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diff --git a/old/69413-0.txt b/old/69413-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 279e807..0000000 --- a/old/69413-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,11533 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Pamela Pounce, by Agnes Castle - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Pamela Pounce - A tale of tempestuous petticoats - -Authors: Agnes Castle - Egerton Castle - -Release Date: November 23, 2022 [eBook #69413] - -Language: English - -Produced by: David Garcia, David E. Brown, and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was - produced from images generously made available by The - Internet Archive) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PAMELA POUNCE *** - - - - - -PAMELA POUNCE - - - - - _WORKS BY THE SAME AUTHOR_ - - THE INCOMPARABLE BELLAIRS - JOHN SENESCHAL’S MARGARET - THE PRIDE OF JENNICO, ETC. - - _HODDER AND STOUGHTON LIMITED_ - - - - - PAMELA POUNCE - - A TALE OF - TEMPESTUOUS PETTICOATS - - BY - AGNES & EGERTON CASTLE - - HODDER AND STOUGHTON LTD. - TORONTO LONDON NEW YORK - ST. PAUL’S HOUSE WARWICK SQUARE E.C.4 - - - - - CONTENTS - - - PAGE - - PREFACE ix - - PROLOGUE xiii - - - CHAPTER I - - HOW MY LADY KILCRONEY ENTERED INTO ROYAL SERVICE UNDER THE - SHADOW OF THE ITALIAN HAT TRIMMED BY MISS PAMELA POUNCE 17 - - CHAPTER II - - IN WHICH MISS PAMELA POUNCE IS ORDERED TO PACK 47 - - CHAPTER III - - IN WHICH MISS PAMELA POUNCE, THE MILLINER’S ASSISTANT, - BECOMES ARBITER OF LIFE AND DEATH IN HIGH SOCIETY 58 - - CHAPTER IV - - SHOWING STORM WITHIN AND WITHOUT 79 - - CHAPTER V - - IN WHICH MISS PAMELA POUNCE DEMONSTRATES THE VALUE OF - VIRTUE TO HER FAMILY AND HER FRIENDS 106 - - CHAPTER VI - - IN WHICH MY LADY KILCRONEY STRIKES A MATCH - AND MISS POUNCE THROWS COLD WATER ON IT 131 - - CHAPTER VII - - IN WHICH IS MANIFEST THE HAND OF THE SAINTED JULIA 152 - - CHAPTER VIII - - IN WHICH A WONDERFUL BIT OF LUCK COMES OUT OF MISS - POUNCE’S BANDBOX FOR SOMEBODY ELSE 162 - - CHAPTER IX - - IN WHICH MISS PAMELA POUNCE HAS DONE WITH LOVE 187 - - CHAPTER X - - IN WHICH MISS PAMELA POUNCE SETS THREE BLACK FEATHERS - FOR TRAGEDY 202 - - CHAPTER XI - - IN WHICH THERE IS A PRODIGIOUS SCANDAL ABOUT PINK FLOUNCES 227 - - CHAPTER XII - - IN WHICH MY LADY KILCRONEY INSISTS ON THE DUTY OF MORALITY 238 - - CHAPTER XIII - - IN WHICH MY LADY KILCRONEY MAKES AN INDELICATE FUSS 254 - - CHAPTER XIV - - IN WHICH KITTY IS MORE INCOMPARABLE THAN EVER 274 - - CHAPTER XV - - IN WHICH THE MAD BRAT TAKES THE BIT BETWEEN HER - TEETH, BUT MISS PAMELA POUNCE KEEPS HOLD OF THE REINS 285 - - CHAPTER XVI - - IN WHICH MY LADY KILCRONEY HAS THE LAST WORD 313 - - - - -PREFACE - - -There can be no doubt that shedding her petticoats a woman has shed -much, if not all, of her femininity, till she is now merely a person of -an opposite sex. She is a female; for nothing will ever make her a man, -but Woman (with a capital W), Woman with her charm, her elusiveness, -her mystery, her reserves, her virginal withdrawals, her exquisite -yieldings; she is that no longer. - -How much of her queenship has she not given up with her petticoats? - -At no time was Woman more thoroughly feminine, more absolutely -mistress of her own fascinations and of the hearts of men, than in the -eighteenth century; preferably the latter half. - -That was a time when it may be said that no woman could look ugly; -that beauty became irresistible. Take the period consecrated by the -art of Sir Joshua Reynolds, and of Romney; take the picture of the -Parson’s Daughter, by the latter artist; that little face, so piquante, -innocent, fresh, sly, mischievous, is nothing at all without its cloud -of powdered curls but a very ordinary visage; almost common indeed! -With its distinctive coiffure, framing, softening, etherealising, -giving depth to the eyes and allurement to the smile; how irresistibly -delicious! How irresistibly delicious, too, is the mode which exposes -the young throat so modestly between the soft folds of the muslin -kerchief. - -Youth then, even without much beauty, is served to perfection by the -taste of the period. What of beauty itself? Look at the portrait of the -Duchess of Devonshire, by Sir Joshua Reynolds, the famous one with the -big hat, where she is holding the dancing baby. There is an answer more -eloquent than any words can give. - -And, rarest thing in a fashion! it became age as completely. Even -elderliness emerged triumphant. I vow that Mrs. Hardcastle, Mrs. -Malaprop, Mrs. Primrose are delightful figures of buxomness on -any stage. Their double chins assume a pleasant sort of dignity, -overshadowed by the curls and loops of their tremendous coiffures. The -dress with its panniers, its apron, its general amplitude is peculiarly -advantageous to the too, too solid flesh of the matron. - -The mode of the moment has a singular effect on the morals of the -moment. Our emotions are more moulded and coloured by our clothes than -we are aware. - -It is quite certain that when a young lady went panniered and patched, -fichued and ruffled, powdered and rouged, tripping on high heels, ready -for the minuet, her feelings went delicately with her, metaphorically -garbed in daintiness to match. - -And, when a gentleman of fashion was a Beau; when his fine leg showed -to its utmost in a silk stocking; when his pampered hand was as elegant -of gesture with a pinch of snuff between falling ruffles as it was in -whipping out a small sword, he retained his masculine virility none -the less; but like the blade of that same small sword, was cutting, -polished, deadly, vicious even, all within the measure of courtesy and -refinement. - -The world has mightily changed since the days when hearts beat under -the folds of the fichu or against the exquisite embroideries of the -waistcoat. Sad divagations then, as now, were taken out of the path of -rectitude, but they were taken with a rustle of protesting petticoats, -to the gallant accompaniment of buckled shoes or, more romantic still, -dashing top-boots. - -A tale of 1788 is necessarily a tale of petticoats. - - “A winning wave, deserving note - Of a tempestuous petticoat,” - -cries the poet of an earlier age. Femininity must needs rustle and -whisper, and curtsy and flounce through every chapter. - - * * * * * - -The collaborator whose name appears for the last time on this title -page, turned to the century of The Bath Comedy and the subsequent and -connected chronicles as a kind of relaxation of the mind from what -he most hated: the ugliness of modern life. The realism which sets -itself to describe the material, the grosser aspect of any emotion, -the brutality that miscalls itself strength, that forcing of the note -of horror--which is no more power than the beating of a tin can or -the shrieking of a syren is music--were abhorrent to him. He liked -the pretty period in spite of its artificialities; he liked the whole -glamour of the time; he liked its reticence and its gaiety, its -politeness, its wit, and its naughtiness and its quaintness, because, -as in an artistic bout of fencing, it was all bounded by a certain -measure of grace and rule. - -The laughter he gave to these conceptions came, as true laughter must, -from a most innocent and wholesome heart. It is this laughter which is -his last legacy to a sad, tangled, and rather ugly world. - - AGNES EGERTON CASTLE. - - - - -PROLOGUE - - -“_No man is hero to his valet_”; so runs the cynical adage. But you can -reverse the saying with reference to the other sex. _Every woman is a -heroine to her lady’s maid_; it may not be true in all cases, but ’tis -true enough for any proverb. - -The romance of a lady’s own woman is centred in her mistress. She -will clothe her in finery with a greater joy than if she were draping -herself; rather than see her go shabby she would wear sackcloth; she -will hang over the banisters, on a dinner-party night, to observe the -sit of her train as she sweeps downstairs on the arm of some notable -personage; she will lean out of the window to watch her step into her -sedan, and if there are Beaux hovering and my Lady tosses her plumes -and whisks her panniers to proper advantage it is Abigail’s heart that -beats high with pride. - -Even Miss Lydia Pounce, own woman to my Lady Kilcroney, a damsel -remarkable from her earliest youth for her tart and contradictious -ways, who was verging on elderliness now with the acidity and leanness -peculiar to the “born old maid,” would have laid down her life to -ensure that my Lady’s court gown should fit her trim waist without a -wrinkle, or that the pink silk stocking that clothed her pretty leg was -drawn to its proper skin-tight limit. - -(Both the Incomparable Kitty and her Lydia were exceedingly particular -that these same stockings should never be worn with the gross -slovenliness that permitted a sag. Not indeed that anything but the -merest glimpse of slender, arched feet, like the “little mice” of an -earlier poet’s fancy, peeping in and out from under the flutter and -foam of lace and silken flounce, was ever displayed to the vulgar eye; -but to know these niceties complete in the smallest and most delicate -detail was necessary to the comfort of any self-respecting Woman. And -on this point Lydia was in thorough sympathy with her mistress, as upon -all others connected with the elegance and _bon ton_ of the most modish -of Mayfair belles; of that leader of Fashion, Feeling and Style which -the Lady Kilcroney undoubtedly was.) - -If Woman be a heroine to her lady’s maid, in what light does she appear -to her Milliner? - -Here we come upon debatable ground. At first sight it would seem -that the milliner, being dependent upon her customers for her very -existence, it must follow that whatever her private opinion may be with -regard to their appearance and taste, she can have but one burning -desire: to please her patronesses. There is nevertheless another side -to the question. - -What Woman of intelligence but does not realise that a Mode may make -or mar her? How much may hang on the droop of a feather; the tilt -of a hat-brim; the glow of a rose in cunning juxtaposition with the -soft carmine of a blushing cheek? Blue eyes may flash into sudden -significance under a knot of azure ribbon, that had before languished -their tenderest in vain. Saucy innocence may triumph beneath a -shepherdess wreath; or tired charms kindle into new brilliancy -stimulated by the consciousness of the perfect inspiration. In fine, -all that life holds best is at the mercy of the mantua maker where -the Lady of Fashion is concerned. Let but a clever business woman -grasp this great and awful truth; and she who combines the brain -that can devise, the taste that never fails, the acumen that knows -no hesitation, the finger that is at once light and firm, unerring -and ethereal, becomes to her employers a treasure beyond the mines of -Golconda! - -Such a treasure did Miss Pamela Pounce, with whom these pages are -concerned, prove herself to the noted Madame Mirabel of Bond Street. -And such an influence, far-reaching and subtle, did she exercise on the -lives of the _Elégantes_ who consulted her, with the eager submission -and reverence of the believing Greek for his Oracles, though with far -other and comfortably practical results! - -Miss Pamela Pounce, Goddess of Modes, was _ipso facto_ Goddess of the -Machine of Life, deciding, with a lucky toss of ribbons or hitherto -undreamt of combination of fallals, the fate of her fair customers, and -incidentally that of their Beaux, their lovers and their husbands; my -Lady Kilcroney and her lazy, jolly life-loving Lord; dark-browed Susan -Verney, who would fain have bent the whole world to her sway as she -did her weary Baron; Lady Anne, her sister, still fondly, foolishly in -love with her stalwart, countrified Squire, Philip Day; their young -sister, the last of the fair Vereker Ladies and the naughtiest, with -her tangled love-stories; Mr. Stafford, the once famous Beau, proud of -the startling beauty of his excellent, dull, childish wife, and anxious -that she should flaunt it _à la mode_ with the best of them; Sir -Jasper Standish, the sporting Baronet, who, bereaved of his exquisite, -clinging Julia, found himself entangled beyond belief with Miss Pamela -Pounce’s ribbons; the noted young actress, Miss Falcon, known as “Fair -Fatality,” whose brief life drama was more tragic than any she had -enacted for the benefit of the public; the plain Miss Vibart, who found -beauty and love and happiness all in a Pounce bandbox; Mistress Molly -Lafone, own sister--who would believe it?--to the pearl of ingenuous -womanhood, Prue Stafford, Molly Lafone that minx, whom the members of -my Lady Kilcroney’s coterie were so unanimously leagued to suppress -and exclude, and who, in spite of their efforts contrived to insinuate -herself disastrously into all their combinations (was it not under a -wreath twisted by Pamela’s long clever fingers that this elegant little -adventuress came to her most deserved catastrophe?)--there was not one -of them but came under her wand! - -But at the same time the arbiter of the fate of others, in the shape of -a very human young woman, guided the shuttle of her own destiny, and -wove a remarkably pretty design for herself. - -Milliners, unlike Oracles and Sybils, have each their personal human -span with its joys and fears, pleasures, pains and triumphs. Pamela’s -romance ran like a cherry-coloured thread through the warp and woof of -those other existences, so far above her, in which her profession had -involved her. To show the whole pattern, light and dark, sparkling and -deep-hued, flowered, dotted, arabesqued, of this brocade of earthly -life, the poor _Modiste_ must assume as important a place as that of -her clientele. - - - - -CHAPTER I - -HOW MY LADY KILCRONEY ENTERED INTO ROYAL SERVICE UNDER THE SHADOW OF -THE ITALIAN HAT TRIMMED BY MISS PAMELA POUNCE - - -While Miss Pamela Pounce was serving her third year as apprentice -to the great art of Hat Confectionery, under the ægis of no less a -personage than the world-famous Madame Eglantine of Paris--once “the -little French Milliner” of Bath--her aunt and benefactress, who had -placed her in these favourable circumstances, had begun to taste the -proudest triumph of her life. - -Miss Lydia Pounce was about to become own woman to a Court lady! -My Lady Kilcroney--to whom she had so faithfully and ruthlessly -devoted herself--from the days when, as the Widow Bellairs, she first -scintillated in the world of fashion, to her present position of -Viscountess--was chosen by Her Majesty, Queen Charlotte, to fill the -post of Lady-in-Waiting to her own Sacred Person. - -To enter Court circles had been the dream of Lydia’s angular and -ambitious breast. Her mistress’s gratified vanity was a trifling -emotion compared to the bursting satisfaction which this upward step on -the social ladder afforded the maid. It is not too much to say that she -regarded herself in the light of a Prime Minister who has successfully -brought about some great political event, and who is a far more -important person than the Sovereign whom he serves. - -It came to pass in this wise. - -His Most Gracious Majesty, King George III, had been ordered to -Cheltenham Spa for the waters by his physicians; his state of health -was causing anxiety, the extent of which was as yet quite unknown to -the bulk of his loyal subjects. Queen Charlotte, the most devoted of -spouses, of course determined to accompany him; and the Royal party -duly proceeded to the Spa. - -It happened to be Lady Flora Dare-Stamer’s term of attendance on Her -Majesty, and that stout estimable Lady-in-Waiting happened to be Lady -Kilcroney’s very close and dear friend. There was nothing remarkable, -perhaps, in the conjunction of these two happenings; but it was indeed -singular that Kitty Kilcroney should happen to discover a delicacy in -her son and heir which necessitated an instant visit to the celebrated -health resort now so vastly honoured. - -These events having succeeded each other, nothing more natural than -that my Lady Kilcroney should invite her “poor dear Flo” to a dish of -tea and a chat at her lodgings, to rest her of the fatigue consequent -upon her eminent but exhausting office. - -Though Lady Flora had made no secret to her intimates of her intention -to rid herself of her honours as soon as might be, who so surprised as -her dearest Kitty to learn that she now believed her emancipation at -hand? - -“To tell you the truth, my dear,” said Lady Flo, chewing a macaroon, -“it’s not a job that suits me in the least. ’Twould fit you vastly -better.” - -“O, Lady Flo!” cried Kitty in accents of amazement. “What a strange -thought! I vow and declare such an idea never crossed my mind. And, in -truth, ’tis rank impossible. There are a hundred reasons, a thousand -reasons, why I am the last person likely to be selected by Her Majesty. -I am too young.” - -“Upon my word,” said her companion bluntly. “I doubt if there’s so -much between us, my dear, were it not that I have run to fat. These -macaroons are excellent. ’Tis like your genius to be so well served in -lodgings. You’ve brought the best of your staff with you, I make no -doubt.” - -“And, O, my love! the difficulty of housing them! There’s scarce a -tradesman in the town that hath not a servant of mine.” - -Kitty spoke with the careless self-importance of the wealthy woman. And -Lady Florence approved. - -“How right of you, my love, to insist on Comfort!” Comfort was the -first and last of her aspirations. “Aye, I will have a little more -cream. This whipped stuff--I dare swear ’tis your idea to have it so -lavishly flavoured with the vanilla; vastly delicate. Your chocolate is -as incomparable as your agreeable self! But yours are not the years of -giddiness. I speak in all friendship, I beg you to believe.” - -Kitty murmured in an absent voice, that she had married her -first--worthy Bellairs--a mere child, practically out of the nursery. - -“Anyhow, my sweet Kilcroney, no woman who has had two husbands can deny -a certain amount of experience, and upon rep,” with a rolling laugh, “I -don’t care who knows that I’m on the wrong side of thirty! You must be -pretty well advanced on the right side of it?” - -“If you can call twenty-eight----” - -“Admit to twenty-eight, by all means!--nevertheless, ’tis an age of -discretion. And Her Majesty----” - -“I understand----” said Kitty, balancing her teaspoon on the rim of -her handleless cup with a musing air--she wondered in her soul if the -excellent Lady Flo could really be taken in by this pretence; if it -were possible she did not guess that she, Kitty Kilcroney, was longing, -grilling to step into her Court shoes--as if she cared who knew that -she was over thirty her last birthday, and warming but to riper beauty -as the months slipped by! - -“’Tis not,” she said aloud, with a pout, “that I would decline a post -about our gracious Queen, if ’twere offered me, God forbid! I am too -loyal a subject. But I understand the German woman, that frumpish -creature, the Keeper of the Robes--what’s her barbarous name?--hath the -royal ear, and will not suffer anything young or comely, if she can -help it, about Her Majesty--(And there’s one for you, my Lady Flo, with -your right and your wrong side of thirty!) ’Tis a vast of pity you will -not continue to occupy a position so honourable and so becoming to you.” - -“To tell you the truth,” said Lady Flora unmoved, helping herself to -another macaroon, “’tis the standing that undoes your poor friend! -Conceive it, my love, full fourteen stone, and on my feet hours -every day. Hours did I say? Centuries. Look hither!” She thrust out -a large sandalled foot, which certainly had a plethoric appearance. -“’Tis swollen beyond belief. I acknowledge my stoutness. I made but -little count of it, for I’ve been a prodigious comfortable woman -along of it. ’Tis a cushioned life. It pads the mind as it were. I -assure you, I believe myself to have been, only some three months -ago, the most good-tempered woman in England. And now! ’Pon rep, I am -growing peevish! Fie upon it--stout and peevish! Was there ever such a -combination?” - -As if to contradict her own statement she again gave way to her jolly -laugh. Kitty, watching her through long eyelashes, sighed. - -“But what can induce you to think of me, my Lady Flo? Poor little -retiring me?” - -“Pray my dear, do not play the Molly Lafone with me!” - -Molly Lafone! Such a comparison was too comic! Kitty laughed, and -dropped her not very successful mask. - -“Upon my word, then, I believe it would suit me! But how can it be -accomplished? I am not one to push myself forward. My Lord Kilcroney -is an Irishman and no courtier, and their Majesties have their own -favourites; and indeed to begin with, I doubt whether you will find it -so easy to resign.” - -“Resign, Kitty! Resign? No, dear Kilcroney, I am on the point of being -graciously dismissed. It took some management, but I was desperate. -Another month of this, I said, and Mr. Stamer will be able to look -out for a new wife--which he would do, my dear love, across my very -coffin--’twas yesterday sennight then, I made up my mind. I took my -best rose-point flounce--by the mercy of heaven it was just returned -from the lace-menders, neatly packed in tissue tied with ribbon and a -scent bag within, as elegant a parcel as you could wish to see!--and I -sought Mrs. Schwellenberg--aye, that same!--and says I, ‘For mercy’s -sake, give me a chair. My poor feet will scarce support me?’ At which -she looks as sour as a crab, and quoth she: ‘We all have veet, Lady -Florence’ (you know her vile accent), ‘but we forget dem in our great -honour and brivilege,’ ‘Would God I could forget mine,’ thinks I. But -she glances at the parcel in my hand: ‘Take a zeat,’ she says with a -roll of her old eye. ‘Ah, my good Frau,’ says I to myself, ‘you may -look, but you shan’t clutch yet a bit!’” - -Lady Florence laughed reminiscently, and Kitty screamed: - -“Never tell me you gave the old Dutch villain your rose-point flounce!” - -“And what would be the good of a rose-point flounce to me, when I -should be dropped dead in the Queen’s apartment, like any hackney -jade? My love, I showed that ancient toad my two feet--and I vow toad -is a good name for her, for she hath the countenance and the croak of -her own pet frogs--I showed her my feet, and I lamented my stones of -weight. ’Pon rep! I gave myself sixteen, I did indeed, and what with -the swelling, I looked ’em! ‘Let me confide in you,’ I cries, ‘if -ever I saw a truly noble soul writ on a human brow, ’tis on yours! My -frame,’ I cries, ‘is not equal to my devotion. My ankles will not -support the loyalty of my heart! ’tis not that I should grudge passing -away in such service,’ I cries, turning up my eyes--You could not have -done it better, Kitty!--‘but were I to faint in those sacred precincts, -were I to pass away in that august Presence, Her Majesty would be -justly annoyed. Dr. Jebb has warned me. Alas! look at me. Am I not -fat?’ ‘Vat you are,’ says she, ‘but so am I.’ Well, then, my love, I -gave her a peep of the lace, and she began to dribble at the corners of -her mouth, and I knew the trick was done! ‘If I speak to Her Majesty,’ -says she, and she fingering my rose-point, ‘I vonder vot substitute I -could suggest. Her Majesty she does not like the changes, and----’ And -then, I thought of you, Kitty.” - -“I wonder why, in the name of Heaven!” cried this lady tartly. - -“Your feet won’t swell, my love.” - -“I need not accept,” quoth Kitty, pinching her lips. - -“Kitty, if you play your cards well, the post will be offered to you -while their Majesties are here at Cheltenham. ’Tis all settled with the -Schwellenberg. Do you not know,” said Lady Florence, pushing the dish -with a single remaining macaroon upon it, virtuously from her, “that -Susan Verney is making all the interest in the world for the honour? -But she was rude to the Schwellenberg one day--you know poor Susan’s -way!--when they met in my drawing-room at Queen’s Lodge, and the -Schwellenberg will have none of her!” - -“Say no more!” cried Kitty, and fires shot from her eyes. - -“My love, I believe I have served you,” said Lady Florence, replying -to the eloquence of that glance. “‘My royals are not bartial to the -Irish,’ said Schwellenberg. ‘Ah, but Madam,’ I says. ‘My Lady Kilcroney -is not Irish. She is true-born English, and has vast wealth--widow of -an Indian Nabob--vast wealth and a generous heart!--And you admire the -lace, Madam?’ says I, ‘in the very truth I was hoping I might venture -to offer it to you, for ’tis lace that should be worn at court, Madam, -and in no other place--and as I mentioned to you, my Lady Kilcroney and -her Lord have practically severed all ties with Ireland. If you would -accept the flounce, Madam, on my retirement (I think there is a narrow -edging of rose-point to match).’ ‘I will tink of what you say about my -Lady Kilcroney,’ croaks she. Am I not a good friend, Kitty?” - -She looked at Kitty with such beaming kindness that all this latter’s -caprices vanished; she cast herself affectionately on Lady Florence’s -huge bosom and voted that she was indeed the best and dearest! - - * * * * * - -It was agreed between them before the large and jovial lady left the -pleasant apartments overlooking the meadows, that she would call early -next morning, and report the result of Mrs. Schwellenberg’s “tinking,” -since she had been given to understand that Her Majesty would deliver -her gracious dismissal that evening, during the process of the Royal -disrobing. - -“You must hold yourself ready, my sweet child, to be at any point -considered suitable along Her Majesty’s path during the next few days. -By the looks Her Majesty casts on me I am convinced Schwellenberg has -kept her word, and prepared the ground ’ere we left Queen’s Lodge. -Well, she knew she would not get the rose-point otherwise.” - -Kitty stood reflecting in the bow-window long after Lady Florence’s -chairmen had reeled away with their burden towards Lord Fauconberg’s -small house on the hill, which had been placed at their Majesties’ -disposal. It could not be said that she had quite so altogether -consuming a desire for the post of Lady-in-Waiting since hearing Lady -Florence’s talk and gazing on those swollen feet, but, rather than that -Susan Verney--dark, overbearing Susan!