The Hoyden | Page 9

side, and Miss Knollys can
see it is full of broken biscuits. The pulling up of the skirt conduces a
good deal to the showing of a lovely little foot and ankle, and Margaret,
who has the word "hoyden" still ringing in her ears, and can see Lady
Rylton's cold, aristocratic, disdainful face, wishes the girl had had the
biscuit in a basket.
"Oh, here is Miss Knollys!" cries Tita, running to her. "We are going to
feed the swans" (she looks back at her companion). "He has got some
more biscuits in his pockets."
"It's quite true," says Mr. Gower; "I'm nothing but biscuits. Every
pocket's full of 'em, and they've gone to dust. I tried to blow my nose a
moment ago, but I couldn't. One can't blow one's nose in biscuit."
"Come with us, Miss Knollys--do," says Tita coaxingly.
"I can't. Not now. I can't," says Margaret, who is a little troubled at
heart. "Go, dear child, and feed the swans, and take care of her,
Randy--take care of her."
"I'll do my best," says Mr. Gower, with much solemnity; "but it's
small--very small. As a rule, Miss Bolton takes care of me."
Margaret gives him a last admonitory glance and turns away. In truth,
Mr. Gower is but a broken reed to lean upon.

CHAPTER III.
HOW LADY RYLTON SAYS A FEW THINGS THAT WOULD
HAVE BEEN BETTER LEFT UNSAID. HOW "THE SCHEME" IS
LAID BEFORE SIR MAURICE, AND HOW HE REFUSES TO
HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH IT.

In the meantime the conversation in the drawing-room has been going
on.
"Of course, if you think you can persuade him," says Mrs. Bethune
presently.
"I know I shall. One can always persuade a man where his interests lie.
Besides, I have great weight with him. I tell you I shall manage him. I
could always manage his father."

A curious expression crosses Mrs. Bethune's face. The present Baronet
may not prove so easy of management as his father!
"Well, I can only wish you success," says she, with a shrug. "By the
way, Margaret did not back you up in this scheme as cordially as I
deemed possible."
"Margaret is troublesome," says Lady Rylton. "Just when you expect
her to sympathize with you, she starts off at a tangent on some other
absurd idea. She is full of fads. After all, it would be rash to depend on
her. But you, Marian--you owe me much."
"How much? My life's blood?"
Mrs. Bethune lets her hands fall clasped upon her knees, and, leaning
over them, looks at her aunt--such a wonderfully young aunt, with her
yellow hair and her sparkling eyes! Marian's lips have taken a cynical
turn; her smile now is unpleasant.
"What a hideous expression!" says Lady Rylton, shuddering. "You
spoil yourself, Marian; you do indeed. You will never make a good
marriage if you talk like that. 'Life's blood'!--_detestable!"_
"I don't desire a good marriage, as you regard it."
Lady Rylton sits suddenly quite upright.
"If you mean marriage with Maurice," says she, "put that out of your
head. You must be mad to cherish such a hope. You are both paupers,
for one thing, and for the rest, I assure you, my dear, Maurice is not as
infatuated about you as you are about him!"
Mrs. Bethune makes a sudden movement; it is slight. Her face darkens.
One reading between the lines might at this moment see that she could
have killed Lady Rylton with a wondrous joy. Killing has its
consequences, however, and she only stands quite quiet, looking at her
foe. What a look it is!
"It is you who are mad," says she calmly. "What I meant was that I
should probably marry some rich nobody for the sake of his wealth. It
would be quite in my line. I should arrange him, form him, bring him
into Society, even against Society's will! There is a certain excitement
in the adventure. As for Maurice, he is no doubt in your eyes a
demigod--in mine," with infinite contempt, "he is a man."
"Well, I hope you will keep to all that," says Lady Rylton, who is
shrewd as she is cruel, "and that you will not interfere with this
marriage I have arranged for Maurice."

"Why would I interfere?"
"Because you interfere always. You can't bear to see any man love any
woman but yourself."
Mrs. Bethune smiles. "A common fault. It belongs to most women. But
this girl--you like her?"
"On the contrary, as I have told you, I detest her. Once Maurice has her
money safely in his hands, I shall know how to deal with her. A little,
ignorant, detestable child! I tell you, Marian, that the time will come
when I shall pay her out for her