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she drove very slowly, the baroness had time enough on the way home to think over her situation once more. A somewhat quieter spirit pervaded her thoughts now, and soothed her troubled mind.

The likeness of the child to Mundy might have been only accidental; even the mole near the left ear was perhaps nothing but a freak of nature, which is sometimes fitful. And even if the child was Mundy’s after all, was not such a thing a common everyday occurrence in aristocratic families, even in the highest of them? Why had she troubled and excited herself so much as even to endanger her most valuable treasure, her own health, about a common matter that was, after all, not of such great importance? The baroness knew very well that this was mere sophistry, yet from the nature of her character she could not act otherwise.

The worst thing of all was, that she had chiefly to blame herself for the way matters had turned out. If she had not been such a domineering spirit herself, she might have got Mundy married long ago. It also stung her very painfully to think that, with all her sharpness and watchfulness, she had let herself be so deceived by Mundy and Jenny. But what was done could not