--should have the advantage, -Kitty would have stood on burning ploughshares. She had, thank Heaven, -as good health as any lady in the kingdom, a back that was never tired, -and a fund of humour and good humour that made her equal to most -trials. Moreover she had a fighting spirit, and, she flattered herself, -a charm of her own. If she did not get the better of Schwellenberg on -the one hand, and ingratiate herself with Royalty on the other, then -she was no longer Incomparable Bellairs! - -Her agreeable reflections were broken in upon by the entrance of my -Lord Kilcroney. - -Now, hot-blooded, red-headed Irishman as he was, it was the rarest -thing in the world for this nobleman to be seriously out of temper with -anyone, let alone with the wife of his bosom; but, as he flung himself -into Kitty’s hired parlour, he was in as irate a mood as he had ever -indulged in, and that with his Lady. - -“Here’s a pretty business!” quoth he, and cast his hat on the table in -the middle of the room, very nearly dislodging the glass dome which -protected a gold filigree basket containing the most purple plums, -the reddest strawberries, the bluest grapes that ever artist in wax -produced. “Here’s a pretty to-do!” cried Denis Kilcroney. - -“There seems indeed to be a to-do!” retorted Kitty. She wheeled round -from the window. “But you will condescend to explain the cause perhaps, -my Lord?” - -“So I hear you’ve got a place about the court, me darling,” said Denis, -plunging into sarcasm, with a flushed countenance. “’Pon me soul, ’tis -the grand lady you’re going to be entirely! ’Tis the back seat your -husband will have to be taking. Glory be to God, what’s a husband? And -an Irish one into the bargain!” - -“Pray, my Lord,” cried Kitty, all eagerness. “Where have you heard the -news? For, as I’m a living woman, ’tis news to me.” - -“Ah! go on out of that.” My Lord was certainly very angry, and -more than usually Hibernian. “Didn’t that fat baggage come straight -out of these doors? Didn’t she put that full moon face of hers out -of the sedan window and bawl to her men to stop, and them with the -sweat dripping off them, God help them! And ‘oh,’ she calls, ‘My Lord -Kilcroney,’ she cries, ‘’tis quite settled,’ she says. ‘And your Kitty -to take my post about Her Majesty.’ Why, all Cheltenham could have -heard her.” - -“Tush!” Kitty’s peach-tinted countenance, agog with delight, fell. “Is -that all? Why----” she was about to expound to Denis with some firmness -the folly of giving way to passion over an event that was still in -the uncertain future, at the same time conveying to him her clear -intention to leave no stone unturned towards its accomplishment, when -her little black page appeared at the open door, grinning at the sounds -of dispute, and announced: “Mistress Lafone.” And if the sight of dusky -innocence amused was exasperating to my Lady, what can be said of the -feelings aroused by the smile of minxish artfulness? - -“Good heavens,” cried Kitty. “And what brings you to Cheltenham, if one -may ask?” - -“Good-morrow, my sweet Kilcroney.” - -This familiarity! - -“Good-morrow, Madam.” Kitty swept a curtsy to mark her distance, the -while my Lord kissed the creature’s hand, positively as if he liked -doing so, and him but out of such a tantrum as never was. - -“And what should bring me to Cheltenham--(no, my Lord, pray. I prefer -the little stool. I do indeed)--why should not poor little me be here -with the rest?” - -“Why, indeed?” growled Kilcroney. - -“And what has brought you, my Lady, if one may inquire?” - -“She thought little Denis looked pale!” cried my Lord, and gave a great -guffaw. - -“You may laugh, Madam,” said Kitty, as Mrs. Lafone tinkled delicately. -“There are feelings which only a mother can understand.” - -Mistress Lafone was childless. - -“One excuse will serve as well as another.” My Lord let himself fall -into a chair that creaked threateningly beneath his weight. - -“Oh, I seek for no excuse,” quoth Molly Lafone. Crouching on the low -stool, she had a singular air of astuteness, in spite of her fostered -childishness. “I never can understand why people should not tell the -truth.” She raised arch eyes towards my Lord, while Kitty sat with the -majesty of an Eastern idol, and had not as much as the quiver of an -eyelash. - -“I’m here to curry favour with royalty,” she laughed again sweetly, -“like the rest of us!” - -The brazenness of it! My Lord guffawed again. He certainly was in a -most unpleasant mood. - -“Huthen. I hope you’ll be as successful as my Lady there!” - -“Oh! My Lady Kilcroney!...” - -“Sure, isn’t it the surprise of her life.” Kilcroney once again waded -heavily in sarcasm. “She hadn’t as much as the faintest notion such -a thing could happen to her--had you, me Lady? She hadn’t as much as -opened her mouth for the plum”--it was perhaps the purple artifice on -the table that suggested the simile--“but didn’t it drop into it? It’s -going to be Lady-in-Waiting she is, in place of my Lady Flo----” - -“Oh! my Lord, say you so? Says he right, my dearest Lady Kilcroney? -’Tis the most splendid, the most monstrous delightful news I’ve heard -this long time. Oh!” cried Mrs. Lafone, clasping and wringing her hands -in an ecstasy. “May not your little Molly rejoice with you?” - -“You are vastly disinterested,” said Kitty. - -Mrs. Lafone gave her tinkling laugh. - -“Ah, my Lady--indeed, my Lord, I have said that I am frank. Dearest -Lady Kilcroney, I will be frank--If I could obtain some little -post--the teeniest, weeniest little post at court----” - -But Kitty interrupted, bouncing out of her stateliness. - -“Pray, Mrs. Lafone, for what post should you consider yourself -qualified about the august person of our gracious Queen?” - -“Oh! My Lady Kilcroney, the least little post in all the world! Hath -not the Queen appointed a plain Miss Burney reader? I believe I could -very well be reader. Mr. Lafone says I have a silver tone in my voice, -and our curate at home once told me----” - -“Tush, the celebrated Miss Burney hath qualifications, child, which you -in your foolishness fail to appreciate.” - -“Yet she is but a music teacher’s daughter, Madam,” said Molly with a -mighty sigh. She dropped her white eyelids and turned a green glint on -my Lord, and sighed again. “Or if not actually about her Majesty--who -am I, indeed, to aspire to that Presence?--some office about yourself, -dear Lady Kilcroney. I would be your secretary, your Lady-in-waiting, -your devoted attendant!” - -“This is folly,” cried Kitty. “I am by no means appointed to my Lady -Flo’s post, and if I were--well, to be frank with you, Lafone, since -you like frankness so much--you are the last person in the world I -should ever be instrumental in bringing to court. Heavens!” cried -Kitty, gazing upwards at the low ceiling, as if she saw through it -into the celestial regions. “What discretion, what faultless propriety -of conduct, what a delicate sense of responsibility, what a blameless -record should be demanded of one who would enter that sacred circle!...” - -(It was the glint of her visitor’s green eye at my Lord which gave this -stern decision to Kitty’s tones.) - -Here, quite unexpectedly, and with admirable effectiveness, large tears -rose in Mrs. Lafone’s eyes and rolled down her cheeks, without in the -least disturbing the prettiness of her pointed visage. My Lord cast a -glance from one to the other; it was lit with a tender sympathy as it -fell on this touching impersonation of grief, and kindled with reproach -as it shot to Kitty. - -Mrs. Lafone gave a small sob. - -“Your sweet lady,” she said, now audaciously addressing her male -champion, “has ever been a friend in need. ’Tis for that, that -I have ventured, my Lord, that I have ventured to come to her -to-day, hearing--yes! I will own it, I already knew that she was -like to be next in the Queen’s choice. I made the journey hither -in the hopes--’tis for no reason of petty vanity, no mere envious -ambition----” (Thus the minx) ... “oh! my Lord, I scarce know why, I -have ever been sadly persecuted. I am the victim of evil tongues!... My -reputation has been assailed....” - -“Ha!” said Kitty. The ejaculation leaped from her. - -Molly Lafone produced another silver sob. “Quite unfoundedly, -I do assure you! My conscience is spotless, my Lady Kilcroney, -spotless!”--she caught Kitty’s eye, and went on in a humble voice--“in -this instance! Indeed, my Lady--but Mr. Lafone--I am sadly maligned, -he is suspicious, he----” Here the unfortunate young woman became -quite incoherent in her demonstrations of distress. She wrung her -white hands with extra pathos. Another large tear flowed, and a volley -of little sobbing, disjointed phrases accompanied it, “domestic -happiness--ignorance of the world--poor little me, country-bred and -guileless--salvation or despair!” - -In the midst, Kitty rose, returning to majesty. - -“I must put a stop to a scene so useless and so painful. How is it -possible, Madam, you do not see that every word you utter but marks the -impossibility of your request? Pray, my Lord, see Mistress Lafone to -her chair.” - -“Kitty!” cried Kilcroney, springing to his feet. He had not thought it -of her, to requite these open-hearted confidences with insult; to turn -so trusting and touching a creature into the street; a lady--an old -friend! “Pray Mistress Lafone, let us be offering you a dish of tea,” -cried he. - -There are days when everything goes askew. Kitty’s great footman -marched into the room and presented his mistress with a letter which, -he said, had just been brought by a riding messenger. Kitty took it -from the salver with all the air of one glad of the diversion, but -no sooner had she perused it than she exclaimed, in tones of such -consternation, that my Lord leant forward and took it out of her hand. -He exclaimed in his turn, but in accents of pleasure. - -“Why, what is this? Sure, Alanna, there is naught here to upset you, -’tis the best of good fortune on the contrary! Here’s your sweet -friend, my Lady Mandeville, actually at Malvern and proposing to drive -over and spend the day with you to-morrow, bringing her little rogue to -play with ours.” - -“Oh, this is intolerable,” cried Kitty, “this is past bearing! Bid the -messenger wait. Good heavens, do I not hear him riding away?--Call him -back, my Lord, call him back! On no account must my Lady Mandeville be -permitted to visit me to-morrow.” - -My Lord stood rooted to the spot, and the veins on his forehead -swelled. Kitty rushed to the window and hailed vigorously; the rhythmic -footfalls of a horse receding at slow pace along the cobble stones was, -on a sudden, altered to the clatter of a returning trot. - -“Damnation!” cried my Lord. “This passes all!” - -Mistress Lafone had stopped the wringing of hands and the production of -tears, and was all malicious interest. - -Kilcroney had entered into a towering passion. He protested that it was -the most monstrous low thing, that he forbade my Lady to behave so base -to her friend. - -“Tare an’ ’ounds!” cried he, “if it wasn’t ashamed you were, and that, -not a minute ago, to be enjoying the finest hospitality in the world, -the kindest, the most open-hearted, ’tis not ashamed you should be to -return a thrifle of it! Shame!” ejaculated Denis. “Shame! ’tis on the -other leg. Gad, ’tis the shameful bit of meanness you’d be practising -and ’tis ashamed I am of you meself (that I should live to say it). -Your best friend! And all for what? For what if ye please? For the -favour of them that never as much as acknowledged your existence. ’Pon -me soul, rather than wound the feelings of that angel upon earth, that -fair, fond, gentle, noble creature----” My Lord’s voice cracked. “I’d -see the whole of Windsor, and Kew to boot, tumble into the Liffey.” - -Kitty, white under her delicate smears of rouge, sat down at her -writing-table with the most sublime air of offended virtue, but the -hand that dipped the pen into the ink shook, and there were tears in -the voice which presently declared that if ever there was woman here -maligned by her own husband, it was my Lady Kilcroney: she who had not -liked to disturb her Lord, but who had nevertheless noticed a red spot -behind their darling little Denis’s ear that very morning; which spot, -as every one who was a mother knew, might very well betoken no less -a malady than the measles, which malady, being highly infectious to -young children, she, as a mother, now felt it her duty to put off her -cherished Lady Mandeville and the adored little Impington to a more -auspicious day. - -“Spot!” interrupted my Lord, with a roar between derision and wrath, and - -“Spot?” cooed Mistress Lafone, now letting herself go openly to -insolence. “My dearest Lady Kilcroney, you are too droll!” - -There was contempt written on the countenances of the pair so odiously -conjoined against Kitty; neither of them being subtle enough to see -that my Lady was content with any excuse, so long as it flung a veil of -elegance over her set purpose. - -This incomparable woman recovered herself, rose, summoned Pompey, and -sent him forth with her letter to my Lord Mandeville’s groom. She -watched its delivery, through the window, and having beheld the man -start off again, returned to the centre of the room, made in silence a -profound curtsy, which included her Lord and her visitor, and sailed -forth, closing the door carefully behind her. - -My Lord let himself fall again into the arm-chair, and once more this -article of furniture protested with ominous creaks and cracks. - -“There’s not a stick in the place, bejabers, that isn’t as rotten as -pears. ’Pon my word,” grumbled Denis Kilcroney, “I wish the plaguey -waters had never been discovered, I do indeed; ’tis a poor thing when -a man’s own son and heir is made a weapon against him, and him but -turned of three. ‘Little Denis is pale, and we must to Cheltenham. And -we’ll lie at Lady Mandeville’s, which is on our way, my love’ (and -it thirty miles out, taking the back and the forth of it). ‘And our -little Denis will have a playfellow, ’twill be so vastly good for him. -Little Impington and he will be comrades.’ And scarce are we settled -at Impington Court with as good entertainment--aye--and as generous -(’tis the cellar of the world my Lord Mandeville has, and ’tis as free -with it he is--troth, as I’d be meself if my Lady’d let me, and I can -give him no finer character!) No sooner are we settled, and scarce a -cork drawn ye may say, but ’tis ‘Little Impington is too rough for our -darling Denis. He will teach him ill ways, he will do him a hurt. And -Impington Court is a thought too low for the child’s health. And we -must move on to Cheltenham, my love, or there will not be a lodging to -be had.’ And you should have seen the farewells, the clingings, the -embracings, and the tears, and heard the promises. ‘We shall meet again -soon, my dearest, dearest Rachel. I vow I’ll not be parted from the -most cherished of my friends!’ And now ’tis: ‘Keep away--little Denis -hath a spot!’ To be sure, our dearest Rachel must not cast a blight -over my Lady’s Court prospects.” - -“But why, pray you, why, my Lord Kilcroney, should my Lady Mandeville -cast a blight? Is she not in the Court favour?” - -Mistress Molly’s tones were as insinuating as the fillet of sweetness -that issues from a flute; nevertheless, Denis, starting from his black -mood, gave her a sudden odd look. - -“Prithee, why, my Lord?” - -Kitty was in the right of it. The little jade was as false as loaded -dice! As if every one did not know poor Rachel’s story; how she had -been a Quaker and an actress, and my Lord Mandeville’s mistress before -she had been his wife; and how, save for that one stain, which, indeed, -had been the fall of a pure woman piteously and devotedly in love, she -had ever shone in a wicked world, the noblest example to her sex. - -Mistress Lafone caught my Lord’s look upon her and deemed it time to -depart. Without waiting, therefore, for his reply to her question, she -feigned horror at the lateness of the hour, and bustled away from the -Kilcroney lodgings, malcontent with her visit, the more so that my Lord -Kilcroney brought a wooden countenance and a dry manner to the very -hall door. - -She went forth down the single street and across the meadows; for her -rooms were in an out-of-the-way cottage, far from the fashionable -quarter patronised by the well-to-do. Mrs. Lafone’s fortunes were -indeed at a low ebb. Her elderly, niggardly husband had vowed some time -ago that he would pay no more debts for her, and he was keeping his -vow. In her efforts at self-extrication, Mistress Molly, not having -a scrupulous delicacy of conduct, had become further considerably -entangled. A scandal threatened which might be the undoing of her. And -there was my Lady Kilcroney not only declining to help her, but as good -as turning her out of the house! - -Molly Lafone was sharp of scent as a weasel. It was unpleasantly clear -to her that the irate great lady was determined to seize the first -opportunity of cutting her altogether; and when my Lady Kilcroney, -leader of society as she was, cast her off, she would be lost indeed! -She had no thought in her breast, as she walked along the road between -the flat fields, but the longing to pay Kitty out. - -The way was deserted. Evening shadows were lengthening across the -mellowness of the sun-steeped plain. Molly Lafone slackened her pace. -Why, indeed, should she hurry back to the stuffy little room where she -could afford herself no better supper than bread and milk? - -Truly, if there are angels who reward the virtuous, there must be -little demons who provide dainties for those who serve the ways of -evil! There, just at her feet, shining quite golden in the rays of the -setting sun, lay a letter. - -It lay so that its superscription was visible, and Molly could hardly -believe her eyes when she read in Kitty’s writing the words: “For the -hand of my Lady, the Countess Mandeville.” - -“The careless fellow,” said she, “he’s dropped it from his belt as he -jogged along. Pshaw, how I hate a clumsy fool!” - -Then she laughed shrilly. “My Lady Mandeville will never get her -Kitty’s affectionate answer, nor hear how little Denis hath a spot, and -she will come driving in to-morrow to hang herself and her tarnished -name round Kitty’s neck for all Cheltenham to see, under the nose of -the virtuous Queen Charlotte. That is very well done!” cried Molly. -“That is a very fit punishment for such base intentions. I am very -glad.” - -And lest anyone should be busybody enough to pick up the dropped letter -and forward it to its destination, which would be a sad interference -with the just action of Providence, Mistress Lafone picked it up -herself and minced it into small pieces as she walked along towards her -cottage lodging. She had quite a good appetite for her bread and milk -that night. - - * * * * * - -It had been my Lady Kilcroney’s intention to keep her cherished little -Denis in his cot, for the space of at least a day, for indeed there was -more than one red mark on the satin of his small, plump body, and Kitty -vowed it was of a piece with the rest of my Lord’s brutality to declare -that those who leave their own homes for the discomforts of lodgings -must expect the occasional flea. But on receipt of a letter sent round -by my Lady Flora’s woman, she promptly altered her plans, and ordered -the protesting cherub to be arrayed in his best robe-coat covered with -fine muslin, and his white satin hat with feathers. - -My Lord, as soon as his infant’s roars had been soothed by candies, -picked up the letter which Kitty had dropped on the floor in her -hurried exit to her bed-chamber; and, while his Lady was alternately -pealing at her bell and shouting for Lydia, without compunction read it. - - “_My Dearest Lady Kilcroney: ’Tis all arranged. I consider my freedom - well purchased at the price of the rose-point flounce, and the - service to a friend, no less, by the trimmings to match. Her Majesty - received me in her closet last evening, and the matter was settled - quick. I must confess, dearest Kitty, with all the_ veneration _and_ - love (these words were heavily underlined) _that I cherish for her - August Person, I did feel it hard to find that my poor feet were - represented as the dropsy. Dropsy, my love. And I but turned of - thirty! ‘You should have warned me,’ said Her Majesty, ‘that you were - suffering from a disease.’ ‘Ma’am,’ said I, ‘if disease there is’--(I - was afraid to deny it, dear Kitty, lest the fetters should not be - struck off my aching ankles)--‘’twas contracted in Your Majesty’s - service.’ And now if my Kilcroney has a taste for gilded slavery - (though there’s less gilding than you would believe), let her be at - the entrance of the pump room, to receive Her Majesty at the head - of the other lady visitors, on her first visit thither this very - morning at eleven o’clock. The Gentlemen-in-Waiting are informing the - other notabilities of the town, and Her Majesty is prepared for the - little ceremony which she desires shall have the appearance of an - Impromptu, it being her wish to avoid state during the Royal Visit - and not to be incommoded by the crowd. If your little Denis were to - offer a bunch of roses, it would, I think, please the Queen, who - likes to see ladies occupied of their children and is interested in - any who are about the age of the Princess Amelia. From what Mrs. - Schwellenberg--oh! Kitty, to think of that toad festooned about with - my lace--hath wrote to me (thank God we have left the_ frog-fancier - _behind at Windsor) I understand you can consider the appointment as - good as made----_” - -The letter dropped from Kilcroney’s hand. His good-natured face (for -in spite of tantrums he was to the core a man of good nature), clouded -with genuine dismay. It looked as if the plaguey business, which he had -regarded in the light of a mere game, was like to turn to earnest. - -Why, in the name of Heaven, a woman with all the world could give her, -and a devoted husband besides, should break up her family life for the -pleasures of an annual three months’ slavery--Lady Florence had well -named it--passed his comprehension. - -“Nay, Lydia,” Kitty’s voice was uplifted in the other room, “take back -the tabby; aye, and the satin cloak from Madame Mirabel’s. I have -thought better of it, child. Put away the Eglantine new hat with the -feathers. I will wear muslin and a plain straw. I wish to Heaven,” -cried Kitty pettishly, “that there was a milliner in the Kingdom who -could run up a hat to suit a lady’s eyelashes or the tilt of her nose -outside Paris.” - -“There’s the Italian straw we bought last time we was staying over -there at Madame the Duchess’s,” said Lydia tentatively; “the same your -ladyship ordered for yourself to wear at the _Feet_ at Trianon to which -the French Queen asked us--and a sweet elegant creature Her Majesty is, -with all her fancies for dairies and such--and the thunderstorm coming -on it was the disappointment of the world, and one that I am not like -to forget in a hurry! Sure your ladyship ain’t forgotten it? A plain -rice straw, with a ribbon round, but with a set to it! Aye, and trimmed -by my blood-niece, as is apprenticed to Madame Eglantine out of my own -poor savings; me being always one to stand by my family, cost what it -do.” - -“The Italian straw,” my Lady reflected; “’twas monstrous thoughtful of -you, child, to pack it--la, Lydia, ’tis the very thing--trimmed by your -niece did you say? Nay, only the genius of Eglantine could twist a bow -like that. Put it on my head. Why, ’tis perfect--aye, I will wear it. -Her Majesty desires simplicity.” - -“Simplicity, is it?” Kilcroney groaned. “God help us all!” - -As Kitty sallied forth, all in vapoury white, fresh and sweet as a -privet blossom, her face delicately pink under the artful shepherdess -hat, Pompey following with the great rose-bunch in a bandbox, and -little Denis trotting alongside scarlet-cheeked from a triumphant -battle royal over the wearing of gloves, my Lord looked after them with -some melancholy. - -“I’ll stroll along presently and keep in the background. I’d not like -to be blighting Kitty’s prospects after the fashion of yonder poor -Rachel. By all accounts Her gracious Majesty Queen Charlotte is no more -like to fancy an Irishman than the unhappy girl that has a mistake to -her name.” - -Kitty had determined to walk to the pump room. ’Twas scarce a hundred -yards away, and “squeeze those crisp flounces into a chair before they -had served their purpose--never!” She had taken but a few steps along -the street when who should cross her but Mrs. Lafone. Molly, all in the -modesty of lilac dimity, with pensiveness, something even approaching -penitence, on her pert face. Kitty was in a fair humour, and as her -little enemy flung her a deprecating glance of green eyes, actually -paused and smiled. - -“Whither away, Lafone?” - -“Alas, my Lady Kilcroney, stepping into the pump room anon to drink my -glass of the waters, I heard as how Her Majesty was expected, and how -you and the other ladies of note are to receive her on this, her first -appearance.... My Lady Kilcroney, knowing myself so unfit, feeling -myself so out of spirits, I deemed it more becoming to retire till all -was over.” - -Now Kitty, riding on the top of the wave, was a trifle intoxicated. It -was in a tone of almost Royal patronage that she exclaimed: - -“Why should you miss the sight, child? You could very well find a -little place where you could see and not be seen. Retrace your steps -with me.” - -“Oh! My Lady Kilcroney,” cries Molly, with her dramatic clasp of the -hands, “was there ever anyone so truly benevolent as you are!” - -Hanging her head, the little minx started off, a humble step behind her -patroness, and, looking over his shoulder at her, Denis the younger was -fascinated by the wicked mockery on her face, and nearly fell into a -puddle for staring. - -There was no excitement in the town, for Her Majesty’s intention was -known but to the favoured few. The Royal Family, it was bruited, were -still reposing from the fatigues of their journey. There was, however, -a small group of gentlemen about the pump room doors, in elegant -morning attire, and two or three barouches and as many chairs were in -the very act of depositing their fair burdens as Lady Kilcroney sailed -up. She was just in time, indeed, to see Lady Verney--black-browed -Susan, panting, flushed, incredibly plumed--hurl herself out of her -hired sedan. At sight of Kitty this personage halted in her rush -forward into the pump room. - -“You here, dear Kilcroney?” her voice shook. There was fury in her eye. - -“Even so, dear Verney. Pray, my Lord Courtown, shall I take my stand on -this spot? Hither with the flowers, Pompey. My little son is to offer -these to Her Majesty, Colonel Digby; certainly ’twould be a mercy if -you would have the kindness to hold them till the right moment comes. -Such tender years are scarcely to be trusted!