money I have to Miss Pewsey."
"You can if you like, Aunt Sophia. I don't want your money."
"Reflect," said Miss Wharf violently. "I have a thousand a year. Half of that goes to a distant relative, and the remainder you shall have if you will give this man up. Five hundred a year is not to be thrown away."
"I cannot give Rupert up," said Olivia firmly.
"Think girl," pleaded Miss Wharf, her face becoming red and wrinkled with the violence of her passion, "there are other men who love you. Young Walker would make you a good husband, and Lady Jabe is most anxious for the match."
"I like Chris," said Olivia, "and I have known him all my life. But I can't marry him. I want a master when I marry."
"Then take Clarence Burgh," said Miss Wharf, "he will be your master."
"No. He's a brute."
"He's a man – much more of a man than Rupert Ainsleigh."
"I deny that" said Olivia fiercely.
"He is. Clarence has been all over the world. He has fought everywhere – "
"So has Major Tidman. Do you advise me to marry him?"
"He would make you a better husband than Rupert, old as he is. That young Ainsleigh is a dreamer. He is on the point of losing his estates, yet he sits at Royabay doing nothing."
"He intends to do something, and save the estates."
"Never. He is not the sort of man to work. Olivia if you will take Chris Walker, or Clarence Burgh for your husband I shall leave you five hundred a year. If you refuse I give you nothing."
"I prefer nothing – and Rupert."
"Then you shall not have him. I'll ruin him first."
Olivia started. "You can't ruin him. You talk wildly."
"Oh do I," sneered Miss Wharf, "that shows you know little of me or of my business. Listen. I bought up a mortgage on the Royabay estate. It cost me money which I could ill afford to pay away. But I bought it so as to ruin the son of that woman Vane who took Markham from me. I always intended to buy the estate, or at least to drive Rupert from the place, but if you will give him up, I shall forego my revenge. Now what do you say?"
"Nothing," faltered Olivia, who had turned very pale. "I don't know what to say."
"Will you give the man up."
"I won't see him, if that will please you."
"No. It doesn't please me. You must give him up, and engage yourself to Mr. Walker or to Mr. Burgh."
"I cannot – I cannot – " said poor Olivia.
Miss Wharf stamped her foot and bit her lip. "You are as obstinate as your mother was before you," she said savagely. "I shall give you one month to make up your mind, and that is very generous of me. If you surrender Rupert and choose one of the other two, I will not foreclose the mortgage and will leave you five hundred a year."
"When can you foreclose?" asked Olivia anxiously.
"By the end of the year. So it rests with you, if Rupert Ainsleigh leaves his home in six months or keeps it. Now you can go."
Olivia Rayner was not a girl who would stand dictation. But for some reason or another she meekly bowed her head and went out, leaving Miss Wharf to calm down over her needle-work.
The girl went to her own room, and lay down to think over the situation. What she thought or what plan she conceived, it is difficult to say; but she came down to dinner quite composed. Her aunt looked at her sharply, and Miss Pewsey with suspicion, but neither of them made any remark bearing on the storm. On the contrary Miss Wharf chatted about the ball and talked of her dress and even advised Olivia about her costume. "You will look very well in white," said Miss Wharf.
"But not so lovely as my Sophia in pale blue," said Miss Pewsey with her usual emphasis. "I know you will be the belle of the ball darling Sophia."
"I have been the belle of several balls in my time," said Miss Wharf good-humouredly.
"And will be still," purred Miss Pewsey like the cat she was, "my dear nephew said you were a rattling fine woman."
"It sounds like one of Mr. Burgh's speeches," said Olivia with great contempt. She knew that the buccaneer loved her, and therefore disliked him the more.
"Oh Olivia how can you," cried the little old maid, throwing up her hands, "when poor, dear, darling, Clarence worships the ground you walk on. He's got money too, and wants a wife!"
"Let him marry Lotty Dean then."
"That retired grocer's daughter," cried Miss Pewsey, drawing herself up, "no indeed. I may be poor, but I am of gentle blood Olivia. The Pewsey's have been in Essex for generations. My papa was rich and could afford to send me to a fashionable school when I met my own Sophia. But poor sweet papa lost his money and then – oh, dear me." Miss Pewsey squeezed out a tear. "What sad times I have had."
"You're all right now, Lavinia," said Miss Wharf stolidly, eating fruit and sipping port wine.
"Yes dearest Sophia, thanks to your large and generous heart. I have no one in the world but you and Clarence. He is the son of my only sister, and has travelled – "
"In China," said Olivia.
Miss Pewsey narrowed her eyes and looked as though about to scratch.
"In China, of course. But why do you make that remark, Olivia?"
The girl shrugged her shoulders. "I observed that Mr. Burgh has not very pleasant recollections of China," she said deliberately, "he was not pleased to find that Mr. Walker could talk the language, and he was uncomfortable when the name Tung-yu was mentioned."
Miss Pewsey bit her lip. "Do you know anything of Tung-yu?"
"No. Why should I. All I know, is that Chris Walker says he will bring the man down here for the ball."
The little old maid looked hard at the girl, but Olivia bore her scrutiny composedly. She wondered why Miss Pewsey stared so hard, and laid such emphasis on the Chinese name, but the matter slipped from her mind when she retired to her room. She would have wondered still more had she known that Miss Pewsey came up the stairs and listened at the door of the bed-room.
Olivia had arranged to meet Rupert near the band-stand, as their meetings were secret because of Miss Wharf's dislike. Certainly the young man had come to the house, and Miss Wharf had received him with cold dignity: but when he showed a marked preference for Olivia's company, she gave him to understand that she did not approve. Henceforth Rupert stopped away from Ivy Lodge, and met Olivia at intervals near the band-stand. So Olivia, putting on a dark dress and a veil, slipped out of the house, and took her way along the brilliantly lighted front. She had often gone before and always had left her aunt and Miss Pewsey sitting in the drawing-room, Miss Wharf working and the companion reading the newspaper. Miss Wharf never by any chance looked at a newspaper herself, but left it to Miss Pewsey to cull the choice news for her delectation.
So Olivia, feeling quite safe, stepped lightly along to where the crowd gathered round the stand. It was a perfect night and very warm, therefore many people were seated in the chairs and strolling across the grass. Olivia went to
