“I am glad you see the matter as I do. Aunt Constance, I feel I am right. Stuart must be saved from this; and, if we work well, we shall do it. Now I must start for the village. Remember, you will not let your anger be seen.”
“It will be difficult, perhaps,” returned Mrs. Crosbie; “but there is too much at stake, and I will control myself.”
Vane moved away slowly, leaving the mother plunged in bitter thought, and mounted the stairs to her room. She put on her pretty hat, smiling triumphantly at her own image in the mirror, and, drawing on her gloves, passed along the corridor till she reached Stuart’s door.
She knocked softly, and whispered to the servant:
“Is your master awake?”
“Yes, miss.”
“Ask him to come to the door for one minute, if he can.”
Vane fastened the last button of her glove, and then stood waiting, a picture of grace and beauty, as Stuart moved slowly into the doorway.
“I am going now,” she said, gently; “but, before I start, I wanted to let you know that I have succeeded with Aunt Constance. She——”
“She agrees?” interrupted Stuart, resting against the door for support.