--Nay, Denis, lambkin, no -more sugar plums till we get home again, or little pandies would be so -sticky, Denis couldn’t give the nosegay to the beautiful Queen--What -a pity, my dearest Susan, you should have made yourself so fine. By -Her Majesty’s most express wish, all is to have the appearance of the -simplest impromptu! Still, my skirts are fairly wide. If you place -yourself behind me----” - -Place herself behind Kitty! Had her beloved friend run mad, she that -was always so flighty? My Lady Verney to place herself in the rear, be -hidden by another’s flounces, she who had posted day and night, all the -way from Hertfordshire, upon the news of a probable vacancy about the -Queen’s person! Was it possible that Kitty, with her Irish husband, -labelled with such a name, could fancy that she was like to meet with -the Queen’s favour? Susan was sorry for her poor friend. She tossed her -head with a snort. My Lady Verney had something of the appearance of a -handsome horse. - -But stupefaction succeeded indignation when Lord Courtown, very civilly -addressing her, begged her to take her place with the other ladies in -the rear of my Lady Kilcroney, for the royal party might be expected -any moment. - -“Mrs. Tracy, ma’am, as one conversant in these matters, will you stand -at my Lady’s elbow?--My Lady Kilcroney, Mrs. Tracy--Her Majesty’s -Senior Bedchamber Woman, who is at the waters on her own account.” - -My Lady Verney, biting her lip, stamped heavily on her neighbour’s -foot as she shifted her position. Turning at the low cry, her fierce -black eyes met the plaintive green ones of Mrs. Lafone, who in spite -of her discreet protestations, had taken as forward a place in the -group as well she could. As a rule Molly was in no better favour with -Susan Verney than with the rest of the coterie, but at that moment they -shared a sentiment which made them suddenly and momentarily sympathetic. - -“Oh, my Lady Verney,” whispered Molly, “did you ever see anyone so -sadly cocked up as our poor Kitty? It frightens me for her, it does -indeed. I fear such pride must have a fall.” - -Although Susan could see no sign of this prognostication being -fulfilled, it comforted her nevertheless; and she was able to bear, -with a better equanimity than any who knew her would have thought -possible, the painful spectacle of my Lady Kilcroney’s success with the -Queen. Success it indubitably was, though Her Majesty was a dry woman -and not given to displays of affability. It was evident that she had -come prepared to be pleased with Kitty Kilcroney and that pleased she -found herself. And truly, Kitty in her snowy flounces, so charmingly -blushing under her wide-brimmed hat--which was indeed trimmed by -Lydia’s niece, Miss Pamela Pounce--Kitty so daintily maternal with the -sturdy little boy clutching his roses, was as pretty a picture as any -would wish to gaze upon. - -The two blooming Princesses exclaimed upon the darling child, and -good-natured Lady Flo was one broad beam behind “her Royals’” back. -And if Kitty blushed she had nevertheless the most elegant ease. Her -curtsy was a model; the dignified modesty with which she advanced and -then retreated within the due measure of etiquette was perfect of its -kind. And when the incident took place, which might indeed have proved -awkward, of Master Denis declining to part with his posy, his mother -saved the situation. “Denis,” quoth she, bending but not whispering; -all with a modest assurance that could not have been bettered by one -who had been years at Court. “Lambkin, do you not remember what I bid -you? To whom were you to offer these flowers?” - -“To the beautiful Queen,” said the child, his great brown eyes roaming -about as if he were seeking--as well he might, poor innocent!--whom the -description might fit. The Queen, with a flattered smile, herself took -the offering from his chubby fingers. - -“Pretty rogue!” said Princess Augusta. - -When the other introductions had been gone through it seemed to be -nobody’s business to present Mistress Lafone; and though the equerries -looked tentatively at her and then at my Lady Kilcroney, nothing could -be less responsive than that usually alert being. So Molly made an -artless curtsy as became her simplicity, and thought, in her disloyal -heart, how frumpish and dowdy Her Majesty looked; and wondered if ’twas -Miss Burney who appeared so shortsighted and awkward and timid, with -no more air than nothing at all. And save for the gentlemen, who were -very personable and had bright looks about them as if they might be -enjoyable company to a woman of spirit, there was really naught in this -vision of the Court which would make her, little Molly, yearn for it--a -vast stiffness and dullness indeed! If it had not been that needs -must when the devil drives she would have snapped her slender fingers -and ‘thank you,’ but as matters stood--the drowning do not pause to -contemplate the quality of the spar flung to them. - -Mrs. Lafone looked vindictively at Kitty and then turned a watchful -glance at the door. She wondered how soon and in what circumstances -Kitty’s dearest friend, who was not received at Court, might make her -appearance? However Kitty might strive to hide the visit, Mrs. Lafone -would take care that it should be known of; she had but to whisper the -fact to my Lady Verney and she did not doubt that the Royal occupants -of Fauconberg Hall would promptly be in possession of the damning fact. -Other people could put spokes in wheels besides my Lady Kilcroney; and -the more swiftly they were rolling to favour, the greater might be the -upset! - -Her Majesty, talking very affably to Kitty, had advanced towards the -counter where the waters were distributed. Here divers magnates of -the town were awaiting her, whom the Comptroller of the Household, my -Lord Courtown, named to her, one after the other. Kitty and her group -of ladies were left thus for the moment outside the Royal circle of -attention. The hall by this time contained a certain amount of curious -spectators, very respectfully aligned against the walls, for the public -of Cheltenham, genteel quiet folk, would have died rather than presume -on Her Majesty’s condescending informality. - -“Pray,” said the Queen, to Mr. Clark, the town doctor, “let me have a -taste of the water, sir, to drink which the King has been sent hither. -I ought at least to know,” she added archly, “to what penance he hath -been condemned.” - -She sipped and declared she had expected worse; Princess Royal and -Princess Augustus also sipped, but they cried out and protested that -they were sorry for dear papa. And while the Royal pleasantries were -producing the most exquisite if refined mirth throughout the whole -assembly, Mrs. Lafone, who had been conscious that she was the object -of considerable interest to one of the equerries (indeed, he was -lifting his quizzing glass to mark his notice), perceived his glance -wander from herself and become fixed. He dropped his quizzing glass, -the better to see; a warmth of wondering admiration, prodigiously -different from the familiar ogle she had herself evoked, wrote itself -on his countenance. But for the presence of Royalty, she thought he -might have exclaimed out loud. Molly’s glance promptly followed his. -She could hardly believe her eyes. Here was fate playing her game with -a vengeance. Her enemy was delivered into her hands. Everyone knew the -face of Rachel Peace! - -My Lady Mandeville advanced, clad, like Kitty herself, in white, but -with a flutter of grey ribbons here and there to mark her Quaker -preference. Her delicate pale face was faintly flushed, under the wide -brim of her simple hat. She was not less fair than the pearls at her -throat, not less shining in delicate beauty. She held by the hand a -noble boy, slightly older than little Denis, who marched as if the -place belonged to him and gazed about under frowning brows as though he -wondered who dared occupy it without his permission. - -If Kitty made a charming picture with her little son, Rachel, with the -heir of Mandeville, graceful and gracious, with a lovely tenderness -emanating from her, was the very embodiment of sweet motherhood. - -She came across the wide hall with swift step, looking from right to -left, a smile hovering on her lips, her seeking eyes already lit with -fond pleasure. Where was her dear Kitty? Suddenly she stopped--the -smile faded, the light of the expectant gaze went out, shadow fell -upon her radiance, a flutter as of fear shook her; yet she had but -encountered the gaze of my Lady Verney. Susan Verney, who was very well -acquainted with Rachel Mandeville, who had indeed also tasted of her -hospitality, both in town and in the country, now withered her with a -blasting stare of denegration, a stare which said: “My Lady Mandeville, -I am pure virtue to-day, _I do not know you_.” - -The room was all eyes to look at Rachel, and though so decorous it was -all whispers. - -The next moment the poor thing saw the Queen and the Princesses, and -Kitty Kilcroney white as death and good Lady Flora scarlet in the face; -she saw and understood. Motionless she strove to rally her courage. She -wanted strength of heart and clearness of mind to do just what would be -right; Quaker Rachel who had never done wrong but once! And for that -breathless moment, unknown to herself, her eyes hung on Kitty’s face; -and Kitty’s eyelids were cast down. - -The little Viscount Impington tugged at her hand. His was an impatient -spirit. - -“Come on, Mamma,” cried he, in loud authority; and at the same moment -little Denis O’Hara raised a piping cry: “Imp, Imp, Imp!” and tearing -himself from the maternal clasp, galloped across the room to hurl -himself upon his baby comrade. - -The Queen looked at Kitty with an air of profound surprise and -disapproval, and Kitty looked back at the Queen. And her heart rose -within her; for, with all her foibles and fancies, she had a heart. - -It led her then to do the noblest act of her whole existence. - -Holding herself very erect and moving with a beautiful dignity, she -slowly backed the length of the room that divided her from Rachel -Mandeville; and, keeping her eyes on the Royal face the while, she took -her friend by the hand. Then she stood very upright and waited. Rachel -could do naught else but wait too. - -In the dead silence the Queen prepared to take her departure. - -Little Mr. O’Hara and my Lord Impington were beginning to show signs of -following up their affectionate greeting with a rough-and-tumble fight -and each mother had to take possession of her child and keep him firmly -held; but they kept tighter hold of each other still. - -The Royal group advanced; the kindly young Princesses with awed looks, -as if they felt how ill things were going without understanding. When -she reached my Lady Kilcroney and her friend, Queen Charlotte paused -and seemed to hesitate. She cast a strange troubled glance at the two -young women, and Kitty and Rachel fell, still clasping hands, into a -great curtsy. And the question was, which of the two made it with a -nobler grace. - -The last of the equerries to follow looked back at the door, and saw my -Ladies Mandeville and Kilcroney embracing and kissing and he thought -they were both in tears. - -My Lord Kilcroney had been among those who unobtrusively joined -the lookers-on in the pump room during the Royal visitation, and, -beholding the scene, his own eyes filled. In the effort to regain his -self-control he turned his dimmed gaze away from the two who enfolded -each other in such affecting and unaffected friendship and it fell upon -Mistress Lafone. As awhile ago his son and heir, he was fascinated -by the expression on the small pale visage. Molly caught his riveted -glance, wilted beneath it, and somehow vanished. Not my Lord Kilcroney -nor anyone could ever as much as guess at her share in the morning’s -business; yet so does conscience make cowards of us all, as Mr. -Shakespeare has it. - -My Lord kissed his wife’s hand before most respectfully saluting that -of my Lady Mandeville. At sight of him, Kitty mingled laughter with her -tears. - -“Is it not delightful, Denis,” cried she, “that our sweet Rachel should -have had this happy thought? But, oh, my dear love, our little rascals -are at fisticuffs again!” - - “_My dear Kitty_,” wrote Lady Florence that evening, in a letter - brought round from Fauconberg Hall by one of the pages in waiting, - “_I thought you were dished, I did indeed. And of all the odd - tiresome_ contretemps, _my love!... Well, I have not time to say even - a word of what I felt: Her Majesty is not fond of audacities and you - did, dearest Kitty, the most audacious deed.... Well, never mind - again!_ - - “_’Twas your hat did the trick to begin with, my love; you was always - so clever about clothes, Kitty. Sure, it was the finest inspiration - to wear that modest country straw with its plain ribbon. It caught - Her Majesty’s eye from the first moment, and that you know means so - much. So modest, sensible and quiet you showed beside poor Susan! - Susan, with that tow-row of feathers on her head! ’Tis she who is - dished after all: ‘A loud young woman,’ says the Queen to me. ‘I do - not approve of Lady Verney’s style.’ And what must she do on the - top of it but present herself in my parlour at Fauconberg Hall this - very afternoon?--a vast piece of presumption, since the Queen hath - forbidden visitors to all and sundry!--And wants an interview of - Her Majesty, to apologise--prithee, Kitty, think of it!--for Her - Majesty’s having been exposed to such a meeting. She, to apologise - for the town! She, to cast her stone at poor Rachel! I have never - known my Royal so angry! ‘Are you then not acquainted with my Lady - Mandeville?’ She asks our Verney. You should have seen Susan’s face - under her red plumes. (I had taken good care Her Majesty should - know we_ all _were.) To be brief, Kitty, Verney went forth with her - comb considerably cut, and Her Majesty took a twist in the other - direction and spoke very kind to me; though regretting the incident, - she said she could not find too grave a fault with a display of - loyalty. ‘Tell my Lady Kilcroney,’ she says, ‘that about My Person I - appreciate loyalty!_’” - -Denis Kilcroney heard the contents of this missive with a grave -countenance. Then, looking at his wife’s charming face, all irradiated -between the joys of her good conscience and its unexpected reward, he -exclaimed generously that it was a proud day for the House of O’Hara. -“Though,” he added, “the proudest moment of it all was when I saw you -stand by your friend, me darling girl!” - - - - -CHAPTER II - -IN WHICH MISS PAMELA POUNCE IS ORDERED TO PACK - - -Pamela Pounce sat with a bunch of cowslips in one hand and the lid of -the ribbon box in the other; she had fallen into a profound muse. - -It was the cowslips, though they were but artifice, which had set her -active brain thus suddenly and idly day-dreaming. They had brought her -back with a rush to the old farm where she had been born and brought -up. The whole surroundings of her exile had vanished. She was no -longer in the big, bare, stuffy, untidy workroom at the back of Madame -Eglantine’s celebrated Paris hat shop: in the centre of snippets and -straws, feathers, fringes, flowers and other fashionable fripperies; -under the glare of the skylight; with the patter and gabble of French -voices, the click of scissors, the long-drawn sighs or quick pants of -energetic stitching, the rustle of crumpled silks, in her ears, and in -her nostrils the indescribable atmosphere of the _atélier_, as it was -called. An apartment hermetically sealed to the outer airs, save what -might penetrate of them through the opening of its doors; redolent -of the gums of artificial flowers, of last year’s and this morning’s -succulent cookery--Monsieur Ildefonse, the husband of Madame Eglantine, -liked a point of garlic in most dishes--and of the faint sickly scents -of hair powder and fine lady’s perfumes which hung about the whole -establishment. There were other odours in the workroom besides, of -which the less said the better. It was little wonder that Pamela -Pounce should now and again feel her splendid vitality slacken; that -she should have considerably fined down from a country buxomness since -she had joined Madame Eglantine’s staff. - -But the bunch of cowslips had brought her away--far away from it all -for a blissful moment. - -She was back again at home. The exquisite freshness of an early summer -morning on the Kentish downs encompassed her. Her young bosom lifted -with ecstasy. Oh! the breath of England: pungent of the sea, sweet of -the moorland herbs, free from the hills and whispering of the woods, -was there ever anything like it? There was a fragrance of breadmaking -too from mother’s oven, and a lovely reek of burning weeds where father -was busy over the potato fields! - -Pamela started. A voice, sharp as a pen-knife, had recalled her to -reality. - -“Ah, Meess”--she went by no other name in this French servitude, either -from her employer or her sister workers. It was an unconscious tribute -to a certain fine apartness of character, as well as to her British -independence. “Ah, Meess,” cried Madame Eglantine, “is this how I find -you? Asleep with your eyes open! My faith, is this how you conduct -yourself in the thick of the business hours? And the Marquise who -expects that hat by noon!” - -Pamela opened her day-dreaming eyes full upon the speaker, gave an -inaudible sigh and a small ironic smile. She did not start or blush or -show any sign either of flurry or vexation at the acrid accent of the -rebuke, she was too completely mistress of herself for that. Her hand -hovered over the ribbon box; then with a decisive movement she nipped a -shimmering purple roll and began to draw out its darkly radiant lengths. - -“Purple!” ejaculated Madame Eglantine, surprised into a quite amiable -tone; “purple for that blonde Marquise who is not yet twenty! And she -means to wear all white muslins with lace in floods. Did I not tell -you so? That ribbon I bought for _Madame la Gouvernante_--it is for -dowagers----” - -She broke off and stared. - -Pamela had twisted and snipped and pinched and the hat was trimmed in -what her famous _patronne_ herself would have described as “_un tour -de main_.” She now held it up on her balled hand, and turned it slowly -from side to side. - -“But it is a stroke of genius!” exclaimed the little Frenchwoman. She -hated Pamela, but she was above all an artist. “No, no, do not touch -it again, no one must touch it! You have a thousand times reason. Blue -or green or pink--anyone with the ordinary mind would have blended me -the banal pretty-pretty with those cowslips. The Marquise would have -been but one of a score of shepherdesses, no more distinguished than a -dragée box for a baptism! But now----” - -She paused and waved her hands before the delight of the mental -picture. A small, dusky woman with very bright eyes and extraordinarily -swift movements, she was like some quick furry animal of the mouse -tribe; a greater contrast to the fair, large, composed English girl -could hardly be imagined; yet on one point these two were singularly -akin. Both were geniuses in the same restricted yet fascinating realm -of art. - -If there were a creature on earth capable of stepping straight off into -the shoes of Madame Eglantine, first milliner in the world of Fashion, -it was Pamela Pounce, the British yeoman’s daughter! - -Perhaps it was this consciousness of her rival’s merits which made the -Frenchwoman, while too acute of intellect not to recognise them, regard -her clever apprentice with feelings which approached detestation. Yet -she was soon to find another cause. - -“I’d better put in the stitches myself, I suppose, M’dame?” said Pamela -tranquilly. She spoke French fluently by this time, with a pronounced -if not unpleasing British accentuation. “The young ladies are so fond -of sewing things to death. It’s like a hand on pastry,” she went on -meditatively, as she bit her thread, and flung a cool, tantalising -glance at the irate ring of countenances about her. “You have, or you -haven’t got it, and no one to blame.” - -“That will do, Meess. There is too much conversation here, Mademoiselle -Panache!” Madame hopped spitefully from Pamela upon the directress, -who, sitting large, square and sallow at the centre table, dispensing -materials, had permitted herself a gratified smile over the snubbing -of the English girl. For a moment or two there was silence in the -over-lighted, under-ventilated apartment. The season was early July; -a blazing white sunshine was pouring down through the casements which -their muffed glass but feebly mitigated. - -Then the little angry, sharp-toothed mouse that was the bland, coaxing, -fluent Eglantine of the showroom found a fresh grievance. - -“My God, Mademoiselle Anatoline, are you making a bouquet or tying -bristles on a broomstick? And Heaven pardon me, Mademoiselle Eulalie, -but if those hands of yours have been washed since--since---- What have -you been doing with those hands, _ma fille_? Blacking the boots or -scratching your head?” - -Anatoline, who was large and fat and fair, became an apoplectic purple; -and Eulalie, who was the colour of a lemon with hair like a raven’s -wing, turned a shade more livid than nature had made her. - -There was a titter, beginning sycophantically upon the lips of -Mademoiselle Panache. But Pamela’s smooth face, white where it was -not delicately carnation, might have been that of a handsomely tinted -statue. She cut her thread, tweaked one of the shimmering purple loops, -and once again putting the hat on her clenched hand, gave it a little -shake. The creation was complete! - -Madame’s swift beady eye rolled in her direction. - -“Give yourself the trouble to bring that upstairs to the showroom, -Meess,” she ordered. “Madame D’Aimargues said she would call, herself, -before midday, to try it on before it was sent. I will join you -presently and you had better remain, in case there were required an -alteration.” - -“_Bien, M’dame_,” Pamela responded with some alacrity. She might get a -whiff of good open air as she went up the stairs. There might even be a -window ajar in the showroom. Such a miracle had been known to occur on -a very hot day. - -Monsieur Ildefonse, Eglantine’s husband, was sitting in the little -glass cage off the back showroom, pompously referred to as the -_Bureau_. This individual had once been a very noted personality; -no other, actually, than the French Queen’s appointed coiffeur; in -consequence sought after to frenzy by every woman with the smallest -pretension to Fashion. Fine ladies had had their heads dressed at -six o’clock in the morning, nay, even three days before some special -assembly at Court. - -To be able to say, with a toss of flying vaporous curls, exquisitely -redolent of _Poudre à la Maréchale_: “In effect, my dear one, -Ildefonse’s last idea, what do you think of it? It is succeeded. -_Hein?_” To be responded to, perchance, with a cry of envy and -despair: “Ildefonse! You managed to get Ildefonse!” And to know your -interlocutor, younger than you perhaps, and prettier, yet altogether at -a disadvantage, “a positive frump, my dear,” under less skilful hands, -that had been to reach, in verity, the very needle-peak of feminine -triumph, a few years ago. - -But star succeeds to star; one Monsieur Charles was Court twiddler, -curler, crimper, frizzer, and general head artist. For Monsieur -Ildefonse had come into a heritage and retired. Not a fallen star, -therefore; merely astronomically removed to another hemisphere! He -shone now, though, it may be added, with a doubtful radiance, in a -restricted connubial circle; in other words, he sat at home and totted -up accounts for his clever, money-making spouse; made bargains for -her with flower manufacturers and mercers, and bullied the stewards of -great houses when Madame la Duchesse or Madame la Connétable forgot to -remember such insignificances as the settlement of bills. - -Unanimously the workgirls adored him, with the single exception of -Pamela; and the relations between Madame Eglantine and her consort, -characterised in public by the most touching demonstrativeness, were -regarded as the very romance of matrimony. But Pamela, who had come -under the glance, more often than she cared, of Monsieur Ildefonse’s -slyly roving eye, had her private opinion. - -She shuddered from him as she had shuddered from the fat, sleek, brown -slugs that came out after rain on the garden walls at home. - -As a little girl she would explain: “’Tain’t that I’m afraid, you see, -but it makes me creep.” - -She could have found no better words in which to describe the effect -upon her of the fascinating Monsieur Ildefonse. - -There was a midday lull, this scorching day, even in Madame Eglantine’s -thriving establishment. It was late season, too, and save for orders -like that of the little Marquise D’Aimargues, for such as were -privileged to join in the pastimes of Royal haymaking and churning, -or a stray wedding order, business was slack, and the great little -milliner herself was preparing for that round of the most noted -watering places, with “just a few models” in her baggage, which was her -thrifty fashion of spending the holidays. - -Pamela cast, in passing, a hasty glance between the green curtains -of the _Bureau_, to assure herself that her pet aversion was safely -employed. - -He had removed his wig on account of the heat, and she turned her -eyes quickly away from the revolting spectacle of his close-cropped -bristling black head and the roll of olive fat at the back of his neck -above the embroidered collar of his blue cloth coat. - -The pink, be-padded, be-wreathed, be-gilded, be-mirrored, be-draped -salons of Madame Eglantine were empty. Pamela walked slowly into the -middle of the front room and hesitated. Her own charming shape was -reflected from every possible angle. Down below, the whole _Place_ -seemed asleep; a buzz of flies within and without, a lazy footfall on -the shady side and a distant rumble emphasised the universal drowsiness. - -When Madame la Marquise’s coach came along there would be a prodigious -clatter to wake them all up. Pamela knew that she was quite safe. It’s -all very well to trim a hat. You never know what it’s like till you’ve -tried it on. - -Very deliberately she divested her glossy chestnut hair of its discreet -cap, loosened the swelling waves a trifle more on either side of the -firm rose-tinted ivory of her face. - -“If a dash of powder was for poor girls like me, I wouldn’t be too -bad-looking. I’d say that for myself,” she thought, and firmly set the -hat of the Marquise at the right angle over her radiant brow. - -Well, it was a complete success. Like every true artist she was doubly -critical of herself, but Pamela had to admit that she could find no -flaw in her own taste and that the wide-brimmed curving Italian straw -with its bold sweep of purple ribbon, and its hanging bunches of -cowslips was a remarkably fine set-off for the glory of her amber hair -and the audacious brilliance of her complexion. Without a tinge of envy -or discontent she surveyed herself thoughtfully. - -“Upon my word, Pamela Pounce, my girl!”