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"Nay, are you not a silk-merchant's wife, madam?" asked Marian, holding her ground stoutly.

An angry blush rose to Mrs. Van Tromp's cheek. This was clearly unendurable.

"I am. Nor have I ever had occasion to blush for any of my husband's commercial transactions; and I insist" (in the tone of "I command") "that you let me pass."

"Let you pass before the daughter of Lord Howard de Winstanley? Madam, if even for the sake of blessed peace I let you pass, would I not do my lineage wrong, my order wrong? Is not the law of precedence well fixed? Good lack! when peddlers' wives take the way of peers' daughters, then will there be fine coil."

Mrs. Van Tromp started back as if she had been shot. She turned to Macfarren with a look which said, "Explain." Macfarren saw the road to peace open.

"May I present to you the Lady Marian de Winstanley, of King's Lyndon, in Suffolk?" Feeling obliged to say something more, he added, "The Lady Marian is unused to our methods, and—a—does not fully—"

But Mrs. Van Tromp relieved him of the embarrassment of proceeding further. She held out her hand to Marian with a brilliant smile. "How am I to apologize?" she said. "I didn't comprehend. How rude you must have thought me! Of course Lady Marian could not be expected to understand our methods."