'My dear lady--there's nothing to be done with her whatever.

She will not yield one inch--and I cannot.

But one thing at last is clear to me.

The mischief has made progress--I fear, great progress.' Manisty had drawn his cousin into the garden, and they were pacing the avenue.

With his last words he turned upon her a grave significant look.
The cause of Alice Manisty's visit, indeed, had turned out to be precisely what Manisty supposed.