--she was fond of addressing -herself mentally; as it were her strong reasonable mind to her -agreeable body. “You would have held your own with the best of them if -it had been the fancy of Providence to set you in the aristocracy. Ugh!” - -With a piercing scream she started out of her complacent reflection. - -A horrible olive-hued, leering face appeared over her shoulder in the -mirror; a blue-clothed arm stole round her waist. - -Pamela swung herself free, whisked the hat off her head ready to use it -as a weapon should Monsieur Ildefonse pursue his advances. - -In the dead pause the quick rustle of Madame Eglantine’s light summer -flounces were heard on the stairs. - -Instantly the ex-hairdresser’s countenance lost its satyr smiles, and -became composed into its usual mask of smooth propriety. - -“Is that you, _mon Agneau rose_?” he cooed. - -“Yes, yes, it is I, _petit rat de mon cœur_,” she replied. - -These endearments having perfunctorily passed between them, Madame -halted on the threshold and sent the glitter of her swift glance from -her spouse to her apprentice. - -“I took the liberty of trying on the hat what I’ve just trimmed, -M’dame,” said Pamela then in her brazen way. - -She wasn’t going to put it into Monsieur Ildefonse’s power to tell on -her behind her back, or worse still, to pretend to be shielding her. -She knew his slimy ways. - -“You do well to call it a liberty,” said Madame Ildefonse, showing -all her small pointed teeth as if she wanted to bite Pamela. She was -panting a little, and there was a sort of whiteness about her nostrils -that pointed to considerable if repressed emotion. “But let it pass. -You were giving your opinion, I presume, my cabbage-stalk?” - -“Meess very naturally wished me to admire your exquisite taste, _ma -tendre biche_,” he responded. “‘No one,’ says she to me, ‘but Madame -Eglantine could have made this inimitable, this absolutely original and -distinguished combination, all the while retaining the stamp of the -most high tone.’” - -Monsieur Ildefonse was very glib of tongue. - -“A-ah!” said Madame, smiling horribly. “You and Meess flatter me in -your private conversations.” - -“My charmer, how can I console myself in your absence, except by----” -he broke off, for at that moment, with sounds of pomp, a thunder of -hoofs, a crash and a clatter, the street woke up indeed, as Miss Pounce -had prognosticated. And Madame D’Aimargues drove up in her four-horsed -coach. - -Madame Eglantine cast off her rage, as one may divest oneself of a -garment, to be re-assumed at the chosen moment; Monsieur Ildefonse, -with a relieved shrug of his huge shoulders, began to retire, -cat-footed, to his den. - -“Remain as you are, Meess,” commanded the milliner, now entirely -concentrated on the exigencies of her business. - -She shook out her flounces and summoning the bland business smile to -her features cast a swift glance at the nearest mirror before taking -two steps to greet her valuable patroness. - -It was that glance at the mirror which precipitated the catastrophe. -By some counter-reflection, Madame Eglantine’s jealous eyes caught a -vision of Ildefonse, her husband, her cabbage, the little rat of her -heart, pausing in his turn to cast a final ogle upon the abandoned, the -sly, the seductive, the shameless Meess! - -Eglantine beheld that ogle. She swallowed her emotion. She was above -all _femme d’affaires_. Everything must give way before the profit of -the moment. She could wait. - -The little Marquise, blonde and slim and rouged, ethereal yet vivid, -fluttered in, fanning herself, tried on her hat, chattered, laughed, -approved, exclaimed upon the heat, and, still fanning herself, -departed, leaving on Pamela’s mind the impression of a glittering -butterfly, as lovely, as useless, and as impalpable. You could crush -her, thought the girl, between finger and thumb. - -Her serious lambent gaze had hardly followed the radiant apparition to -the door, when the explosion burst forth. - -It was all the more devastating for having been withheld. - -Wanton! Hussy! Baggage! Designing intriguing slut! _Meess de Malheur!_ -What was Pamela, after all, but a stray apprentice, and an English one -at that, flung upon her, Madame Eglantine’s, benevolence for the sake -of old friendship, living on charity, a _beggar_! _Cette Lydie_, how -she had haggled! But if such wickedness had been paid for in all the -gold of false Albion, Madame Eglantine would not have kept her, to the -destruction of her domestic happiness! - -“Meess, you pack this day.” - -She further added a flood of vituperation, to which Pamela, all her -pretty carnations dead on her white cheeks, listened in a fixed silence. - -When the Frenchwoman had run herself out of breath on a high scream, -Pamela answered her in English, which the whilom Bath milliner spoke -brokenly, but understood perfectly. “That’ll do, M’dame. I’m as pleased -to get out of this place as ever you can be to see the back of me. As -for that fat husband of yours, I wouldn’t touch him with a pair of -tongs. And as for yourself, I’d not remain a moment longer than I can -help with one as doesn’t know the meaning of truth, and would take an -honest girl’s character away out of pure spite and malice. And don’t -you dare,” pursued Pamela, with a swelling voice, “say anything against -my character, or as sure as there is justice in Heaven, I’ll bring your -business about your ears. I’ll tell that old cat, my Aunt Lydia, what’s -happened, that you caught your horrid old Ildefonse ogling me in the -glass, and that you haven’t that trust in him--and sure, I’m with you -there, for he ain’t fit to be trusted the length of your apron, and -so I tell you fair--you haven’t that trust in him that you could have -another moment of peace with me under your roof. God help you; I don’t -blame you! Give me the price of my ticket home, and I’ll see Aunt don’t -get at you over the indenture.” - - * * * * * - -For all her courage, for all the longing which the thought of England -brought her, the heart of Pamela Pounce was heavy as lead. She knew -that, at the Kentish farm, things were going badly with the yeoman; she -knew that she dared not add the burden of her penniless self to that -which rested on his shoulders. She knew that odious as it would be, -that abominably as her relative would abuse of the situation, there -would be nothing for it, but to throw herself again on her Aunt Lydia’s -family feeling, as soon as the Dover coach landed her in London town. - -Her aunt was now with her mistress in Hertford Street, back from the -Wells, according to the latest reports, and that was one bit of luck; -another was, that judging by the tone of the letter just received by -Madame Eglantine with an order for hats, my Lady Kilcroney’s maid was -in the highest exultation over her mistress’s royal promotion. - - - - -CHAPTER III - -IN WHICH MISS PAMELA POUNCE, THE MILLINER’S ASSISTANT, BECOMES ARBITER -OF LIFE AND DEATH IN HIGH SOCIETY - - - “_Pray Mrs. Tabbishaw_,” wrote my Lady Kilcroney’s woman to the - Mantua maker in Cheapside, “_send Pamela along with those white - feathers of her ladyship’s, which you has, this ever so long, to be - died blew, yours obleeged_, - - “_Lydia Pounce_.” - -Now the fact of Pamela being Lydia’s niece did not endear her to that -maturing damsel, “which,” she was fond of remarking to any beholding -them together, “do seem prodigious absurd, seeing as how there’s scarce -a year or two betwixt us.” - -But if Miss Lydia was not fond of displaying herself in public with a -fine strapping young woman of twenty-three who had an inconsiderate -way of dropping out “Aunt” at every second word (“which, reely, my -dear, I vow she does a’ purpose”--and perhaps indeed she did), my Lady -Kilcroney’s indispensable Abigail, as she never omitted informing all -and sundry, had a remarkable sense of family feeling. She had placed -the inconvenient niece with the matchless Eglantine. With such a start -in life she considered the girl’s fortune made; and if Paris were to -become the stable abode of so much bloom and bumptiousness, she, for -one, would continue to bear the separation with fortitude. - -When, after two or three years’ absence, however, Pamela reappeared -on the scene, extraordinarily Frenchified, unconscionably beautified, -and quite unpardonably wideawake, having quarrelled to the death with -Madame Eglantine, and possessing, to boot, only the clothes on her back -and the price of her ticket, Miss Lydia Pounce was very justly annoyed. -It was quite impossible to send the girl home, since bankruptcy -threatened the Kentish farm. Once again Lydia’s fine conception of -family obligation came to the fore. There was Mrs. Tabbishaw, at -whose second-rate establishment in Cheapside the elder Miss Pounce -had been in the habit of having such odd jobs done for her ladyship -as the dyeing and re-curling of feathers, the cleaning and mending of -unimportant laces, the quilting of winter petticoats. Mrs. Tabbishaw -owed her a good turn, and if she would now make room for Pamela, give -her board and just enough wage for her clothes, Lydia would see to it -that her mistress should go as far as to purchase an occasional hat. - -Pamela had no choice but to fall in with her aunt’s arrangements, for -had not Madame Eglantine sworn that she would give her no character? -(As if, indeed, it had been her fault that that odious Monsieur -Ildefonse should take to ogling her behind Madame’s back, and her -staring into the mirror!) She knew very well, however, that she was -sadly wasted at the poor, unmodish place; and, indeed, since Mrs. -Tabbishaw was too stupid to realise the treasure that had come her way, -the younger Miss Pounce was forthwith turned into a maid-of-all-work. -Her long, clever fingers were set to scrub and to cook, to pink or to -quilt, or to whatever odd job pressed the most. She was kept running to -and fro with parcels, and up and downstairs on messages. She was sent -galloping to shops and warehouses to match ribbons and velvets, and all -the while the wives and daughters of the city went on purchasing the -modes of the year before last, as interpreted by vulgar minds, while -spirit, delicacy, art, dash, millinery genius in fine, was actually -within their reach! Not that Pamela Pounce had any desire to adorn -them. Her aspirations flew very high. Some day she meant to be as great -in her line as Eglantine herself, to exercise her talents upon heads as -worth while as my Lady Kilcroney’s own. - -“You’re jealous of me, you cat!” It was thus she apostrophised the -worthy Aunt Lydia in the solitude of her bare attic chamber. “You’re -jealous of me. You know you’re an old maid and peevish, and I’m only -twenty-three and better-looking than you ever were in your life, with -twice your wits, though yours are as sharp as your elbows. You think -I’d take the shine out of you, you lemon-faced thing! You know I’d -toss up a bit of lace and feather for your ladyship’s boudoir cap, and -that her ladyship would nigh faint with the ecstasy of it when she -saw herself in the glass. And a sweet pretty creature she is--the one -glimpse I ever had of her, and that through the door, you mean thing! -Ah, give me a chance, and I swear the sedans and the carriages would -be blocking the streets to get at me. But not if you can help it, old -Miss Pounce! You’re to be the only important Miss Pounce in this world; -that’s your little game! But ’tis not for nothing I’ve got it all in -me!” - -And hugging her knees as she sat on her bed--the chair being too -rickety to bear her fine proportions--Miss Pounce the younger would map -out her future in glorious processions of feathers and head-dresses, -hats and bonnets, wreaths and _négligés_. - -Through all the hardships, the dreary daily grind, the unkindness and -the unremitting exertions, her star shone upon her with a light that -never wavered. The first winter was a trying one, and Pamela found -London, after Paris, a cruel, ugly place; a cruel cold one, and a -cruel hard one. When the summer came, existence might be easier, but -the hours were longer with the daylight, and there were nights when -even Pamela’s high heart gave way, and she would drop on her pallet -bed almost too exhausted to sleep. She had grown thin, and there was -a certain fierceness in the fire of her bright grey eyes, as if they -looked on all humanity as an enemy, by that July 16th, 1789, when my -Lady Kilcroney’s woman wrote for the “blew feathers.” - -“Oh, drat!” said Mrs. Tabbishaw. - -She was just sitting down to her dinner at three o’clock in the -afternoon of a torrid day. The reek of roast duck and sage and onions -was succulently in the air, and there was a tankard of porter facing -and winking amber bubbles beside her plate already. - -“Drat!” Mrs. Tabbishaw took a gulp of the porter, and waddled to -the door to scream: “Those blue feathers, where the deuce were they -put? Pamela! Pamela! I say, where is that girl? My chest is wore out -screeching for her. Where’s Pamela, Miss Trotter, dear?” - -“Just a-setting down to bread-and-cheese in the scullery,” screamed a -thin voice from the counting-house. - -“Setting down! It’s like her impidence! Send for her this moment, Miss -Trotter. Tell her she’s got to take my Lady Kilcroney’s blue feathers -to Hertford Street this very minute. Tell her it’s pressing, Miss -Trotter. And stay, look out my lady’s bill, which Miss Pounce promised -me to have settled this while back, and it twelve pound odd. Tell the -chit to ask her aunt for it. I’m none too fond of letting fine ladies’ -bills run up, and it all for odds and ends that are scarce worth my -doing. And, hark ye, tell her she’ll have to hurry back too, with that -pinking to finish to-night for Mrs. Alderman Gruntle’s cradle, and her -eleventh due any time.” - - * * * * * - -“For mercy’s sake, Aunt Lydia,” said Pamela Pounce, as much to that -damsel’s surprise and annoyance she was ushered in upon her by Pompey, -the black page. “Give me a bit of bread-and-butter, and a drink of -Bohea, for I declare to Heaven I’m starving. And I’ve brought you the -feathers. And they’re dyed a dreadful blue, I think; but once you give -anything over to Mrs. Tabbishaw you get the mark of her paw upon it, -and so I tell you.” - -“’Twould be well if she put the mark of her paw upon you, miss, for -your impidence. Bread-and-butter, quotha! And I’m sure ’tis a good -thing if you are a trifle fined down from the gross size you was when -you came back from Paris. ‘Dear me,’ says my lord’s new man to me, when -he caught sight of you, ‘that’s a prize one! She’d make ten of you,’ he -says; and him so genteel, I blushed to hear him.” - -“Oh, that fellow!” Pounce the younger tossed her head; “waylaying me -on the stairs to say I couldn’t be a Pounce, being so--well, so vastly -different from you, Aunt Lydia. And begging to see me home; as if I’d -let him--a valet, indeed!” - -“Upon my word!” Lydia’s faded, sallow, pretty countenance went a trifle -more sallow, and looked considerably less pretty. “Who’s to talk of -impidence, I’d like to know, and what do you expect, miss?” - -“Somebody considerably less like stripes and buttons. If I don’t get a -gentleman one day, Aunt----” - -“A gentleman? La, hear her!” - -“I’ll go single, like yourself.” - -Pamela’s full light grey eyes became abstracted. Anon, as she had -turned in at the area railings, a young gentleman had dashed by her up -the steps, and had set the knocker thundering against the panels of the -hall door. As she had looked up he had looked down at her; and then he -had smiled, and made a little gesture towards his hat, which if not the -courtesy he would have paid to one of his own class, was nevertheless -a genial, pleasant salute. She thought she had never seen so handsome -a countenance; come under the gaze of such flashing dark eyes. There -would be a lad for one who was lucky enough to be able to go in at the -front door! - -“And, indeed, miss----” - -Lydia wheeled round, and perceiving Pompey lingering, all one grin, -tweaked his wool. - -“How dare you, you little blackamore! What are you doing here?” - -“He’s waiting for orders to get me a cup of chocolate and a bit of -cake, aren’t you, Pompey?” cried the quite audacious Pamela. “I’m sure -my Lady’ll never miss it. And as soon as I’ve got it to give, I’ll give -you a crown-piece, Pompey.” - -She laughed on the little boy, and when Pamela Pounce laughed, she was -something to look on; for her wide, fresh mouth curled so deliciously, -and the corners of it went up so gaily, and she had such fine, white, -even teeth, and as the dimples came and went, she gained such adorable -little lines of fun about half-shut eyes, and the most engaging little -crinkle in her cocked nose! - -“La!” Mrs. Tabbishaw’s slavey cast herself into her aunt’s arm-chair, -untied the ribbons of her wide straw hat, and flung it on the table. -She ran her long fingers, surprisingly white in spite of their toil, -through the roughened curls of her chestnut hair, stretched her long -legs luxuriously, and contemplating the dust on her shabby shoes: -“Thought I should have dropped, I did,” she cried, “when I come into -Shepherd’s Market--three big feathers and two little ones, Aunt Lydia! -And, la! the blue! ’Tis the peacockest vile colour, I ever---- And -oh, here’s my Lady’s bill! And old Tabby must have it paid. She’s all -swears and spits and fur-flying about it, as it is. ‘Get your aunt to -pay,’ she says, ‘for her beggarly odds and ends that don’t bring an -honest body a bit of worth while,’ and oh!” she yawned outrageously, -“I’m to hurry back, no less, for Mrs. Alderman Gruntle’s eleventh is -waiting on my pinking.” - -“My lady’s account!” Lydia snatched the written sheet from her niece’s -hand: “Of all the--there, that’s what comes o’ dealing with them -second-class shops. Mrs. Tabbishaw thinks my Lady can be treated like -one of her City bodies, I declare.” - -“I’m not to go back without the money,” said Pamela. - -“Dear, to be sure! And my Lady so put about as never! What with her new -hat being such a failure, and her out of sorts too, over her gown for -the Birthday, she about to take up her first turn as Lady-in-Waiting -into the bargain--Court friends being that spiteful, and my Lord having -the ill luck at Whites, and Bellairs’ young nephew, Mr. Jocelyn, an -audacious, gaming, young rascal, if ever I see one, as set on the dice -as my Lord, and him but a beggar, so to speak. And my Lady paying his -passage back to India twice over, to my certain knowledge, and him -losing it on the green cloth within the hour! Well, my Lady’s done with -him, that’s one good thing. ’Tain’t the moment for Tabbishaw, and so I -tell you!” - -“Why, la!” Pamela had a graceful, lazy mockery in her eye and voice -which, however ill-placed in one of her humble station, somehow became -her. “My Lord must have been, indeed, uncommon out of luck, if my Lady -Kilcroney, her as every one knows is a-rolling in old Bellairs’ money, -can’t pay twelve sovereigns to a poor shop in the City. But give me -back the bill, Aunt, and I’ll tell Mrs. Tabbishaw she’s got to wait -till my Lord casts a better tot.” - -Lady Kilcroney’s maid gazed at her audacious relative as if deprived -of speech. Nevertheless, in all her wrath there was a certain grudging -admiration. - -“The girl’s as insolent as if she’d been born a lady!” - -The thought flashed across her mind as she whisked through the door -brandishing the account. On the threshold the power of language -returned to her. - -“As if twelve sovereigns wasn’t as many farthings to one of my Lady’s -wealth!” - -Here she nearly cannoned against Pompey with a tray, and bidding -him wait to be dealt with till his hands were empty of chocolate, -disappeared, objurgating, down the passage. - -Pamela was half-way through her second cup of chocolate, vastly -refreshed and comforted by it, and the agreeable little cakes which had -accompanied it, when her relative returned, with a red spot on either -cheek bone, her nostrils dilated over panting breaths. She had all the -air of one who emerges from a wrestle. The light of battle, was still -in her eye, but of battle victorious. - -“Here, miss,” she cried, “thirteen sovereigns to settle your Tabbishaw, -and milady says you can keep the change. Gave me all sorts, she did, -being, as who should know better than I, from early morning, my dear, -in as peevish a temper as ever was. And--and what she can do in that -way,” said Lydia, turning up her eyes, “you’d never believe if you -hadn’t seen, the world being made up of Diddumses. There wasn’t an item -along here she didn’t have her scratch at, and in the end, she says: -‘For Heaven’s sake stop talking!’ (That’s how poor servants is treated). - -“‘You’ll have me reeling in the head,’ she says. ‘Take thirteen -sovereigns from my purse, and get out of my room and don’t let me hear -another word of that there maddening bill!’ And so you can keep the -change, my love. And, if you’d believe it, just out of cussedness, -the young gentleman what’s annoyed her so prodigious has the boldness -to come knocking at our hall door and demanding urgent, through Mr. -Blandfoot, the butler, a few moments’ conversation with her ladyship. -My Lady having given orders that he was not to be admitted, the scamp -sends for the butler--well, that’s about dished him, I can tell you! - -“‘Tell him, Blandfoot,’ says my lady, ‘that I don’t give alms at the -door. Tell him,’ she says, ‘to go and earn his living. I don’t hold,’ -she says, ‘with able-bodied beggars!’” - -“Oh,” said Pamela, her thoughts flying back with compassion to the -dashing young gentleman on the doorstep, “what a cruel thing to say. -’Tis insulting misfortune.” - -“Insulting fiddlesticks! Here, hasten, you baggage, or you’ll lose your -good place, and I’ve had enough of you for one day, I can tell you -that.” - -“And what a darling, sweet auntie you are!” said the second Miss -Pounce, as she tied on her shepherdess hat with knowing little peeps at -the mirror. “’Tain’t any wonder I love you. Ta-ta.” - -She dropped the sovereigns into her worn reticule, kissed her hand from -the door in sarcastic farewell, and departed. - -With fourteen shillings and twopence to the good in her pocket, Pamela -felt a singular sense of independence. Instead of hurrying back into -the heat, crowd, and toil of Cheapside, she turned her steps towards -Hyde Park, the green boughs of which seemed to beckon to her from the -top of the street. - -“I’ll go and sit under the trees,” thought the girl. “An idea for a -hat has come into my mind, and I’ll work it out and let Mrs. Alderman -Gruntle and her cradle and the pinking go to the deuce.” - -She found a retired spot in the shade, and, the turf being dry and -inviting, stretched herself luxuriously at full length to stare upwards -at the odd little triangles and stars of blue sky visible through the -interlacing leaves above her. - -Composing her hat with the zest of a poet his verses, she lay at ease, -in great content, when she was startled by the sound of rapid footsteps -on the sward. - -She sat up and beheld a young man, a very fine and modish-looking young -gentleman indeed, who advanced with great strides, brought himself to a -sudden halt within the shady little dell, and casting swift looks from -side to side, as if to make sure he was not observed, flung his hat on -the ground and stood staring. - -Pamela, shielded from observation by a clump of bushes, watched with -a sudden and inexplicable feeling of apprehension, which grew as she -caught sight of a drawn countenance, deathly pale. - -“For sure,” thought she, “the poor gentleman’s desperate!” - -The next instant she sprang to her feet with a scream; he had drawn -a pistol from his breast pocket and, with an odd jerk, almost as if -forced by some malevolent power which he could not withstand, raised it -to his temple. - -Pamela was one of those rare beings in whom swift wits unite with swift -action. She hurled herself upon the would-be suicide and wrenched the -weapon from his hand. For a strange moment they stood facing each -other, eye into eye. It seemed to her as if the whole world held -nothing but those mad eyes of his, dilated, starting, haunted; the -pupils were contracting and expanding in the violet irises as with -some dreadful pulse of his heart. Suddenly his whole being relaxed; he -smiled. - -“Good heavens,” she cried, “’tis the young gentleman on the doorstep!” - -“And you,” said he, “are the young lady in the area. If the next -world’s as odd as this, ’twill be a vastly comic place.” - -“Oh!” cried Pamela, who did not at all like this reference to Eternity. -Still less did she like the manner in which he put out his hand towards -the pistol. - -“By your leave, my dear. My property, I believe?” - -She strove to avoid his grasp; she fought to keep the weapon in her -hand. “Why, what farce is this?” he exclaimed, laughing. “What do you -imagine, my good girl? May not an actor practise his greatest scene -without----? Why, what prodigious nonsense have you got into your -pretty head? The things’s not even loaded!” - -“Ah, but what did you say yourself just now?” - -She was a vigorous creature, and terror lent her strength. She remained -in possession of the dangerous implement. - -“What did I say? I merely tried the effect of my most telling speech -upon you--with fine result. If my public are as impressionable----” - -Once more he stretched out his hand, but, leaping from him, the girl -raised the pistol, aimed at the nearest bush, pulled the trigger, and -fired. - -As