"I'll tell him the truth. I'll go and tell him at once."
"But still you don't understand. My aunt wants me to marry him."
"I know she does, and know she'll be disappointed," cried Dyce, exultantly.
"But do you suppose that Lord Dymchurch will stay here any longer? He will leave this very morning, I'm sure he will. My aunt will want to know what it means. There'll be dreadful explanations."
"Keep calm, May. If we lose our courage, it's all over with us. We have to deal boldly with Lady Ogram. Remember that she is very old and weak; I'm perfectly sure she can't resist you and me if we speak to her in the proper way—quietly and reasonably and firmly. We have made up our minds, haven't we? You are mine, dearest May! There's no more doubt about that!"
"Miss Bride will be our deadly enemy," said May, again yielding to his caresses.
"Enemy!" Dyce exclaimed. "Why?"
"Surely you don't need to be told. She dislikes me already (as I do her), and now she will hate me. She'll do her best to injure us with Lady Ogram."
"You're mistaken. I have only to see her and talk to her—as I will, this morning. Before luncheon, she shall be firmly on our side, I promise you! Don't have the least anxiety about her. The only serious difficulty is with Lady Ogram."
"You mean to tell Miss Bride the truth?" exclaimed May. "You mean to tell her what has happened this morning? I forbid you to do so! I forbid you!"