It is an odd delusion to which young men are subject, that, because they admire, perhaps even love a woman, they have a claim on her love. Arthur was confident that he loved Barbara as never man had loved, as never woman had desired to be loved, and therefore counted it not merely unjust but cruel of her to show him no kindness that revealed her equal attraction to him. He did not know or suspect that two weeks of the London social season would make him nearly forget her. He was not a bad sort of fellow, had no evil vices, was not a snob or a cad. His worse fault was pride in himself because of his family—pride in everything he had been born to. He was not jealous of Barbara’s pleasure in Richard’s company. The slightest probe of such a feeling toward a man so infinitely beneath him would have been degrading. To think of himself and the bookbinder in one brief moment of comparison would have been to insult all the Lestranges that ever lived. Tuke had no raison d’étre but work for the library that would one day be Arthur’s, and by its excellence add to the honour of Mortgrange. He forgot that Richard had opened his eyes to its merit. By this time he imagined himself the discoverer of its value, and did he not pay the man for his work? And is not what a man pays for his own? That the workman in the library knew as much about the insides as about the outsides of the books, gave him no dignity in his eyes, though it did make him a bit more friendly to him.

Little Vixen ran out to Barbara and made herself less unpleasant than usual—she was preparing, by what blandishment she was mistress of, to put forward a complaint against the man in the library. If Vixen could create motion and commotion, turmoil and passion around her, she did not care how it arose, or which of the persons involved got the worse in it. She accompanied Barbara to the stable and as they walked back together gave her such an account of what had taken place that Barbara, distrusting the child, nevertheless felt a little anxious. She knew Richard’s spirit, knew that he would never show her ladyship the false respect a tradesman often shows, and was afraid lest he should have to leave the house. She must see lady Ann and give her the opportunity to say whatever she might on the matter.

Barbara was under no pledge of secrecy to Alice or anyone. She was free to do what might seem for the best—that is, for Richard’s good.