the reverberations died away she turned a face, drained of colour -but triumphant, upon him. - -“So much for your story, Mr. Actor!” cried she. - -“Why, you’re too quick for me!” he answered, with a moody change, -thrust his hands into his pockets, began to pace the dell backwards and -forwards before her, kicking his hat each time he passed it. - -She thought that he was no more than a boy, for all his manly growth, -and her heart went out to him. - -“Here, give me the pistol,” he said. “Tush, child, ’tis safe enough for -the moment. We’ll be having the park-keeper upon us to see who’s been -murdered. Let us look innocent.” - -“Oh, oh,” she shuddered, “if I had not been there!” - -“Nay, my dear, I’m in no mood to thank you, I protest. Yet ’tis -something to have had a vision of a pretty face and a kind, womanly -spirit at the last.” - -“There you go again! Sir, sir!” - -She surrendered the smoking pistol, and, as he slipped it into his -pocket: - -“Farewell, my dear,” said he. - -“Ah, no!” She clutched his arm by both hands. “You shall not go till -you have promised me--promised me on your honour as a gentleman to -spare yourself.” - -“I could do that, on my honour,” he answered her; “but that I will not -quibble before such true eyes. Nevertheless it is to spare myself -that I seek death. You bid me on my honour. ’Tis because I cannot live -dishonoured that I hold this pistol to my temples. ’Tis not that I -don’t love life as well as another man, or better. ’Fore Heaven, it is -because I have loved life too well. Had I as much as a guinea in my -pocket I would have defied Fate. When I stood on those steps and rapped -that knocker a while ago, I swear I had as little thought of blowing my -brains out as you had. When you and I smiled at each other I thought -this world a very good place, I do assure you. That woman in her fine -house yonder, rolling in luxury, with her lap dog and her chocolate and -her black page, her jewels and her laces, her silks and her satins; -all in her cushions; that woman, I say, who finds the Bellairs’ money -of so vast a use to spend, might have given me a ten-pound note out -of her store. When all’s said and done, I’m the only Bellairs left. -And, if but a nephew by marriage, nevertheless the last kin of her old -Nabob. Ten pounds I asked of her--that contemptible sum! And what did I -receive? The vilest insult, through the most insulting medium. Odds my -life, when I think of it----” - -He clenched his hands. - -Pamela stood, reflecting profoundly, one needle-marked finger to her -lip, her white brow drawn together under the shade of her hat. - -Ten pounds to save a man’s honour. It seemed indeed a strangely small -sum! As if he read her thought, he broke forth: - -“I dreamt last night, three times over, that I tossed a double six at -tric-trac, and ’tis the sixteenth of July and I am twenty-six. My Lord -Sanquhar promised to give me my revenge at the Six Bells at six of the -clock. ’Twas such a conjunction of luck as could not fail. I would -have won back my I.O.U.’s. I would have returned my Lady Kilcroney the -passage money to India. She wants to ship me to India, my dear, the -inconvenient poor relation. Ah, she need not fear. I shall beg from -her no more. What a farce it has all been! ’Tis time to put an end to -it. Bless you for your sweet looks, my pretty child. Think of me only -as one who, after life’s fitful fever, sleeps well. Aha! I shall sleep -better I dare say, than my Lady Kilcroney when she has read the letter -I sent to her anon!” - -“One moment, Mr. Bellairs, since that’s your name,” said Pamela Pounce, -with her wide, lovely smile. She dived into her reticule, and began to -gather the coins together with counting digits. “If you’ll condescend -to borrow of a person who goes in by the area gates, here are thirteen -sovereigns at your service. I’ve just had a long bill paid me. And, -oh,” cried Pamela, suddenly and unexpectedly bursting into tears, “I -wish they were three hundred!” - -“Gracious heavens!” said the young gentleman. - -“If you don’t take them I’ll never know another happy moment,” sobbed -Pamela. “Oh, how could I? Oh, sir, don’t say ‘No,’ because I am just a -poor girl.” - -“Nay then. I won’t say ‘No.’ Upon my soul, I don’t care if you go in at -the coal hole, you’ve the finest spirit and the prettiest face, ay, and -the warmest heart I’ve ever met in woman.” - -He held out his hand, and she put the money into it. He hesitated then, -and looked at her; and perhaps because of some warning that flashed -through her wet eyes, or perhaps because of some innate spring of good -breeding in him, he only kissed the hand that had been strong to save -him. - -“Pray, what o’clock is it?” He struck his waistcoat, where a black -ribbon made pretence for a missing watch. “My time piece has gone the -way of most of my possessions.” - -“’Tis past five,” she said, “by the shadows.” - -The country girl had not forgotten her lore. - -“Past five,” cried he, “and I due at the Six Bells! If you will move a -step, my dear, I will pick up my hat.” - -“Allow me, sir,” said she. “Hats are my business.” - -She lifted the felt from the grass, dusted it with her arm, pushed -out the dent where he had kicked it, and gave each corner a perfectly -unnecessary twist. - -“I’m in the millinery,” said she, as she handed it to him. - -“I thought there was something remarkably elegant about your headgear,” -he observed. “And pray oblige me with your address, that I may know -where to return my loan, for the conviction grows in me that I am -destined to win and to live.” - -She knew that sense of victory; it was akin to the conviction of her -own confident soul; but while she smiled she pondered. Then she said -demurely: - -“My name is Pamela Pounce, sir. If you will inquire for me, care of my -aunt, Miss Lydia Pounce, own woman to my Lady Kilcroney, ’twill be the -safest address.” - -He gave her a quaint look, bowed profoundly, and hurried away. - -“The safest address,” he murmured, as he went. “Ah, Pamela, you’re one -of the wise virgins!” - -Then he laughed. - -“Farce did I call it? And I set for the blackest tragedy! Nay, ’tis a -mighty delicate comedy, and we’re but at the first act of it.” - -Pamela stood gazing after the retreating figure. - -“Now,” said she to herself, “I have the choice of three roads. I must -go--to Bridewell, to the river, or to Aunt Lydia. It had better be to -Aunt Lydia.” - - * * * * * - -“Stripes and buttons,” who had not forgotten how the younger Miss -Pounce had snubbed him on their first meeting, informed her that she -might “hunt up the old girl for herself”; her ladyship having gone out -her ladyship’s woman, if not in her own apartment, might be found in -her ladyship’s chamber. - -And here indeed, with a not altogether comfortably beating heart, -Pamela confronted her aunt. - -Lydia stared, as if beholding a ghost. - -“La, whatever’s to do?” - -“The money’s gone,” said Pamela with great firmness. - -She had made up her mind from the first that nothing should induce -her to betray either the unfortunate young gentleman or her own rash -interference with his concerns. - -“Gone? Gone, miss?” - -Pamela opened her reticule and mutely took out from it a vinaigrette, -three pennies, a sixpence, and a pocket handkerchief, and showed the -remaining vacuum to Lydia’s horrified eyes. - -“But how in the name of goodness could such a thing happen?” - -“You lend me the money, aunt, and I’ll pay you back faithful, and I’ll -trim you all your hats for three years for nothing into the bargain.” - -But with an action of little bony hands which typified her patronymic, -Miss Pounce seized the reticule from her niece. She shook it, and -tested it; she held it up to the light, she pulled its lining out. Then -she tried the clasp, which fastened with a snap as uncompromising as -that which now closed her own tight jaws. - -Still, without speaking, she looked volumes at the milliner’s assistant. - -“I declare as I’m a living woman, aunt,” asseverated the sinner, “that -I have no more notion what’s become of the gold than you have yourself. -And all I can tell you is”--her courage rose with the sense of this -perfect adherence to the truth--“that as I left this house it was -jingling in that bag, and when last I looked there wasn’t one left. And -if you don’t come to my aid--why, you know what Madame Tabbishaw is? -She’ll always say I stole them. Come, you’ll lend me the money, I know -you will, for father’s sake, and the name’s sake. We Pounces ain’t -never been called thieves, aunt.” - -Her voice shook, for suddenly the word stung her, unrepentant though -she remained. - -“Lend you!” Miss Lydia let herself fall into my lady’s own -rosy-cushioned chair and broke into piercing remonstrance. - -How in the name of goodness was she to find such a sum? Did Pamela -think she was made of gold? Here was a return for all her kindness! A -girl who was so wickedly careless--likely to keep her promises, indeed! -She that ought to be racking her brains to pay back her dear auntie for -all her sacrifices. - -“Thirty pounds, miss, it cost me to send you to Paris, and you to be -so unprincipled as to let Madame Eglantine’s husband take to ogling -you. And it’s paying me back you ought to be, instead of having the -brazenness to ask me for thirteen pounds. And indeed, miss, it’s not -thirteen pounds I’ll give you; no, not a farthing more than the sum of -the bill. You that might have had fourteen and tuppence!” - -She suddenly broke off, sat up straight, and pointed a finger at her -niece with a sharp throw. - -“Where did you go to, miss, when you left this house? Straight, now! -What? You went and sat under the trees in the park? Upon my word, I -never! And how long might you have been a-sitting there? You don’t -know. Better and better. You went to sleep, miss, with that there bag -full of gold. Oh, you----” - -Pamela drooped her head, receiving the indictment as with the humility -of a guilty conscience, though she was considerably relieved by the -solution which the older Miss Pounce had found for herself. - -Suddenly Lydia bounced out of her seat. - -“Mercy on us, here’s my Lady!” cried she. And then, with a scream: -“Mercy on us!” she cried again. “What in the world has happened?” - -Pamela stared. My Lady Kilcroney it was indeed, to judge by a fine -feathered hat and a delicate flutter of muslins, but a vastly different -Lady Kilcroney from the charming, happy little lady of Pamela’s -remembrance. A small figure with a stricken face crawled into the room, -and, as Lydia rushed forward, nearly swooned against her. - -“My Lady, my Lady, what is it?” cried the maid in genuine concern, -guiding her mistress’s form to the chair she had herself but just -vacated. - -“Oh, oh, oh!” moaned my Lady. “Oh, in the name of Heaven, send for my -Lord? Oh, Lydia, the letter, the letter!” - -Both women then saw that in a little gloved hand my Lady Kilcroney was -clutching an open sheet. Lydia took it into her own grasp and glanced -at it. - -“Mercy on us!” then cried she for the third time. “That dratted young -man you’ve been so good to! Well, if ever was anything so ungrateful! -To go and put an end to himself, just to spite you! Never you take on, -my Lady, he’s no great loss, I protest. A good riddance, say I.” - -“Oh, oh, oh!” Kitty Kilcroney sat up and wrung her hands. “Was ever any -woman so punished for a fit of temper? Oh, Lydia! Oh! I shall never -smile again! ’Twas my Lord being so late in yestereven from White’s, -mad-stupid with his losses. And, oh, the night I had, trying to show -him the error of his ways and the vast folly of not letting bad be -when the luck’s against him. And him going off in a huff, God knows -where, before I’d as much as swallowed my chocolate! And Mrs. Mirabel’s -hat coming on the top of it, and it is a sight to frighten the crows -after all my trouble. And my gown for Her Majesty’s birthday the wrong -yellow, and no time to get another! And for the wretched boy to come to -me then, with his horrid tale of the dice and the cards, as bad as my -Lord’s own, him without a farthing but my bounty! Oh, oh, ’twas true I -insulted him! What’s that you say? _Who are you, pray?_” - -She had dropped her cries of anguish to speak with the irritability of -the afflicted. - -“I am your woman Lydia’s niece.” - -Pamela went down on her knees before the little distracted lady, and -spoke very gently and deliberately as to a child; and the while she -spoke Kitty’s eyes widened on her smiling countenance as if they beheld -an angel’s. - -“Mr. Jocelyn Bellairs has not committed suicide, my Lady Kilcroney, -nor will he do so, because I took the pistol out of his grasp. Yes, my -Lady, I, with these hands. And I gave him the thirteen pounds you sent -me to pay Mrs. Tabbishaw’s bill. Thirteen pounds! And he went away to -gamble with them at the ‘Six Bells,’ and he was quite sure that he was -going to win all his money back from Lord Sanquhar with the help of -them, and I am quite sure, too, for him. Says he ‘My luck is turned.’ -And----” - -She was interrupted. - -“And that’s what happened to my Lady’s money. Oh, you deceitful wretch! -Oh, you vile young thief!” - -Lydia forgot everything but her indignation. Her gimlet tones might -have disturbed the dead, but neither my Lady nor Pamela paid the -smallest heed to her, for Kitty Kilcroney had flung herself upon the -young milliner’s neck, and, shedding tears of joy, called her the most -incomparable girl, the noblest creature, the nearest thing to a seraph -that had ever walked a world of woe. - -They were both as keen of wit one as the other, and it was wonderful -how, with scarce a question and answer, the whole story came out. - -“You turned into the park, you did not know why? Ah, but I know why! -’Twas Providence, child. A most merciful act of Providence! And you -saw his desperate face? Oh, I can scarce bear it! You wrenched the -pistol from his very hand? Oh, if I live to be a hundred, how can I be -grateful enough to Heaven and to you? Rash and unfortunate young man! -You gave him thirteen pounds? He only asked me for ten. Oh, where did -you say he had gone to? I must send after him. Lydia, bid the carriage -round again. I must go myself. And you shall go with me, child. Oh, you -shall indeed!” - -“Since her Ladyship’s in such a fine mood of generosity,” cried Lydia, -who occasionally presumed on fourteen years’ service, “perhaps she’ll -pay Mrs. Tabbishaw’s bill over again? Or else my niece will be getting -into trouble, and she needn’t look to me to get her out of it, lying to -my very face!” - -Kitty was standing before her mirror, happily setting her flounces into -trim, like a ruffled bird its feathers. - -“And why did you never tell me you had such a niece, Lydia, I should -like to know? And what do you mean by burying a fine young woman like -that with a creature like Tabbishaw? _Ugh!_” - -My Lady’s nerves were pardonably on edge. The shriek that escaped her -as my Lord Kilcroney marched into the room was as piercing as Lydia’s -own. - -“Good heavens, my Lord, you’ll be the death of me! You should have -married Susan Verney, you should indeed, or someone with a cast-iron -constitution. Stay----” - -Kitty’s frowns were never of long duration, and she was in no mood for -frowning! “You’ve come in the very nick of time, my dearest love. Do I -not hear your coach without? Hasten, hasten to the tavern of the ‘Six -Bells.’ Pray, where is it, my dear? Oh, doubtless you know, dearest -Denis. And you will ask for Jocelyn Bellairs. You know, Denis, poor -young Bellairs?” - -“Faith, then, I’ve been beforehand with you, me darling!” said my Lord. - -He was running Pamela’s straight young figure up and down with the -eye of the connoisseur as he stood there, a handsome, devil-may-care -gentleman; one who patronised so superlative a tailor, wore such fine -lawns and laces, and had withal so monstrous elegant a frame whereon to -hang them that a trifle of a loop hanging here or a button loose there -merely pointed to a genteel carelessness. - -“Faith, I’ve been beforehand with you! Meeting my Lord Sanquhar anon, -he took me to the ‘Six Bells,’ where he had a rendezvous with your -_poor_ young relative, Mr. Jocelyn Bellairs. And bejabers,” cried my -Lord, with his favourite Irish oath, “if that young rascal hasn’t -cleaned both me and my Lord Sanquhar as bare as Mother Hubbard’s -cupboard.” - -He paused; the investigating eye fixed itself with a guilty twinkle -upon his Kitty’s countenance, where a mixture of strange emotions were -struggling for expression. And suddenly Lydia clapped her hands and -broke into eldritch laughter. Whereat my Lady also made her choice of -emotions, and laughed too. - -“And troth, mavourneen,” said my Lord, delighted to find the situation -so unexpectedly agreeable, “I’m here to say ’twas you were in the right -of it the live-long night. There’s not a ha’porth of good in trying -to force fortune when the jade has made up her mind to flout ye. And -I’ll take your advice, me darling, and go with you into the country the -moment we get those devils of I O U’s settled, till it’s time for you -to abandon me for that dashed damnation Court of yours!” - -“Oh, I can’t scold you!” cried his wife. “But, oh, why _did_ you -abandon me all day? ’Twas cruel unkind of you, and I dare swear if -you’d been here ’twould never have happened; for you’d not see a fellow -dicer go wanting for a ten-pound note, my Lord, if I know you! Oh, read -that letter, Denis, and you’ll understand. And if it had not been for -Lydia’s niece here, admirable girl! who took the pistol out of his very -hand in the park, and gave him her employer’s money--oh, if it were not -for this noble, clever young woman, where should I be now?” - -“You needn’t worry about the bill, aunt,” said Pamela, with the -perfect composure that compelled that person’s disapproving admiration. -“I gave your address to Mr. Bellairs, and, as he will certainly be -punctual with repayment, her Ladyship will perhaps kindly allow me to -remain until he calls with the money?” - -There was nothing my Lady Kilcroney would have refused Miss Pounce the -younger at that moment, and the milliner’s assistant proceeded to add -to her obligations. - -“If your Ladyship would trust me with the retrimming of Miss -Mirabel’s hat meanwhile, I make bold to say I could alter it to your -satisfaction----” - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -SHOWING STORM WITHIN AND WITHOUT - - -There are some who seem to be destined always to keep on top as the -wheel of life revolves; no matter how others may suffer from the law of -its relentless motion. - -My Lady Kilcroney (still in the minds of those who had first known her -in her brilliant widowhood “Incomparable Bellairs!”) might be counted -among the rare ones who are thus miraculously favoured. - -Beauty, wit, charm, wealth, rank and the irresistible dash of the born -leader she had already possessed; now she had attained to Court favour: -she was Lady-in-Waiting to Queen Charlotte! It is scarcely necessary -to add that she had become a power in the world; should she choose to -exercise her influence on behalf of anyone clever and virtuous enough -to profit of it, that person’s fortune might be regarded as safe. - -So do great planets, following their allotted orbits, carry in their -wake lesser stars that bask and shine in a reflected light! - -In the instance of Miss Pamela Pounce the luminary thus lifted into -prominence, possessed a very considerable power of shining on her own -account; and, once her position in the hemisphere assured, she required -no borrowed brilliancy. - -In other words, my Lady Kilcroney’s recommendation obtained for Pamela -Pounce a new start in life. Madame Mirabel, exceedingly dissatisfied -with her head milliner, aware that Madame Eglantine of Paris was -growing sleek on the very cream of her rightful British custom, and -being moreover much struck with Pamela’s genteel appearance, her manner -and her aptitude, was all readiness to oblige so distinguished a client -as my Lady Kilcroney, and give the young woman a trial. - -Before the autumn of her disastrous summer had waned, the younger Miss -Pounce found herself firmly established in the very position which had -been the object of her wildest dream. She was head of the millinery -department of the great Bond Street mantua maker. - -Like her unexpected patroness, it might seem that her cup of happiness -was full. But there is no factor in the calculations of existence so -easily forgotten as that most important item of all; the human heart. - -Pamela, in making her courageous plan of life, had forgotten to reckon -with her heart! - -And this tiresome, irresponsible, uncontrollable organ began to trouble -her exceedingly. In those hours of leisure when she was not concocting -delightful schemes for the breaking of other people’s hearts--for every -one knows what a killing hat will do--she found herself considerably -inconvenienced by the peculiar conduct of her own. - -Said Miss Polly Popple, of the millinery department, to Miss Clara -Smithson, the book-keeper: - -“You mark my words, my dear, there’s something up with that young woman -Pounce! She’ll be getting herself into a regular scandal with that -dashing young spark of hers! And if she ain’t got something on her -conscience already ... I don’t know the signs!” - -Miss Smithson leant forward, wheezing heavily. - -“Providence ain’t always unjust, Polly,” she said, “and people do come -by their rights, no matter how many viscountesses is against them!” - -“Ah,” said Polly, swelling her fine bust, and looking at herself in the -fly-blown glass which hung over the chimney in the little room at the -back of the Bond Street shop where she was sitting, after hours, with -her friend. “That was a bit of jobbery, that was! There isn’t one in -the establishment, I do believe, that wasn’t struck all of a heap when -they heard that a strange young female was put into old Mrs. Dodder’s -place instead of me, which the next in rank is always, by law, you -might say, entitled to. Lady Kilcroney being that prodigious in the -fashion--not that I was ever one to admire her; give me breeding!--and -Madame Mirabel being so set on cutting out Madame Eglantine--not that -she ever will, and you mark my words, for London ain’t Paris, I say, -and that I’ll maintain, and you may talk yourself blue in the face, -Clara, and you won’t alter that! If it hadn’t been for that put-up job, -’tis I’d have been head of the millinery here this moment.” - -Miss Polly Popple’s case was clear, but Miss Smithson’s reasons for -disliking Pamela were perhaps more abstruse. She talked big of the -claims of friendship, of her sympathy for Miss Popple, and also -of a “rising within her,” which with her was an infallible sign -of “something fishy” in somebody else. But the truth was that the -new-comer’s radiant youth, her success, her spirit of enterprise, had -started the base passion of envy in Miss Smithson’s withered breast; -a passion the more prejudicial that it flourishes entirely outside -the pale of reason! She listened very greedily, therefore, to Miss -Popple’s rapid exposition of her suspicions. Between gossip, malice, -and inventiveness, the new head milliner’s character seemed indeed in a -parlous condition when Miss Popple concluded. - -That wheezing breath of Miss Smithson’s was drawn with ever-increased -intensity. - -“Walking with the young gentleman late of an evening in the Green Park! -Upon my word! If it had been you that had seen her last night, now, -Miss Popple dear, instead of that poor foundling of a Mary Jane, which -Madame Mirabel was saying only yesterday could scarce be trusted to -match a skein of blue silk, I’d go to Madame Mirabel this minute with -it, I would, being so to speak, a cousin----” - -“Beware what you does, Miss Smithson, you’ll ruin all. Give her rope.” - -“Rope, Miss Popple?” - -“Rope to hang herself with,” said Miss Popple vindictively. “That’s in -a manner of speaking. Plain, she’ll give herself away or he’ll give her -away,” she had an ill-natured giggle, “so as we give them time. It’s -his game to give her away, a devil-may-care hand, some young buck who -only wants to have her at his mercy, just for his fun. Wasn’t he after -her here--open--three afternoons out of last week?” - -“After her here?” Miss Smithson again repeated her friend’s last words. -She was exceedingly shocked. - -“Why, mercy to goodness,” she went on in horrified tones: “Ain’t it the -rule of the house? No male belongings is allowed after the young ladies -here if they were grandfathers itself. And they churchwardens.” - -“Oh, tush, Smithson,” interrupted Polly contemptuously. “Of course my -sly young beau comes dangling in with some lady friend, to help her to -choose a hat--_by way of_--” Polly winked. “Toosday, it was Mrs. Lafone -as brought him, or, to be correct, he brought her, which, knowing the -minx as I do--I refers here to Mrs. Lafone--’tis my intimate conviction -’tis he will pay for that there hat! But, as you knows, Miss Smithson, -and none better, ladies’ morals ain’t our concern, thanks be, so long -as we keeps our own respectable.” - -Miss Smithson admitted this regrettable truth with a doleful sigh. -Polly took another pull at the brew of hot spiced beer which they had -concocted for their comfort this cold December night, and proceeded: - -“Thursday, if Mr. Stafford doesn’t bring him along all innocent! He, -with his handsome lady on his arm, up from Windsor for the day, to buy -her a stylish head for a Christmas present. And, ‘What are you doing, -looking in at a hat-shop window, Bellairs,’ says he, laughing and -joking (’tis his way, my dear, a very agreeable gentleman!) ‘Gad,’ -says he, ‘you’ve not got a wife to run you up bills! Your chinkers goes -hopping out on hosses and dice and cards, and what not! Selfish fellows -you bachelors are!’ And Mr. Jocelyn Bellairs, bowing to Mr. Stafford -and declaring he only wished he had other people’s luck--and indeed, -Miss Smithson, Mrs. Stafford is a real beauty!