Lord Gartley was in fine humour. He had never before appeared to so great an advantage. Vavasor had not put off his company manner with Hester’s family, however Gartley was almost merry, quite graciously familiar. But how shall I describe his face when major Marvel entered! He had never even suspected his presence. A blank dismay came over him, hardly visible, a strange mingling of annoyance, contempt and fear. But in a moment he had overcome the unworthy sensation and was again seemingly cool.

The major was presented to Miss Vavasor by their hostess as her cousin. Seated next to her at dinner, he did not once allude to pig-sticking or tiger-shooting, to elephants or Hindoos, or even to his regiment or India, but talked about the last opera and the last play, with some good criticisms on the acting he had seen. He conducted himself in such manner as would have made Lord Gartley quite grateful to him had he not put it down to the imperial presence of his high-born aunt and the major’s cowering inferior nature.

All day the major had been tempted toward very different behaviour. Remembering what he had heard of the character of the lady and of the relation between her and her nephew, he knew at once that Lord Gartley was bringing her down with the hope of gaining her consent to his asking Hester to marry him. The rascal! he thought. And with this realization arose his temptation to so behave before the aunt as to disgust her with the family and save his lovely cousin from being sacrificed to a heartless noodle.

“I’ll settle the young ape’s hash for him!” he said to himself. “What jolly fun it will be to send her out of the house in a rage—and a good deed done too!”