Lady Ball was doubtful what she would do. It was on her tongue to tell the man that her niece’s fortune was gone. But she remembered that she might probably advance her own interests by securing an interview between the two lovers of Littlebath in her own presence. She never for a moment doubted that Mr Maguire’s statement was true. It never occurred to her that there had been no such engagement. She felt confident from the moment in which Mr Maguire’s important tidings had reached her ears that she had now in her hands the means of rescuing her son. That Mr Maguire would cease to make his demand for his bride when he should hear the truth, was of course to be expected; but her son would not be such an idiot, such a soft fool, as to go on with his purpose when he should learn that such a secret as this had been kept back from him. She had refused him, and taken up with this horrid, greasy, evil-eyed parson when she was rich; and then, when she was poor,—even before she had got rid of her other engagement, she had come back upon him, and, playing upon his pity, had secured him in her toils. Lady Ball felt well inclined to thank the clergyman for coming to her relief at such a moment.

“It will be best that I should ask my niece to come down to you,” said she, getting up and walking out of the room.

But she did not go up to her niece. She first went to Sir John and quieted his impatience with reference to the driving, and then, after a few minutes’ further delay for consideration, she sent the servant up to her niece. Having done this she returned to the drawing-room, and found Mr Maguire looking at the photographs on the table.

“It is very like dear Margaret, very like her, indeed,” said he, looking at one of Miss Mackenzie. “The sweetest face that ever my eyes rested on! May I ask you if you have just seen your niece, Lady Ball?”

“No, sir, I have not seen her; but I have sent for her.”

There was still some little delay before Margaret came down. She was much fluttered, and wanted time to think, if only time could be allowed to her. Perhaps there had come a man to say that her money was not gone. If so, with what delight would she give it all to her cousin John! That was her first thought. But if so, how then about the promise made to her dying brother? She almost wished that the money might not be hers. Looking to herself only, and to her own happiness, it would certainly be better for her that it should not be hers. And if it should be Mr Rubb with the yellow gloves! But before she could consider that alternative she had opened the door, and there was Mr Maguire standing ready to receive her.