--but all the while, my -dear, who is he looking at and ogling and taking occasion to whisper -to--but Miss Pounce, if you please! And if I didn’t see the way her -kerchief lace was quivering with the palpitation of her heart, and her -hands shaking as she took down heads for Mrs. Stafford and held them up -for her--well, my name’s not Popple.” - -Miss Smithson leant over the sulky coal fire and lifted the saucepan -from the hob to refill her glass. Her own hands shook. That Pamela was -a disgrace and would bring discredit on the whole house of Mirabel! She -felt it in her bones. - -“You may say so, dear.” As her friend drank, Polly Popple tendered her -own tumbler for replenishment, murmuring parenthetically, however: -(“Not a drop more, love. I never did hold with stimulants, only you -were so pressing and it is a foggy night, I won’t deny, and a drop of -cordial, a mere medical precaution, so to speak)--you may say so,” the -slighted young lady of the bonnet department took up her theme with -fresh gusto. “And you’d say so a million times more if you had seen -them to-day. For Mr. Jocelyn comes in with my Lady Kilcroney--and oh! -the bold brazenness of it!--there he stands behind my Lady’s chair -and Pounce--La! I declare I’d have been sorry for her if she wasn’t -what she is, the baggage--red and white and not knowing where to put -her eyes with him signalling to her. Yes, and if he did not thrust a -letter into her hand as I went out, you may set me down a liar. And her -stuffing it into her kerchief under my very nose!” - -“Don’t, dear, don’t,” moaned Miss Smithson, beating the air with her -bony hand. Then, after a long pause, during which she seemed to be -painfully bringing her virginal mind to confront the awful pictures -just presented to it, she went on acridly: “There’ll be a bust up. When -a girl comes to that _pint_ of disreputableness things is bound to -happen. It can’t go on like this--you mark my words.” - -Now, strangely enough, barring the inexactitude of the premise, such a -conclusion had just formed itself in Pamela’s own mind. - -It could not go on. Something was bound to happen. She had saved the -life of Mr. Jocelyn Bellairs; and he had demonstrated his gratitude by -promptly falling head over heels in love with her. So far, so good; or -rather, so far, so bad, where a dashing young gentleman of expensive -habits, small principle and remarkable fascination and a young person -of the working classes are concerned. For the mischief of it was she -had fallen in love with him. Poor Pamela, with her high spirit, her -clear brain and her strong courage, to be betrayed by a heart as -vulnerable as any silly girl’s of the lot! She was clear-sighted enough -to know that, stripped of the golden glamour, the path of her romance -led to a very ugly gulf. She despised herself for her weakness. She -had no illusions on the quality of the attachment offered to her by -Mr. Jocelyn Bellairs, but, as the short December days dropped away -to Christmas, she found, growing within her, a dangerous new self; a -reckless creature who cried: _The Devil might take the consequences; a -girl was young but once; you found your fate, and had to clasp him or -lose him; the one man you could love, and him only, or go wanting to -your grave!_ - -“I know it’s death and destruction some time,” said Pamela to herself, -sitting hugging her knees in the neat little chamber in Shepherd -Street, where she lodged with a most respectable widow woman who had -once seen better times, “but isn’t it death and destruction anyhow and -at once if I have to give him up?” - -She re-read the letter he had slipped into her hand--the audacious -fellow--a few hours ago at Madame Mirabel’s. - - “_It must be yes or no, my darling lovely girl._” - -My darling, lovely girl. That was what his eyes were always saying, and -oh! it was sweet! - -It must be yes or no! She told herself that if she couldn’t say yes, -it was still more impossible to say no. Backwards and forwards she -struggled with the insolvable problem, till her tallow candle expired -with a great stench, and she was left in darkness and misery. Worn out -with her long day she fell at last asleep, to be wakened by the call of -a cock in Shepherd’s Market. Perhaps it was this farmyard cry which, -weaving into her consciousness, had made her dream so strongly of the -old place at home. When she woke she could hardly believe she was not -in the billowing four-poster in the great attic, with pretty Sister -Susie asleep beside her. - -Again the cold, foggy, bleak London morning was rent by the crow of the -cock. Then Pamela knew where she was, and she knew something else, too. - -That other self which had got into her must not be listened to on any -account. It must indeed be stamped out of existence with the utmost -promptitude. - -Now Pamela was considerably wiser than most young women in her -position. She took a sensible resolution. - -“I’ll go to Mrs. Mirabel this very morning,” she decided, “and ask for -a Christmas holiday. She won’t refuse me, being the good-natured soul -she is, and me so useful to her. And once I get home and feel mother’s -arms about me--there! I know I’ll be all right. I needn’t be afraid of -myself any more.” - - * * * * * - -Pamela Pounce took seat in the Dover coach. She was in a sedate -flutter, an admirably dignified bustle. She knew to the fraction of an -inch the amount of space to which she was entitled, and she possessed -herself of it determinedly. She had, besides her own agreeable person, -divers bandboxes and loose parcels to place, and this she did with -an amiable assurance that put protest to the blush, and set other -passengers’ pretensions in a gross light. When her arrangements were -concluded she heaved a sigh, presented a vague smile, and lay back, -her hands folded, to survey the other travellers at leisure. She was -herself better worth looking at than any of the coach-load, which -contained a foreign couple, one or two of the usual bagmen on the -road to France, a Dover shopkeeper, a farmer’s wife, and an elderly -gentleman of delicate and serious mien, who drew an old calf-bound -volume from a shabby bag, and fixed large gold-mounted spectacles upon -his high, transparent nose with all the air of one prepared with solace -for the journey. - -But as he sat exactly opposite Miss Pamela Pounce, his shrewd, cold -eyes wandered ever and anon from the print to fix itself upon her, as -though--which was indeed the fact--he were puzzled in what category -to place her. It was obvious to Sir Edward Cheveral, who, though -impoverished, was himself a gentleman of the first water, that the -ambulent nymph in front of him was not of his class, perfect as was the -fit of her grey riding coat, refined and reposeful as were the hands -in their long grey gloves, tasteful in its coquettishness as was the -grey riding toque, set on chestnut curls, and suitably as these curling -tresses, unpowdered, were smoothed away to be tied with a wide black -ribbon at the back of the long proud throat. - -In the first instance, no young person of family with such claims -to distinction as her elaborate travelling gear pointed to, would -be voyaging in the public coach unattended; in the second, in her -quiet ease, and the full yet not immodest assurance of her glance, -the manners of one accustomed to fight the world for herself were -very obvious; in the third, there was an indefinable lack of the -never-to-be-mistaken stamp of breeding. - -“For all your clever counterfeit, my good girl,” reflected Sir Everard, -“you haven’t the ring of the guinea gold.” - -Yet he reproached himself for the accusation. Here was, after all, no -counterfeit; very good metal of its kind. “Fine yellow brass,” thought -he with a chuckle. “All in a good sense, my dear.” - -What was she? From whence and whither speeding? Not an actress. That -fresh, close-textured skin had never known paint on its flower-like -surface. The cheeks were not even rouged; indeed, after the flush of -bustle, the colour of them was now settling back in a curious ivory -pallor, which went well with the ardent hair. No fine lady’s young -woman; every movement had betrayed conscious independence. A shop-girl? -The wife of some small merchant? Nay, ’twas the impersonation of maiden -liberty, and what shop-girl could encompass such a wealth and detail of -modishness? - -She caught his gaze upon her, leaned forward and smiled. He had already -noticed that her smile was rather dazzling. He quite blinked to find it -addressed to himself. - -“I trust, sir,” said she, “my bandboxes do not incommode you?” - -“By no means, madam,” answered he civilly; and moved his long, thin -legs back a further fraction beneath the seat. - -“I haven’t been home,” said she, “for four years, and luggage do grow -when one has five young sisters at home, sir, and presents run to hats.” - -“To hats?” he repeated, with that interested air that obviates the -audacity of a question. - -“Along, sir,” said Miss Pounce, and her smile broadened, “with me being -in the millinery business.” - -She drew herself up with a very pretty and, to his mind, becoming -pride. - -“A business,” he said, “which I take it, madam, is in a flourishing -condition.” - -“You may say so, sir.” Her pride increased. “Since Miss Pamela -Pounce--that’s me!--has been made head of the department, Madame -Mirabel can scarce execute the vast number of orders.” - -“Upon my word!” He had removed his spectacles, and was smiling on her -in his turn in a kindly, detached, faintly satiric way. “I trust Madame -What’s-Her-Name recognises her debt to you?” - -The head milliner gave her curls ever so slight a toss. - -“Well, sir, she wouldn’t like to lose me. She knows I’m worth my weight -in gold to her.” - -His glance flickered over her comely proportions. Tall, generously -made, he had called her a nymph. “Goddess would have been the better -appellation,” murmured he. - -“Well, ’tis a comfort to an old man like myself to meet one so youthful -to whom work is proving both fruitful and blessed.” - -Miss Pamela Pounce didn’t need any old gentleman to commend her. She -knew the value of work, and who better? And if it was blessed to her, -why she took good care that it should be. And, as to content with her -lot--sure, if she hadn’t been, she wasn’t a fool, she’d have picked out -another for herself. - -“’Tis some old clergyman,” she thought, and laughed. “He’ll scarce know -what a hat means. Clergyman’s wives and daughters in the country would -give any woman of taste bad dreams for a fortnight. There was Mrs. Prue -Stafford. Had she not still to learn that to wear pink and blue with -such cheeks as she had was positive vulgar? And she married to the -finest of fine gentlemen.” - -Sir Everard folded his spectacles, put them carefully into his breast -pocket, and closed his Virgil. Here was an opportunity of studying -a--to him--hitherto quite unknown branch of humanity, after an -unexpectedly pleasant fashion. The girl pleased him. He had called her -brass and humoured the simile. A shining, solid composition of metal -that took a handsome polish and showed itself boldly for what it was. -He liked her for her spring of youth, her frank pride of her trade, -for having no petty nonsense nor poor pretentiousness to pass for what -she was not. He liked her brave independence. There was, he thought, a -better modesty in her quiet certainty than any prudish airs and graces -could have lent her. - -“’Twould be a presuming fellow,” he mused, “that would dare to try his -gallant ways with such an one, and if he did, I would back my young -milliner to teach him a lesson.” - -She told him how she had, so to speak, graduated in Paris, which -accounted, thought he, for a taste that was scarcely indigenous. And -her home was between Canterbury and Dover, and she, brought up till -seventeen on the farm, the eldest of eleven. Then he knew whence she -had drawn that sap of splendid vigour; a hardy flower of English soil. -And the chief of his many prides being that he was an Englishman, he -was still better content. - -She would alight, she told him, at “The Rose” at Canterbury, where she -would lie the night. And father would fetch her in the morning; for -’twas mortal cold across the downs on a winter’s evening, and ’twas a -long drive for the mare even in good weather. - -“Bravo,” said he. “I, too, halt at ‘The Rose,’ I am glad to know that -I shall have such good company. May I sit beside you at supper in the -eating-room, my dear young lady?” - -“Oh, you’re vastly obliging, sir!” said Pamela Pounce, and a faint pink -crept, like the colour of a shell, into her smooth, pale cheek, for she -had a good eye for a gentleman, and she knew that she was honoured. - -Her tongue ran on gaily, and he listened with a gentle air of courtesy -and an interest which in truth was not assumed. - -In spite of her sophisticated manner her chatter was very artless. It -was a revelation of a character which had remained curiously untouched -by the world. The busy mart in which she lived had cast none of its -dust upon her soul. - -Dear, to be sure, how prodigious joyful they would be at home to see -her back! - -“Four years, sir, think on it! I was but a child when I left them, -and now I’m a woman!” ’Twas like, indeed, that none would recognise -her again, should they just happen to meet, accidental like. She half -wished she could have walked in upon them and taken them by surprise. -But then: “Father, sir, would ha’ lost the pleasure of coming to fetch -me,” and her mother might have been vexed. “Mother’s very house-proud, -sir. She’d want to have things pretty for me, and bake cakes and that.” - -And they’d all be looking out for her on the house step. Just to think -of their dear faces fair turned her silly. She blinked away a tear and -gave her bright smile. But as he smiled back it was with a certain -melancholy. The farmer with his eleven children--poor, struggling -fellow!--the hardworked mother, the good, industrious child, returning -home with her hands full of gifts, blessed in her honest toil for them, -were they not all about to taste joys from which he had deliberately -cut himself off in his fastidious isolation? He had scarcely ever -regretted his chosen solitariness. His beautiful old shabby home, set -in the loneliness of the snowy park, the wood fire in the library in -the company of a favourite book, the ministrations of a couple of -well-drilled servants, an austere silence, a harmonious communion -with the high spirits of the dead; that was the Christmas to which -he himself had looked forward with complacency. Now he wondered; his -heart contracted with a most unusual sense of pain; had he lost the -best in life? If he had had a daughter by his shoulder with a white, -pure forehead such as this girl had, and had seen her eyes fire with -love, heard her voice tremble at the thought of meeting him, her old -father, would not that have brought him a sweetness finer than the most -exquisite page in Virgil? - -The day, which had opened blue and gold, with a high wind and clear -sunshine, began to gather threatening clouds by the time the posting -station was reached; and the “Dover High-Flyer” plunged away again into -a snow squall with all the speed of its fresh horses. - -“We are like to have a seasonable Christmas,” quoth Sir Everard, and -was pleased to note that, while the rest of the company grumbled and -complained, the fine specimen of young womanhood opposite to him -produced a warm shawl from a bundle, tucked it round her knees, and -offered him the other end, declaring, with a smile, that she was as -warm as a toast, and that she did love a white Christmas. - -They all dined at Rochester, and had hot punch, of which Miss Pounce -partook with enthusiasm, but in very discreet measure. - -Conversation flagged on this, their last, stage. The snoring of the -foreign pair who, having tied their heads up in terrible coloured -handkerchiefs, leant against each other and gave themselves up to -repose with much the same animal abandonment as that with which they -had gobbled the beef-steak pie and gulped the hot rum of the “Bull -Inn” at Rochester; the sighing fidgets of the farmer’s wife, and the -grunts of her neighbour, the Dover tradesman, each time they jarred him -from a fitful somnolence, alone broke the inner silence. Without, the -multiple rhythm of the horses hoofs and the varying answer of the road -to the wheels--now the scrunch of cobble stones, now the slushy whisper -of the snow-filled rut, now the whirring ring of a well-metalled -stretch--formed a monotonous whole which lulled to silence those who -could not sleep. - -Sir Everard saw, by the shifting flicker of the lamps, how pensiveness -gathered on the bright face opposite him. Once or twice the girl raised -a finger to the corner of her eyelid as if to press back a rising tear; -sighs lifted her bosom. - -“Ah!” thought the old philosopher, “the goddess of modes is not so -fancy free as I had thought. Here, truly, are all the signs of a -gentle love tale. Perhaps the young man in the counting-house, or some -sprightly haberdasher, who sees Miss pass to her work, and would fain -capture for his own counter a face so fair and charming.” - -Sir Everard felt very old and stiff by the time Canterbury was reached, -and half regretted his suggestion to his travelling companion, to -continue their comradeship at supper. He thought it might have better -become his years and aching bones to retire into a feather bed with a -basin of gruel. Far indeed was he from guessing the singular emotions -into which his old age was destined to be plunged that evening. - - * * * * * - -A fine room with a four-poster, no less indeed than the chamber which -went by the name of “Great Queen Anne,” this was what the landlord -proposed to allot to Sir Everard. A chimney you couldn’t beat in the -kingdom for drawing, mine host averred, and a fire there this minute; -agreeable to Sir Everard’s obliging communication. And what could he do -for Miss? - -Sir Everard was a little shocked to hear Miss Pounce enter upon a brisk -bargain for an attic, and hesitatingly began a courteous offer of his -own apartment, when she interrupted him with the valiant good sense -which he had already had cause to admire in her. - -“Not at all, sir! ’Tis what suits my station--so long as the sheets -are clean and there’s a good bolt to the door; you’ll promise me that, -Mr. Landlord? And if you can’t spare a warming pan, sure a hot brick -will do vastly well. And now, sir, give me time to see my bandboxes in -safety, and I’m for supper.” - -Even as she spoke she started. Her eye became fixed, her lips fell open -upon a gasp of amazement. The healthy white bloom of her countenance -turned to deathly pallor, and then a tide of blood rushed crimsoning to -her forehead. Beholding this evidence of strong emotion, it scarcely -needed the sight that met Sir Everard’s glance as he followed the -direction of her eyes to confirm his instant conclusion. The young man, -of course! Stay, the young man is a gentleman--poor nymph! Here then -were joy, and fear, confusion, the warning of conscience, and artless -passion, all mixed together. - -The young gentleman advanced; a fine buck, of the very kind, thought -Sir Everard, who took an instantaneous dislike to him, to turn the -head of any girl beneath him in station, whom he might honour with his -conquering regard. There was a black and white handsomeness about his -chiselled countenance; all the powder in the world could not disguise -that those jet eyebrows were matched with a raven spring of hair. -With a smile, a dilation of nostrils, a swagger of broad shoulders, -a leisurely step of high-booted legs, he came forward out of the -tap-room. No surprise on his side: my gentleman had planned the meeting. - -“La, Mr. Bellairs!” Pamela Pounce exclaimed, and her voice trembled. -Then she rallied, and strove to pursue with lightness, “who ever would -have thought of seeing you here?” - -He took her hand and lifted it to his lips with an exaggerated -courtesy, as if he mocked himself for it the while. - -“Why, did I not guess rightly, my dear, you would be spending a lonely -evening here on your way home?” - -“Oh, Mr. Bellairs!” - -He kept her hand in his, to draw her apart. Sir Everard, gazing at -them, his chin sunk in his muffler, with severe, sad eyes, saw how -she swayed towards him, as she went into the window recess, as if -her very soul floated on the music of his voice. He watched them -whisper ardently together, and then she went by him like a tornado, -picking up her bandboxes as she passed, quite oblivious of his -presence, or of anything, apparently, save the young rascal, so Sir -Everard apostrophised him, who stood gazing after her with the same -insufferable smile; the smile of the easy conqueror. - -Sir Everard never had had a high opinion of women. Life had given him -no reason to indulge in illusions. But now all his condemnation was for -the man. The strong, self-reliant creature who had faced him all those -weary hours with such unalterable good humour, such a candid outlook, -such a pleasant acceptance of her own position that it was the next -thing to high breeding, what was this Captain Lothario planning to make -of her? And how, since he had found her already so hard to win that he -must travel to Canterbury for the purpose, did she now thus readily -yield herself to his plucking hand? Ay, the villain had struck at some -peril point in the life of her soul. The child was tired after her long -journey; tired too, perhaps, by the mental conflict from which her -integrity had hitherto emerged triumphant. A sudden assault had found -the fortress unprepared. ’Twas the old story! - -Sir Everard went wearily to his room. The thought of the feather bed -and the gruel, of a selfish withdrawal from further association with -what was like to end in sordid tragedy tempted him perhaps, but he did -not yield to it. The girl’s smile haunted him. It had been so brightly -innocent; and he was haunted, too, by the last memory of her face, -stricken with astonishment, quivering with joy. However she might fall, -it would not be through light-mindedness. The folly, the misery, was -deep rooted in her poor heart. - -He made a careful toilet, and went down the slippery oak stairs, -leaning on his gold-headed cane, looking a very great personage -indeed, delicately austere and nobly haughty. - -Alas! Pamela never so much as lifted her radiant head when he came -into the eating-room. She was seated beside her gallant at the end of -the table in close conversation--that whispered, blushing, laughing, -sighing conversation of lovers--and if the roof had fallen over them, -Sir Everard thought, the two would scarce have noticed it, so absorbed -were they in each other. - -The young man had ordered champagne, and the girl’s glass was filled, -but the bubbling wine had barely been touched. Another intoxication, -more deadly and more sure, was working through her veins. The old -philosopher, seeing her condition, resigned for the moment all thought -of interference, and sat down to his bottle of claret and bowl of broth. - -Hardly, however, had he broken his hot roll, than the room was invaded -by fresh arrivals; a young woman, wrapped in furs, conducted by a -gentleman who had not removed his travelling coat, and kept his hat -pressed on his brows; a personage who entered with an intolerable -arrogance as if the place belonged to him, who ordered champagne and -supper for the lady, and fresh horses for his coach, in a voice which -rang like the crack of a whip. He could not wait; the servers must -bustle. A guinea each to the ostlers if they harnessed within ten -minutes. “And, hark ye, sirrah, a bottle of your best Sillery, and----” - -“Surely I know this autocratic fellow,” thought Sir Everard, and as the -traveller drew his companion with an imperative sweep of his arm about -her, to the end of the table opposite to that at which Mr. Bellairs and -his Dulcinea were seated. “My Lord Sanquhar!” cried Sir Everard, “by -all that’s outrageous! And who in the name of pity is his victim now?” - -That the two were lovers, of a stage considerably more advanced than -the poor milliner and her Beau, was obvious to the onlooker, and as -my Lord Sanquhar now tore his hat from his head, to dash the snow that -covered it into the fire, where it hissed and spluttered like a curse, -the young woman who accompanied him let herself fall on to the settle -and turned a look of darkling challenge, of brooding suspicion, into -the room. - -She was clad in the most sumptuous garments. There was a bloom of royal -purple against the tawny clouds of her sables. There was a fire of ruby -at her throat, caught up and repeated at each ear, as if deep gouts of -a lover’s blood had taken to themselves flame for her adorning. But -the countenance she turned upon the room was, Sir Everard thought, -so striking, that all this splendour seemed its natural attribute; -striking with a Spanish beauty, a richness and depth of colour, with -flashing orbs, high nostrils, and scarlet lips. - -“Good Heavens!” Sir Everard mused, “where has he picked the jade? -Victim? Nay, ’tis the kind that keeps a knife in her stocking and will -whip it out and under your rib, and make an end of you with less ado -than another will shed a tear. My Lord Sanquhar will have to look out -for himself. Illicit love is a dangerously charged atmosphere in which -to handle live gunpowder.” - -The “Dover High-Flyer” had only dropped two of its passengers at “The -Rose,” and the landlord was free to attend to his imperious guest. -He himself served my Lord Sanquhar’s champagne, and with bent back -received his “pishs” and “pshaws” on the dearth of proper entertainment -for the lady. She wanted fresh fruit, and there was none. She asked for -chocolate, and pettishly refused to touch it. One sniff was enough. All -her desires and denials she communicated in a guttural undertone to her -companion, who translated them into oaths. - -Sir Everard, who had had but a poor appetite, was now, his broth bowl -pushed on one side, dipping bits of roll into his wine after a foreign -fashion, and watching the while the two sets of lovers at the further -end of the room. He noticed, not without some satisfaction, that -constraint had fallen upon the ardent Bellairs and his fair milliner. -The colour on the young man’s face fluctuated. He bit his lip and shot -doubtful looks of question from the blatant couple to the downcast -countenance of his companion, who had grown very pale, scarcely spoke, -and seemed now and again as if she was struggling with tears. - -A clatter of hoofs, the clang of a bell, and a shout from the door -announced another guest, a solitary horseman, it seemed. The landlord, -who was just entering the room with a plate of dried plums in the hope -of tempting the appetite of the capricious lady--he had scented my -Lord’s quality with unerring nose--here thrust the dish into the hands -of a waiter and turned back to receive the newcomer. He had left the -door open behind him and all could hear the passionate explosion of a -hoarse voice in the hall. - -The dark little lady on the settle by the fire sprang to her feet, and -stood, tense. Her companion gave a swift frowning look of surprise. Sir -Everard, gazing upon her also, drew a quick breath. “By the immortal -gods,” said he to himself, “the drama is coming swifter than one could -have imagined.” And, indeed, what the ancient quiet inn was destined to -hold for the next ten minutes in the way of human passion, conflict, -and tragedy, might happily be never as much as guessed at in the -lifetime of most men. - -The landlord, his wig awry, his features discomposed, puffing and -blustering, was vainly endeavouring to prevent the ingress of a -small thick-set man, who though wrapped in a cloak and carrying some -considerable burden, which he kept hidden under its folds, contrived by -a single violent thrust of his shoulder, to send him spinning out of -the way. The intruder advanced then at a headlong run, brought himself -up short, flung back his cloak, and with the same gesture his hat, and -stood revealed, swarthy, grizzled, livid, panting through dilated -nostrils, glaring upon the woman by the settle. There was a great -flare of colour on his broad chest, where, wound in a scarlet shawl, a -little child of about two, with a head of curls of that dark copper hue -destined to turn black with years, lay placidly asleep; the curve of a -plump apricot cheek was all that was visible of its face. - -“Good heavens,” said Sir Everard, and at the sight of the sleeping -innocence, something in his old heart began to lament. - -There was a moment’s extraordinary silence, broken only by the -breathing of the man with the child, which hissed through his set teeth -like the strokes of a saw. Then my Lord Sanquhar laughed. - -The man leaped as if he had been struck. A torrent of words broke from -him--guttural, fierce, intolerably anguished. Sir Everard knew a little -Spanish. - -The unfortunate was pleading: “Come back, come back! I will forgive -all. Come back, Dolores, you cannot leave us. You cannot leave the -little one. Come back in the name of God, in the name of His Holy -Mother. _Madre di Dios_, look at her! You cannot leave that! Ah! -unhappy one, you want gold and jewels. Was not our love your treasure? -Is not our child a pearl? Look at her!” - -In singular contrast to the unrestrained violence of his outburst, the -manner in which he held out the child was pure tender. The little one -woke, stared about her with devouring black eyes of amazement, caught -sight of the standing woman’s face and cried, joyfully beating the air -with minute dusky hands, “Mamma, mamma!” - -At this a sob burst from the unhappy father, so deep and tortured it -was as if it rent him. - -“Dolores, our little girl, she calls you ‘Mamma, mamma!’ Call again my -angel! ‘Mamma, mamma!’” - -He went down on his knees and held out the babe, and as he did so she -wailed. - -The mother, meanwhile, stood, insolent lids half closed, red lips -thrust forward, tapping the floor with impatient foot, the embodiment -of cruel disdain. - -At her child’s cry she stuffed her fingers into her ears with savage -gesture, stamped, and flung a raging glance at her lover as one who -said, “How long am I to endure this?” - -He answered it by the movement of a beckoning finger, which brought her -to his side. Then he cast a gold piece on the table, clapped his hat on -his head, and together they moved towards the door. - -“Ah! By the blessed saints!” - -The Spaniard in a bound was before them. He shook the screaming infant -in their faces as if it had been a weapon. - -“I swear this shall not be. I swear that I shall kill you and your -paramour and the child and myself rather than that this shall be.” - -It was here that Pamela caught the little one from him. He was perhaps -too far gone in passion to notice the action; perhaps he was glad to -have his hands free for his fierce purpose--anyhow, he relaxed his -hold. And the girl, clasping the baby in her arms, hushing it and -soothing it, ran with it to the further end of the room. Sir Everard -had also risen and Bellairs had started forward. But it would have -been as easy to baulk a wild cat of its leap as to arrest the betrayed -husband in his spring upon his betrayer. - -No one ever quite knew how it happened. There was the flash of a knife, -an oath, and my Lord Sanquhar’s “Damn you, you would have it!” and the -explosion of a pistol. - -The Spaniard fell without a groan, right across the doorway. Sir -Everard and Mr. Jocelyn Bellairs both knew that he was a dead man -before he touched the ground. - -“You are witness all,” said my Lord Sanquhar, “that this was in -self-defence.” - -The woman cast a backward glance into the room. Her rich bloom had -faded. She was white, but with a palpitating whiteness as of fire at -its intensest, and the gaze of her great eyes was as fire too. Almost -red they shone, repeating the blood fires of the rubies. Then she gave -herself to Lord Sanquhar’s embrace, and together they rushed out into -the night. - -“Odds my life!” said Mr. Bellairs, looking up at Sir Everard. He had -flung himself on one knee beside the stricken man, and was going -through the vain parade of seeking for a pulse which he knew no longer -beat. “Did you see that, sir?” - -“He lifted her across her husband’s very body! He lifted her right -across the body?” said Sir Everard, in a hushed voice of disgust. - -“Lifted her? Sir, she jumped!” - -Pamela kept the child’s face turned against her breast with a loving -hand, and as she rocked and soothed, she herself wept as if her heart -would break. - -Through the doors, cast open to the night, the roar of a new snow wind -hurtled in upon them. There followed a sudden clamour of voices, as -the host endeavoured to arrest my lord’s departure and was borne down, -well-nigh annihilated, from his path; the crackling shout of my lord’s -orders; the plunge and clatter of hoofs on the cobbles. It seemed as if -the blood-guilty pair had gone on the wings of the storm, and that the -very elements cried after them as they went. - - * * * * * - -Sir Everard, as the most responsible witness, assisted the landlord in -the preliminary investigation of magistrate and constable. He took a -certain grim pleasure in furnishing Lord Sanquhar’s name, and trusted -the nobleman might be summoned to answer for his action. Even if -acquittal were a foregone conclusion, to a reputation already tarnished -this incident was not likely to add a lustre. By the quality of the -murdered man’s clothes, the massive gold of his watch-chain, the signet -ring on his dead hand, it was judged that he was a merchant of the -better class, and that the unfortunate incident would probably make -some stir among his compatriots. - -The cold and stiffening body which had been so short a while before -pulsing with agony and passion, was laid in the harness-room of the -inn, covered with a white sheet. Scarce ten yards away the grey horse -that had borne its rider on the wild race to death was placidly -munching its corn, the sweat not yet dry on its flanks. - -When Sir Everard returned to the eating-room he found Pamela still on -the settle, the child asleep on her lap. On the board beside her a -half-finished bowl of bread and milk showed that she had been occupied -with the worse than motherless babe, while he had attended to the last -concerns of its doomed father. On the other side of the hearth, one -elbow propped on the high mantelshelf, stood Mr. Jocelyn Bellairs. The -old man’s entrance had evidently interrupted a conversation between the -two lovers, of an interest so vital that both the faces now turned upon -him were stamped with fierce emotion. - -Sir Everard removed a chair from before the table and sat down on it -facing the fire, and for a space no one spoke. - -Pamela had cast the scarlet shawl across one shoulder so as to shade -the child’s head from the light. Her hand patted and her knees swayed, -rocking the infant sleeper. - -“Poor little creature!” said Sir Everard at last. - -The girl gave him a quick glance. - -“I’ll keep her to-night. I’ve told the landlord I would, and I’d keep -her always if I could.” - -“’Tis a generous thought,” said the old gentleman, with a faint smile -for the magnanimous impractibilities of youth, and as he smiled he was -aware that Mr. Bellairs snapped his fingers and jerked his foot on the -edge of irritable outburst. - -Suddenly Pamela began to sob quickly under her breath; turned her head -aside so that her tears should not fall on the little placid face. - -“I’ve been a wicked girl! A wicked girl!” - -“Hush!” cried Mr. Bellairs, and flung out his hand. - -“No, sir; I won’t be silent!” - -“But, good God, my dear, need you drag this stranger into our intimate -concerns?” - -“He’s no stranger to me, Mr. Bellairs. We travelled down in the coach -together, and he couldn’t have been more civil to me if I’d been a -lady born; no, nor kinder if he’d been my father. Oh, sir, I don’t -know your name, but I know by the pitying way you looked at me that -you understood what dreadful danger I was in and how--” again she -sobbed--“how ready I was to yield to it! He wanted me to go to Paris -with him. He did, indeed! He wanted his love to be my all-in-all, and -nothing else was to matter. I’ve been a wicked girl! I listened to him. -I never would listen to him before--not when he spoke like that--but -to-night I did. Heaven forgive me! What took me?” - -“Confound!” said Mr. Bellairs. - -He wheeled away from the sight of her weeping, clutched the mantelpiece -with both hands, and dropped his head on them. - -“Well, ’tis all over now.” - -Sir Everard spoke uneasily. This openness upon a subject so delicate -was painful to him, but Pamela had the yearning to relieve herself by -confession. - -“Oh, sir, how could I do it? I don’t know myself. I swear when I look -back ’tis as if I had not been myself at all. Something came into -me--so rash, so desperate! ’Twas as if nothing mattered but just his -love, our love. And then--then--when those two came in I saw our sin as -it was. Oh, heavens! Oh, Heaven forgive me! Murder and every evil was -there. Would I not have been just as cruel, done just as horrid murder? -When the truth came out, would my father and mother and my own dear -loves at home, waiting for me so fond and so trusting, and so proud -of their poor, silly Pam, ever have held up their heads again? Oh, -base, base! I would have murdered them for my pleasure. And that love, -what was it? The thing that those two looked at each other, something -vile, something that brought contamination even just to see go between -them. Did he and I look at each other like that? It turned me sick even -to think on, even before--before that poor, poor man came in! Heaven -forgive me! Heaven strike those two in their bad hearts! Oh, sir, did -you look at her when she stared back upon us, that woman? I suppose -there was beauty in her face; I suppose he who went with her thought -her handsome airs worth the cruelty and the blood and the crime on -his soul. But to me she was ugly, all ugly, with the ugliness of her -sin----” - -She broke off, bit her quivering lip, and stared fixedly before her; -an expression of horror on her countenance as if she still beheld the -ugliness of which she spoke. - -Mr. Bellairs straightened himself and snapped his fingers again. - -“Tall talk, my dear,” he began; and then broke off, dropped his eyes -under Sir Everard’s stern gaze, and stood abashed. Then: “Perhaps -you’re right,” he said in an altered, strangled voice; and dashed from -the room as if driven. - -Pamela started, glanced after him, and then wiped her wet cheeks with -the end of the baby’s shawl. - -“Let him go,” she said. - -“You’re a brave girl.” - -“Oh no, sir! Only so grateful, so wonderfully saved, so ashamed. Oh, -this little creature against my breast--must I not feel it--think of -it--if I had had my foolish way I should never have been worthy to hold -such a lovely, lovely little dear in my arms again.” - - * * * * * - -Sir Everard insisted on lighting Pamela to her attic chamber. She went -up before him with a step so elastic, in spite of the burden of the -child in her arms, that she had to wait for him on every landing; which -she did with a return of her bright amiability and even a flicker of -its former radiance in her smile. Each time she halted she rocked the -baby, swaying from foot to foot, murmuring under her breath a crooning -song which the old man thought very sweet; so sweet indeed, that, with -a swing of memory’s pendulum it brought him back to his own childhood’s -days and the tender face of his mother, long dead--a mother who had -never been old like him. - -On the threshold of her poor room they parted. She spared him her right -hand for a second from its motherly caressing and patting of the child -which she bore with such ease on her left arm. He bowed over it as if -it had been his queen’s. - -When he went down to the flaming hearth which justified the landlord’s -boast, he sat long by it. - -He, who had hitherto lived apart in a world of books, found his mind -obsessed by the thought of the frightful passions of humanity as they -had this night played themselves out before him. - -The whole scene reproduced itself in his tired brain with the colours -of life; Lord Sanquhar’s sardonic, pale, haughty face, the rich -vividness, the unblessed allurement, the cruel beauty of the unfaithful -wife; the Spaniard’s agony; the irredeemable tragedy of that picture of -the father with the child; then the dead face. - -“Heaven strike their bad hearts!” had cried Pamela in her honest -revulsion. Could God ever forgive those who had sent forth the soul of -their victim so charged with fury and despair that even death could -bring no peace to his brow? - -And then he thought of Pamela’s face as he had last seen it--pale, -tear-stained, but with the old luminous innocence. And, after all, he -thought, there had come good out of the evil. - -“The providence of God is over us all,” he thought with gratitude, -as he rose stiffly to seek that feather bed, where there was small -likelihood of sleep that night for him. - -He heard the call of a coach horn beyond, in the night, and immediately -afterwards the mighty clatter of the four sets of hoofs and the rush of -the wheels in the streets. He went to his window, opened it, and looked -out. - -The up coach from Dover, pausing only to drop a single passenger. Stay, -to take up a passenger, too. Sir Everard recognised the swing of the -shoulders, the tall, alert frame, the indefinable swagger, even though -muffled in the many-caped travelling coat. - -Young Bellairs was not going to Paris with a fair companion! - -“Thank Heaven!” said Sir Everard. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -IN WHICH MISS PAMELA POUNCE DEMONSTRATES THE VALUE OF VIRTUE TO HER -FAMILY AND HER FRIENDS - - -“And I’m sure, my dear,” said Mrs. Pounce, the tears welling in her -eyes as she gazed lovingly at her eldest daughter, “’tis the golden -girl you’ve been to us!” - -“Ah, you wait, mother!” cried Pamela. “Just you wait! If I don’t finish -paying off that there mortgage with the new spring fashions, call me -Tabbishaw, that’s all I say.” - -The force of condemnation for vulgar stupidity could go no further on -Miss Pounce’s lips. - -Farmer Pounce, seated before the kitchen fire, turned his big, grizzled -head to cast a glance no less affectionate than his wife’s upon the -good daughter. - -“This time last year,” he said; then, in a ruminating voice, “ah, ’twas -a black look-out! As much as I could do to squeeze the interest on the -borrowed money and the expenses of the new loan. And Sir Jasper, with -his eye on the farm this long while, turning the screw on me, he and -lawyer Grinder between them. Cruel hard terms they made me, cruel hard, -but there, ’twasn’t as if I didn’t know their little game. Aye, aye, -they were but waiting, the both of them, to sell me up and get me out -of it all; the land my father’s father’s father called his own.” - -Mrs. Pounce wept at the mere recollection. Where would they have been, -they and the little ones, but for the golden girl? - -Pamela winked away a bright tear of sympathy. Everything about this -girl was bright; the spring of her chestnut hair from her white -forehead, which itself shone as with a kind of luminosity, the glance -of her full, shrewd eyes, the smile that curved her lips. Oh, above -all, it was Pamela’s smile that was bright with the gaiety and joy of -life! - -“Pish, you dears,” she said now, and covered up her emotion with just -one of those flashing smiles. “Don’t be making too much of it. All -those months I wasted at old Tabbishaw’s didn’t I know in my spirit it -would all come right? Wasn’t I sure the whole time”--she played with -her capable fingers in the air--“that there was a fortune in these -hands once I could get them proper to work? And I tell you now, without -vanity--oh, I ain’t got a mite of vanity about it, ’tis my gift, the -way pigs is father’s gift--give me a yard of ribbon, a feather, and -a bit of straw, and I’ll turn you out two guineas before you can say -‘knife.’” - -“Dear, to be sure,” mused Mrs. Pounce, forgetting to knead her scones. -“And think of the Christmas dinner we’ve had. A turkey fit for the -Queen’s table, though I says it as shouldn’t. And me having to sell -every one of my lovely birds last year and keep father on the salt -beef, Christmas and all! And there’s Susie, such a picture in the -bonnet you trimmed for her, at morning service, that I’d never be -surprised if Farmer Fleet’s son were to come to the scratch to-night at -Sir Jasper’s barn dance, I shouldn’t indeed.” - -“I’ve got a white cambric, mother, and blue ribbons ready for her,” -said Pamela, smacking her lips with gusto, “and a Shepherdess -Dunstable. If that don’t settle him! ’Tis the very thing, so simple and -fresh, a sort of daisy-gown, father and mother, that’ll start Master -Tom thinking o’ dairies and the clean linen and the white flour in the -bin; and, ‘What a modest, nice girl,’ he’ll say, ‘The very wife for a -farmer. No nonsense of cheap finery. Only what a maid could buy for -herself and stitch at home,’ he’ll think, poor innocent, and it’s the -model for the French Queen at Trianon, where she plays at milkmaid, -you’d never believe!” - -“Mercy on us!” said Mrs. Pounce, with an uncomprehending stare. -“Frenchies be queer people, to be sure.” - -“And Jenny and Betty shall wear the sprigged muslin,” pursued Pamela. -“And my little pet, Peg, the robe-coat I made her out of the odds and -ends Madame Mirabel gave me from her ladies’ counter.” - -“And what will you wear yourself, my dear?” asked the mother, cutting -her rolled-out paste into neat rounds. - -“Is it me, mother?” Pamela hesitated. Then: “I don’t mean to go,” says -she. - -“Not mean to go?” screamed the farmer’s wife, blank disappointment -writing itself on her good-humoured countenance. - -“Tut! tut!” cried the farmer, and wheeled himself round in his chair. - -The London girl coloured, and a shadow came over her face. - -“Some one’s got to stay at home and look after little Tom,” said she -stoutly, “and him but ten months old, the poor fond lamb!” - -She glanced at the wooden cradle to the left of the hearth, where, -under a patchwork quilt, a chubby miniature reproduction of the farmer -was lying, with fists clenched in a determined fashion, as if he defied -anyone to rob him of his repose. - -“Why, I never heard such nonsense!” Mrs. Pounce gathered the cuttings -of paste together and dabbed them into a single lump with an irritable -hand. “And who’s minded little Tom, do ye think, all the hours, miss, -that I’ve got to be butter-making, plucking of geese, and cutting up -pig for the salting? Who but old Nance, my love, who looked after -yourself when you was no bigger than the little ’un there?” - -“She’s getting very old,” said Pamela. “I caught her nodding yesterday -with the Blessing on her lap, and he as near as anything into the -cinders. Besides, my mind’s made up, and there’s no use your trying to -unmake it. I’ve my reasons, and that’s all there is to it.” - -“Why, Pam, why, lovey”--Mrs. Pounce had a grimace like an infant about -to cry--“you fair break my heart. Why, ’twas all my thought, these days -and days, how I’d let neighbours see what a beauty my dear, good London -da’ter be, and as elegant as any lady!” - -“If you’ve got a reason for disappointing your mother, out with it, -girl, so it’s a good ’un,” said Farmer Pounce, with some sternness. - -Pamela tossed her head. She was never one for making mysteries. - -“Well, father and mother, if you must know so particular, wasn’t that -Sir Jasper Standish as was driving the high curricle away from Pitfold -Church this morning? The stout gentleman, with the kind of red eye, and -it rolling?” - -“Aye, aye,” grumbled the farmer, “the very man, my dear, and a hard -gentleman he be. And queer tales there are about him. ’Tis a good thing -he comes to Standish Hall but seldom. Aye, aye, ’twas him driving them -bloods in the curricle. And a mort of fine ladies and gentlemen in the -barouche. They’ll be staying Christmas, I reckon.” - -“Aye,” corroborated Mrs. Pounce. “A twenty-pound jar of my best salt, -and six turkeys, no less, not to speak of the geese--aye, and a ham, -cured in that very chamber in the chimbley, child. But, dear, to be -sure, was you set against meeting Sir Jasper just for the seeing of him -step into his curricle?” - -“You didn’t happen to note, mother, the gentleman who stepped in after -him?” - -Farmer Pounce and his wife exchanged a scared look, and then by common -consent transferred it to their daughter. There was silence, broken -only by the cheerful song of the kettle on its chain over the embers, -and the stertorous breathing of the infant farmer in the cot. - -Then, with a catch in her breath: - -“Well, child?” ventured Mother Pounce. - -Once more Pamela tossed her head. She was seated at a corner of the -kitchen table, needle, scissors, and workbox at her elbow, and she -turned and twisted the lilac satin rosette in her hand. - -“Well,” she said at last, without looking up. “I don’t happen to want -to meet him, that’s all.” - -“How, my dear?” Mrs. Pounce shot a frightened glance at her husband’s -grim face, and another at her daughter’s bright, bent head. - -“Ain’t the young gentleman a friend of yours?” she asked faintly. - -Pamela snapped her thread. - -“You do want to know a lot, don’t you, mother dear? But there! There’s -no reason why I shouldn’t tell you. I’ve done nothing to be ashamed of. -That young gentleman has the good taste to admire me a mortal lot, but -he ain’t got the good taste, in my opinion, to admire me the right way. -He came after me to Canterbury, knowing I was due here for my Christmas -holiday, and I sent him packing, and, thinks I, ’tis done now, once for -all, and we’ll be the best of friends at a distance. And you could have -knocked me down with a feather when I see his black eye roaming round -the church this morning. Encourage him by going with you to-night? That -would never do, Pamela, my girl! says I to myself, and----” - -“What dost mean by the right way, daughter?” interrupted the farmer, -who had been ruminating her words, and not found them to his liking. -The veins of his forehead were swelled; the hand that gripped the -wooden arm of his chair shook. - -“I mean the wrong way. Now, father, don’t you be a-working yourself up. -I can look after myself, and ain’t that just what I’m doing? Mother, I -vow your cap will beat the one I made for the Duchess of Queensberry -all to nothing. Now, won’t the children be pleased when they find those -cakes all piping hot, mother? They ought to be in soon now--back from -Rector’s. I’d like to try the little gown on my poppet ere you put her -to rest to-night.” - - * * * * * - -It was the first party Sir Jasper had invited to Standish Hall since -the death of his wife, and lavish as was his hospitality, the loss -of that incomparable woman had never been more painfully felt. A -widower-forlornness was over everything. Dusty, flowerless, unkempt the -parlours; discomfort, an open negligence of refined detail, the lack of -the controlling hand, in fine, was sensible to all his guests. - -The Christmas dinner was over, and the ladies had retired. If you -had cared to have examined the bottles in rows on the floor, or the -cut-glass decanters on the table, you would have found that the company -had drawn considerably on Sir Jasper’s generous cellar, and had not -scrupled to mix very freely. - -Sir Jasper and his youngest male guest, Mr. Jocelyn Bellairs, were -at the height of an argument, egged on and applauded by good-natured -Squire Upshott, and that saturnine rake, Sir James Devlin, while Lawyer -Grinder, from Canterbury, leaned back, smiling grimly, his grey fingers -round his glass, his grey eyes acute, his large ears pricked outside -his scratch wig for any business advantage the holiday dissipation -should lay open. - -“Pshaw! My dear fellow, the girl’s been three years in Paris, I tell -you! You’ll not have me believe she’s better than her neighbours. Why, -don’t I know all about her? Isn’t her father squatting on a bit of -land that juts into my ring fence--’pon honour, like a fly in a man’s -honey--eh, Grinder? As handsome a slut as I ever laid eyes on, if -that’s the bouncer I saw at church this morning. If you’re after her, -lad, go in and win! If not, step aside, and make room for your elders!” - -Mr. Jocelyn Bellairs took a draught from the beaker in front of him, -then cast rather a wild glance at his host. - -“You!” cried he. “You step in with Pamela Pounce! My dear Sir Jasper, I -do not intend to be uncivil, but the idea is too droll!” - -“How now? Is Miss so difficult? You know ’tis but a milliner?” - -“Ay, I know more of her, I dare swear, than you do. Difficult? Well, -Sir Jasper, you or anyone may try their chances so far as I am -concerned--I would not give that for them”--snapping his fingers. “Pure -waste! When I tell you that I have failed----” - -The unconscious cockscombry was greeted with a shout of laughter. - -“Hark to him!” cried old Upshott. - -“Odds life!” jeered Sir Jasper. “You stimulate me! So fastidious?” - -“Nay!” Young Bellairs flung a fine black eye about him. “So virtuous,” -said he, his voice sinking quite an octave deeper than its usual gay -note. - -There was another laugh; and then a silence; and then Sir Jasper -repeated drawling: - -“So virtuous? It all depends what the virtue