iris, let us drop the subject,' said Lady Thwaite, continuing it all the same, while she composed her ruffled plumes. 'It is true I have no call to blame you, but neither should you be so foolish and childish as to suggest that I ought to adopt this illor well-matched couple. The thing is not to be thought of for an instant. It would be improper wrong. It was quite different in Sir William's case. He came here a single man, and we might have made something of him amongst us all-we might have trimmed and polished him by judicious management. Don't put up your lip, you little goose,' Lady Thwaite was provoked to add, though she was no longer out of temper, and was speaking more in sorrow dashed with playfulness, than in anger. You will know some day that men have to be managed for their own good, as well as for a quiet life and an honourable position, where women are concerned. But if I were to attempt to take this Honor Smith up, it would be for no good either to her or anyone else. A woman like her is beyond being subdued and cultivated.'

Lady Thwaite paused for a moment, and then began again: 'Good heavens, Iris, what

could put it into your head to compare her to the Hollis girls and the Eastham family, aristocrats from their cradle, and so with carte blanche for eccentricity? But they But they always know where, to stop, and never risk their prestige. I should soon be let down and cut dead by all my set. I cannot afford that. What do you take me for, that I should fling away all the good things of this life-which are not so easy to get, to begin with, as a short-sighted girl fancies? And for whom should I make the sacrifice-a Sir William, a distant, unacknowledged kinsman of my late husband, and his low-born, ill-conditioned wife, with her doubtful reputation—however you may explain it away and defend her?' Lady Thwaite was silent once more, and then finished with a touch of natural pathos, 'If it had been my boy grown to be a man, and I had negotiated his marriage like a proud mother who would not have counted the best match in the country, or the most beautiful, amiable girl too good for her son; and if he had turned against me, against all his wisest advisers-though I cannot imagine it of Johnnie, supposing he had lived to become strong and grow a man-still, if he had chosen