The Hoyden | Page 5

But how to bring Maurice to the point? He is so very
difficult. _You,_ Marian--you have influence with him----"
"I?"
Mrs. Bethune rises in the slow, beautiful fashion that is hers always;
she moves towards the window. There is no hurry, no undue haste, to
betray the disquietude of her soul.
"You--you, of course," says Lady Rylton peevishly. "I always rely
upon you."
"I have no influence!"
"You mean, of course, that you will not use it," says Lady Rylton
angrily. "You still think that you will marry him yourself, that perhaps
his uncle will die and leave him once more a rich man--the master of
The Place, as the old Place's master should be; but that is a distant
prospect, Marian."
Mrs. Bethune has swung around, her beautiful figure is drawn up to its
most stately height.
"Not another word!" says she imperiously. "What have I to do with
your son? Let him marry--let him marry----" She pauses as if choking,
but goes on again: "I tell you I have no influence--_none!_ Appeal to
Margaret, she may help you!"
"She--no!"
"Hush! here she is. Yes; ask her," says Mrs. Bethune, as if desirous of
letting Lady Rylton hear the opinion of the new-comer on this
extraordinary subject.

CHAPTER II.
HOW MARGARET PLEADS FOR THE LITTLE HOYDEN, AND
WITH WHAT ILL-SUCCESS.

Margaret Knollys, entering the room and seeing the signs of agitation
in the two faces before her, stops on the threshold.
"I am disturbing you. I can come again," says she, in her clear, calm
voice.
"No," says Mrs. Bethune abruptly.
She makes a gesture as if to keep her.
"Not at all. Not at all, dear Margaret. Pray stay, and give me a little
help," says Lady Rylton plaintively.
She pulls forward a little chair near her, as if to show Margaret that she
must say, and Miss Knollys comes quickly to her. Marian Bethune is
Lady Rylton's real niece. Margaret is her niece by marriage.
A niece to be proud of, in spite of the fact that she is thirty years of age
and still unmarried. Her features, taken separately, would debar her for
ever from being called either pretty or beautiful; yet there have been
many in her life-time who admired her, and three, at all events, who
would have gladly given their all to call her theirs. Of these one is dead,
and one is married, and one--still hopes.
There had been a fourth. Margaret loved him! Yet he was the only one
whom Margaret should not have loved. He was unworthy in all points.
Yet, when he went abroad, breaking cruelly and indifferently all ties
with her (they had been engaged), Margaret still clung to him, and ever
since has refused all comers for his sake. Her face is long and utterly
devoid of colour; her nose is too large; her mouth a trifle too firm for
beauty; her eyes, dark and earnest, have, however, a singular
fascination of their own, and when she smiles one feels that one must
love her. She is a very tall woman, and slight, and gracious in her ways.
She is, too, a great heiress, and a woman of business, having been left
to manage a huge property at the age of twenty-two. Her management
up to this has been faultless.

"Now, how can I help you?" asks she, looking at Lady Rylton. "What is
distressing you?"
"Oh! you know," says Mrs. Bethune, breaking impatiently into the
conversation. "About Maurice and this girl! This new girl! There,"
contemptuously, "have been so many of them!"
"You mean Miss Bolton," says Margaret, in her quiet way. "Do you
seriously mean," addressing Lady Rylton, "that you desire this
marriage?"
_ "Desire_ it? No. It is a necessity!" says Lady Rylton. "Who could
desire a daughter-in-law of no lineage, and with the most objectionable
tastes? But she has money! That throws a cloak over all defects."
"I don't think that poor child has so many defects as you fancy," says
Miss Knollys. "But for all that I should not regard her as a suitable wife
for Maurice."
Mrs. Bethune leans back in her chair and laughs.
"A suitable wife for Maurice!" repeats she. "Where is she to be found?"
"Here! In this girl!" declares Lady Rylton solemnly. "Margaret, you
know how we are situated. You know how low we have fallen--you can
understand that in this marriage lies our last hope. If Maurice can be
induced to marry Miss Bolton----"
A sound of merry laughter interrupts her here. There comes the sound
of steps upon the terrace--running steps. Instinctively the three women
within the room grow silent and draw back a little. Barely in time; a
tiny, vivacious figure springs into view, followed by a young man of
rather stout proportions.
"No, no,