"Then why did you marry him?"

"When I married him, Jemmy, there was a prospect--oh, how could I
resist it? Think of being one of the Le Basques! Held in honor,
to the end of my life, by that noble family, whether my husband
lived or died!"

To the barman's ears, this sounded like sheer nonsense. His
experience in the public-house suggested an explanation. "I say,
my girl, have you been drinking?"

Mrs. Westerfield's first impulse led her to rise and point
indignantly to the door. He had only to look at her--and she sat
down again a tamed woman. "You don't understand how the chance
tempted me," she answered, gently.

"What chance do you mean?"

"The chance, dear, of being a lord's mother."

He was still puzzled, but he lowered his tone. The true-born
Briton bowed by instinct before the woman who had jilted him,
when she presented herself in the character of a lord's mother.
"How do you make that out, Maria?" he asked politely.

She drew her chair nearer to him, when he called her by her
Christian name for the first time.

"When Westerfield was courting me," she said, "his brother (my
lord) was a bachelor. A lady--if one can call such a creature a