is--eh, gentlemen? There’s -prudence, now--they tell me ’tis much practised of the French.” - -“What am I to take out of that, sir?” - -“Why lad, you may take it that Miss knows her value. With all due -deference to your good looks, you might fail where one like myself -might succeed.” - -“Meaning, Sir Jasper----?” - -“Meaning, Mr. Jocelyn Bellairs, that little milliners, especially if -they’ve been in Paris, may have learnt to have an eye to the main -chance.” - -There was again much and loud merriment. The four other gentlemen -looked at the one handsome youth of the party as if it were agreeable -to see his comb cut. - -“Gad, if there’s any betting going on it, I’ll back Jasper,” said Sir -James Devlin, with that cold smile of his which seemed to blight where -it rested. “But the mischief’s in it, who’d take up the wager at such -odds? What? Sweet, penniless Romeo in the one scale, and rich Sir Paris -in the other, and Juliet a French milliner, Pshaw!” - -“Why then, Sir James,” cried Mr. Bellairs. “Romeo is none so penniless -but that he can back his own word. I’m ready to wager Sir Jasper this -moment as much as he cares to risk that Miss Pamela Pounce--who is not -French, sir, but good Kentish stock--will send him to the right-about, -as she has sent--aye, though ’tis I say it--a better man! That all his -money-bags will not weigh this nutshell”--he crushed one under his -clenched hand on the mahogany as he spoke--“against her virtue.” - -Sir Jasper grew red in the face; his eyes protruded, his veins swelled. - -“Why, done with you, you poor innocent----” - -“Stay, stay,” intervened Sir James. “If there’s to be betting, let’s do -it proper, a’ Heaven’s name! _In primo_, what is the wager to be?” - -Sir Jasper and Bellairs spoke together: - -“That pretty Pounce will pounce fast enough if it is made worth her -while,” cried Sir Jasper, with a guffaw. And: - -“That Sir Jasper has about as much chance of Miss Pamela Pounce’s -favour as of the Princess Royal’s,” asserted Bellairs. - -“Now, tut, tut!” Sir James Devlin shook his head and clacked his -tongue. “If I’m to draw up your wager, gentlemen, you must, if you -please, be a trifle less slipshod. You can’t bet on a pun, Sir Jasper, -nor you on a high-falutin’ comparison to royal ladies, young man. -You’ve got to bet on facts, my lads. Say, that a week from to-day we -find the young person agreeably installed under the protection of our -host here, in--better say London--eh, Jasper? Might be a bit awkward, -too close to Miss’s family, what? Mr. Jocelyn Bellairs here to be given -ocular proof that circumstances alter cases. Let your charmer ask him -to tea in her new abode this day week.” - -“Carry her off, carry her off, good old style. Tally-ho!” cried the -tipsy squire. - -“Capital idea!” Mr. Grinder shook with amusement. “Run away with her! -Carry her off, and keep her from the hats and feathers, Sir Jasper, and -I’ll see that you get Little Pitfold at long last. We’ll foreclose for -the rest of the mortgage. Zounds, we will! Drat that girl! She’s been -paying off at an uncommon quick rate. Took my breath away, she did. We -had to give old Pounce a couple of years for the look of the thing, you -remember--never dreaming--But there! Time will be up next Lady Day, -and”--he broke into dry chuckling--“if you carry off the girl you’ll -win your wager, and get your land into the bargain. Kill two birds with -one stone.” - -Jocelyn Bellairs lay back in his seat with arms folded, and a scornful -smile on his countenance. He did not care what conditions were imposed, -and the higher the stake the better for him. He was so sure of the -result. - -Sir James Devlin had drawn out his tablets. - -“The wager’s plain enough now,” quoth he. “Sir Jasper Standish wagers -Mr. Jocelyn Bellairs that the girl, Pamela Pounce, will give him a dish -of tea this day week, at an address hereafter to be determined, the -said Pamela Pounce being then established under the protection of the -said Jasper Standish. What are the stakes?” - -“Oh, make it worth while!” eagerly cried Bellairs. - -Devlin gave him a keen side-glance. - -“’Tis scarce usual to make the stakes higher than you can meet, Mr. -Bellairs.” - -The young man flushed darkly. But before he could reply: - -“Odds my life,” exclaimed Sir Jasper. “Let’s make it worth while! What -say you to a thousand guineas?” - -“Done!” cried Jocelyn eagerly. Then he added: “I’d like to make a -stipulation. If Sir James loses, let him remit the rest of that -mortgage first, whatever it is. I’ll be content with the residue.” - -“’Pon my word, sir, that’s a strange proposal,” said Sir Jasper, -staring with an air which gave him an odd resemblance to an incensed -bull. - -“You can cry off the whole bet, if you’re afraid of it,” taunted his -guest. - -“Foh!” said Mr. Grinder. “’Tis but a matter of a hundred and -eighty-nine pounds, when all is said and done. Never niggle at that, -Sir Jasper. Go in, and win! ’Pon me soul!” cried the old sinner, -rubbing his hands, “I’d sleep better in my grave if I thought the -Standish estate had got Pitfold at last.” - -“The stakes to be a thousand guineas,” murmured Devlin as he wrote, -“out of which Sir Jasper remits the rest of Farmer Pounce’s mortgage, -one hundred and eighty-nine pounds and hands the residue eight hundred -and eleven, plus the shillings for the guineas, to Mr. Jocelyn -Bellairs. Any backers? Fifty guineas on Jasper. Who’ll take me?” - -Squire Upshott was too far gone, and Lawyer Grinder shook his head, so -Sir James had to content himself with jotting down: “No backers.” - -“Why, zounds!” exclaimed Sir Jasper, after he had ruminated a while. -“It seems that more hangs on this betting to-night than the virtue of -Miss, after all. What? The farm that we Standishes from grandfather -down have vainly been trying to get hold of. That’s a fine idea of -yours, Grinder, odds my life, it is! A thousand guineas besides, and -as fine an armful--hark ye, Devlin, did ye notice her this morning in -church, as neat as a chestnut filly? Foh! There’s blood in her, sir, -there’s blood in her, or I’m no judge----” - -He broke off. ’Twas a dashed superior smile on young puppy’s face. What -made the fellow so cocksure, in the name of all that was sly? A sudden -thought struck him. - -“Look you here, Master Bellairs,” cried he, with a muffled roar. “No -collusion! No putting your head and Miss Pounce’s together to do me out -of a thousand guineas! Eh, Devlin? Eh, Grinder? No blanked tricks!” - -Jocelyn’s nostrils quivered scornfully. - -“I give you my word of honour, Sir Jasper,” said he, “to have no -communication in private with the young lady till your week is out.” - -“Come, come!” said Sir James. “Split me, Jasper, we’re all gentlemen -here!” - -The smile on the face of Mr. Bellairs became accentuated. - -“I’m ready to give Sir Jasper any guarantee,” said he. - -“Deuce take him! He’s like a fellow with a card up his sleeve!” thought -Sir Jasper. “Word of honour, or no word of honour, I’ll make Devlin -keep watch for me.” - -When they went upstairs to the splendid, neglected drawing-room where -Lady Barbara Flyte, her niece, Miss Lesbia Ogle, and Mrs. Colonel -Dashwood were waiting to pour out tea for them, Mr. Jocelyn Bellairs -showed himself in high spirits. - -“Ah, Pamela, my girl!” cried he to himself, “that was an angry look -you cast at me across your prayer-book this morning, a monstrous, -unpeaceful kind of look to a man of good will; but if this day’s work -has not wiped out old scores--A ‘filly,’ he called you. Aye, you’ll -come over the fence as clean as a bird. I’ve no fear of you, my -splendid girl, and you’ll be kinder to me, I dare swear, when next we -meet; but that won’t be this day week, at any lodging paid for by Sir -Jasper.” - - * * * * * - -“Why, la, Sir Jasper, what a merry tune!” And “Oh, Sir Jasper, what a -strange, pretty place!” And, “Why, Sir Jasper, ’tis the most Christmas -sight I’ve ever beheld!” And, “Pray, pray, Sir Jasper, don’t ask me -to trip it with your country bumpkins, for I vow and protest I could -never pick up those vulgar steps!” And, “Oh, Aunt Bab, do but look at -the pink roses in Goody’s cap!” And, “Oh, Miss Ogle, you’re nowhere, I -declare, beside Miss in feathers yonder, plucked from the old turkey -before mother put it in the pot.” “You’re too droll, Mrs. Dashwood!” -“Do you think, Sir Jasper, the buck in the top-boots would have me for -his partner if I simpered ever so sweet upon him?” - -Sir Jasper, moving in this fire of chatter, a lady on each arm and -Miss Lesbia Ogle hanging on his coat-tails, appeared at the barn-door -when he believed his guests to be assembled. The merry tune to which -Lady Bab had alluded fell silent at his approach; there were curtseys -and dips and bows on every side, while the three fiddlers mopped their -streaming faces and, rising as one man from the wooden bench on which -they had been seated in a row, duly ducked their shock heads to their -patron. - -Sir Jasper gave condescending smiles and short, indifferent nods right -and left, the while his eyes roamed, seeking, this way and that. Here -was old Mother Pounce, right enough, as large as one of her own feather -beds, in a lace cap, if you please, mighty genteel, with lavender -knots. And Farmer Pounce in his red waistcoat; confound the fellow, -with his air of independence! Aye, was there not a sort of triumph -about him? Don’t cry till you’re out of the wood, Mr. Yeoman! And split -him, what a row of young Pounces--a fine healthy litter! And, ’pon -honour, a monstrous pretty little chit in white muslin with a straw -hat! Pshaw! He had no time to waste on silly seventeen. Where was their -agreeable bone of contention; where was the handsome Pamela? - -“How, now, yeoman, where is your elder daughter?” - -“At home, Sir Jasper,” answered the father, with the brevity that -declines discussion. - -“Sure, Sir Jasper,” put in Mrs. Pounce, conciliatingly. “My daughter -was vastly obleeged, but she was a trifle fatigued this evening.” - -“She would stay and look after our Tom,” piped Susie. - -“She preferred not to come, sir,” said Yeoman Pounce, frowning. - -Sir Jasper’s brow had likewise gathered thunder-clouds. His eyes rolled -inward. One excuse contradicted another; the farmer’s insolence voiced -the truth. And Master Jocelyn Bellairs, who had not accompanied his -host to the dance, because forsooth, it might be difficult for him to -keep his honourable pledge--Master Jocelyn Bellairs, who had announced -his intention of taking a pleasure stroll this freezing Christmas -night--Master Jocelyn Bellairs, whose very presence at Standish Hall -demanded explanation; who was practically a self-invited visitor, where -was he? Pshaw, did they take him for a fool? Was he to be mocked in -his own house and jockeyed by his own guest? Zounds! The whole plot -was clear in a minute. A plot it was; no wonder Mr. Bellairs had that -insufferable air of certainty. He and his lady-love would soon be -laughing over the thought of how they had swindled him of a thousand -guineas. And what a spending time they would have together! - -If the revelation came swift as lightning to Sir Jasper, no less -swiftly did he make up his mind for action. - -It was a three-mile walk to Pitfold Farm. He would have out his -curricle, and his bloods, and be beforehand with Bellairs. - -Some ten minutes later he was bowling along the frozen road at the -highest speed of his roughed horses, an astounded groom beside him. -Purpose was setting in his mind as hard as the ice in the ditches. -There was no time like the present. He had a slippery pair of young -rascals to deal with. If he was to win his wager he must carry off the -girl this very night. - - * * * * * - -He laid his plans with a wiliness which is not infrequently a -characteristic of gross natures. Conscious in himself of a fine -capacity for evil, such as he will be suspicious of every one and -everything; look for treachery from his most trusted friend, and -infidelity in the wife of his bosom. - -He dismounted at the farmyard gate, and bade Job Stallion, the groom, -drive in alone and announce that Sir Jasper Standish had sent the -curricle for Miss Pounce, as it was her father and mother’s pleasure -she should come to the dance. - -The ruse succeeded with a facility beyond his expectations. Pamela had -been finding the lonely evening disconsolate enough. Baby Tom slept, -while old Nance displayed uncommon wakefulness. The time was heavy on -Pamela’s hands, and to while it away she had had the happy thought -of trying on the pretty garments which she had prepared before Mr. -Bellairs’ appearance in church had made a call upon her prudence. - -Now the reaction which so often follows self-sacrifice had set in. -She was beginning to call herself a fool, and to regret her excessive -discretion. Thus when old Nance laboured, panting, to the attic -chamber, and supplemented Job’s message with: “You’d never think of -saying nay now, Pam, my dear. Ain’t it Providence you should just have -been fitting on? And, oh, to be sure, was there ever so pure lovely a -gown? You’ll be the belle o’ the ball, my dearie, that you will, and -easy!” - -Pamela never hesitated at all. She caught her travelling-cloak off the -peg, and lifted her best feathered hat from its bandbox--how could a -milliner resist such an opportunity?--pinned it on her auburn curls, -cast herself headlong down the stairs, out through the farm kitchen -like a whirlwind, and laughing, swung herself up on the curricle beside -the grinning Joe. - -She was rather taken aback when this latter halted outside the farmyard -gate, and a portly figure appeared from the shadow of the oak tree. Hat -in hand, Sir Jasper pleasantly saluted her. - -“Why, Miss Pounce, this is capital. Your father and mother vowed you’d -never come, but I said I was sure so good a daughter would be obedient -to her parents. Nevertheless”--he was climbing up beside her in the -high seat, while Job shut the gates behind them--“I was ready, you see, -to exercise a neighbour’s persuasion, should you persist in your cruel -resolve. The ball would be nothing without you, ’pon honour. There are -half a dozen fine young bucks with faces as long as my whip-handle -already.” - -By this time Job was up on the back seat, and his master started the -chestnuts at a pace that only his own pride and temper would have urged -upon them. - -“Oh, la!” cried Miss Pounce, and made a clutch for her hat. She drew -the pure keen air into her lungs, felt the wind of their passage blow -with the most delicious invigoration against her face. “Oh, la! Was -there ever anything so beautiful? ’Tis the first time I have driven by -moonlight. ’Tis the first time I have ever driven in a curricle! Oh, -’tis like flying, Sir Jasper! Oh, what a night! I vow I feel like a -bird!” - -The moonlight flooded the road, hedges and trees sparkled and shimmered -white as diamonds. The sky was one mighty sapphire, darkly, wonderfully -blue. The stars, fainting in the moonlight, looked like the thousand -facets of a jewel. - -“Oh,” cried Pamela again, “I’ll make a head out of it for the opera, I -will indeed! Sapphire blue ribbands and frosted silver feathers. ’Tis -an inspiration.” - -This gave Sir Jasper his opening. - -“Why,” said he, “’tis a monstrous pity such a monstrous fine girl as -you should have to work for her living. The moment I set eyes on you -this morning, said I to myself----” - -Pamela interrupted: - -“Keep your pity and your compliments, sir. They’re wasted on me.” - -“Why, how now, I like your spirit. I vow, my dear, ’tis you are wasted -on such a life.” - -“What if I like my work, sir?” - -“You were born to wear ’em--the fine hats--not to make ’em. You were -born to be a lady, that’s what I said to myself the moment I clapped -eyes on you this morning.” - -“Foh! I know ’tis gentlemen’s way to start this kind of silly talk -whenever they get with a poor girl, but I assure you, sir, I’ve no -relish for it. And as for my being a lady, I’ve seen too much of -gentlefolk. I wouldn’t thank the Lord to ha’ made me one.” - -She spoke with her head up and a straight back. - -“’Tis but gentlemen’s way,” she repeated to herself; “but I’ll let him -see he’ll have to respect me, lady or no lady.” - -She gripped the rail of the curricle, not to give herself courage--for -she had no thought there was anything to fear--but to brace herself -the better against any further presumption. She was quite unprepared, -therefore, when he turned his bloods away from the road leading -to Standish Hall, and, with a flourish of the whip, sent them -helter-skelter up the hill on the London causeway. - -The cry she gave was one more of anger than of fear. A solitary -pedestrian, coming at a swinging pace along the road which led from Sir -Jasper’s residence, heard it, and beheld the curricle as it topped the -hill, fantastically silhouetted in black against the moonlit sky. He -gave an answering shout, and started running. But he had as much chance -of overtaking the gig as if it had been a bird on the flight. He gave -up, panting, after a yard or two, stamped his foot, shook his fist at -the radiant sky, and started running again in the opposite direction. - -“Where are you taking me to?” - -Sir Jasper’s teeth and his eyeballs flashed horribly in the silver -light as he smiled upon Pamela. - -“You’ll be uncommon grateful to me one day, my pretty little milliner.” - -“Good Heaven, what do you mean, sir?” - -“I dare swear you ain’t so far from being grateful now. Oh, aye! ’Tis -the regular thing to set up a hullaballoo, but I’m not to be taken in -by any tushery, and so I tell you! You may scream till you’re blue, -there ain’t a soul on the roads to hear you, and as for kicking, -’tain’t easy on a curricle, so, like a girl of sense let’s pretend -you’ve had your vapours, and you and I will have a glorious time -together. Why, who was talking of silver feathers? ’Tis golden chains -I’ll give you, my splendid child; aye, and a pearl each for your pretty -ears--I can’t see ’em under your hat, but I dare swear they’re pretty -like the rest--and maybe a diamond brooch for your kerchief. And you -shall have a house of your own and a pair of fine London maids to wait -on you, and I’ll take you about, my dear, and you will have naught to -do in the world but enjoy yourself.” - -She listened in dead silence till he had finished, and then without -condescending to reply to him, turned her head over her shoulder, and -hailed the groom. - -“Job Stallion, Job Stallion,” she said, “your father was reared on my -father’s land. Will you see a Kentish girl carried away to perdition -against her will, and not lift a finger to save her?” - -“Job Stallion,” said Sir Jasper, snatching a pistol from the seat -beside him, “if you unfold your arms you’re a dead man.” - -Then Sir Jasper and the yeoman’s daughter stared into each other’s -eyes, each drawing long, fierce breaths through dilated nostrils. -Suddenly he laughed and dropped the pistol back into its holster. -Again he sent his whip circling. The horses broke into a canter on the -downward slope, the light-hung vehicle swaying and leaping behind -them. The very intensity of their speed saved them from stumbling. - -At length Pamela said in a low voice: - -“At least I have a right to know where you are taking me.” - -“Did I not tell you? To London.” - -“You do not think I am so simple as to believe you can drive to London -with these horses to-night?” - -“Why, of course not. We’ll stop at Ashford, and get a chaise and four -of the best posters money can hire. We’ll be in London to-night, never -fear. Hark, there’s nine of the clock striking from Catterford Hill.” - -He pointed with his whip. Pamela saw the square tower of the little -church silver and black against the sky. A lump rose in her throat. -For the first and only time that night a burst of hysterical weeping -threatened to overwhelm her. - -“I’m lost,” she said to herself, “if I don’t keep brave. If I don’t -keep my head, I’m lost.” - -No strong soul ever cries vainly on courage. The anguish passed, her -spirit rose. - -“Sir Jasper Standish,” said she, “why are you running away with me? -Tell me that.” - -“Won’t you believe I want to make a lady of you?” - -“No.” - -“Well, then, the mere sight of that handsome face of yours this morning -has made me mad in love with you. Will you believe that?” - -“Neither the one nor the other, sir. You see,” she went on, “I am not -kicking nor screaming, I am in your power, and I can’t help myself. I -think you’d find it better for yourself, sir, and better for me, if -you’d tell me the truth.” - -Her quiet tone, the perfect composure of her face, very pale and lovely -in the moonlight as she turned it upon him, struck some faint spark of -generosity. - -“By Heaven!” said he admiringly. “You’re a well-plucked one. The -truth you want. Split me, ’tis all true! But you’re right, there’s yet -another reason. I want to win a wager, my little darling!” - -“What wager, sir?” - -“You.” He grinned at her. “That spark of yours--he is a spark of yours, -ain’t he?--that fine young fellow, Jocelyn Bellairs, he wagered you -were too virtuous for a man to have a chance with. But I wagered him -you wasn’t. Come now, you’re a good-hearted piece. Help me to win my -wager, and I’ll make it worth your while.” - -Pamela reflected profoundly. Then she gave a little laugh. - -“Why, Sir Jasper!” she exclaimed. “What sad, wild creatures you -gentlemen are! It comes to this, then. I’ve got to make the best of -a bad job.” Then she swallowed hard, and said, with a still more -sprightly air, “You’ll give me a bit of supper at Ashford, I suppose, -for I’m mortal hungry.” - -He broke into hoarse laughter, and cried again that, by Heaven, she was -a well-plucked one, and they’d get on first class; that she should have -the finest supper the Bear Inn could afford. If she’d stand by him, by -Jingo, he’d stand by her. There wasn’t a gentleman in England who’d be -such a friend to the woman who trusted him as he would be to her. - -When they arrived at Ashford, she demanded, with a sudden air of -command, which became her, he thought, mightily, and tickled his -already high good humour to positive hilarity, that she should be -brought to a sitting-room and partake of the meal in privacy while the -post-chaise was being got ready. - -“And,” quoth she, “let it be champagne, Sir Jasper, since”--she gave -him a wide, taunting smile--“’tis to be made worth my while.” - -He flung an arm about her the moment the waiter had withdrawn; she -freed herself with a vigorous thrust, but as she did so, she laughed. - -“Nay, drink your sillery, sir. Aye, pour me a glass. Oh, aye, I’ll -drink any toast you like. Have you not said it yourself? I’m the -best-natured girl in the world--so long as you keep your place, sir. -Why, ’tis the finest pigeon-pie I’ve tasted since Paris. You know I was -in Paris, Sir Jasper?” - -Sir Jasper chuckled, winking at her. - -Her fingers clenched round her knife, the while her smile would not -have misbefitted the lips of a Bacchante. - -“And will you bring me to the opera, Sir Jasper? Oh, and to Ranelagh? -Oh, to think of me going to Ranelagh on a gentleman’s arm, like a lady!” - -He was enraptured. He tossed the remainder of his tumbler down, and -filled himself a third, emptying the bottle. He had almost forgotten -the wager in the intoxication of his personal triumph. Dash it! It had -not taken him long to cut out young Bellairs. What a demnition handsome -piece she was. There wasn’t one of those raffish ladies he had left -behind him at Standish Hall could hold a candle to her. And odds his -life! What a pair of eyes she had, and what teeth, and what a skin! - -Suddenly she dropped her knife and fork. - -“Sir Jasper,” said she, with an air of great gravity, “I’ll not go a -step farther with you unless you do something for me.” - -“Name it, my dear.” - -“Why, sir, send Job back with a letter to my parents. And ’twill be the -best for yourself, I can tell you, as matters stand. My father wouldn’t -let the king rob him of his daughter without a fight.” - -He stood staring at her doubtfully, his wide nostrils scenting mischief -like an irritated bull; she went on very quickly, “I’ll not go a step -farther with you unless you do. Give me your tablets--gentlemen always -carry them, I know. You shall see for yourself what I write. - - “_Dear Father--don’t be alarmed, I’m going with Sir Jasper for a - wager. ’Tis a mere joke. He’s too grand a gentleman to let harm come - to me out of it.--Your loving daughter, Pam._” - -She read it to him. He went over it himself, then once more tried to -catch her to him, vowing she was as clever as she was handsome. - -“Nay, nay, nay!” She was the most imperative, tantalising creature -possible to imagine. “Now, Sir Jasper, run and give this to Job -yourself. Stay, put a guinea with it, to make the lad eager. Tell him -to ride, ride, ride, hell for leather! Isn’t that what you gentlemen -say? Hell for leather,” she repeated, laughing, as she hustled him from -the room. “Don’t come back to me till you’ve seen him start.” - -He went. That third bumper of champagne on the head of so many -potations earlier in the day, after the long, cold drive, had fairly -stupefied him. He went, because her strong will drove him, without -attempting to analyse her motive. For the moment his suspicious brain -was lulled to a kind of imbecile complacence. He went pounding forth. -As soon as the sound of his heavy steps died away on the wooden boards, -Pamela was out of the room like a dart. - -She had seen the dark pit of the back stairs gape on the passage as -they had passed along to the sitting-room. She was down it now, as -sure-footed as if it had been lit up. In another moment, past a pair of -staring kitchen sluts and a tapman, she was out in the back yard and -running along the village street. - -She always declared afterwards that she had been as one guided. She -did not pause to reconnoitre or hesitate at a turning. Fleet and light -as a shadow, she raced through the alleys of the little town, deserted -this Christmas night, till she came to a point on the main road which -she knew Job Stallion must pass on his homeward way, and then she hid -herself. - -She had not very long to wait before the beat of horses’ hoofs -resounded on the frozen ground. Hell for leather, indeed! ’Twas the -most egregious jog-trot that ever took lazy groom and unwilling horse -from warm quarters on a Christmas night! - -Job Stallion let fly a terrified oath as Pamela rose out of the ditch -and laid a hand upon his bridle. He was scarcely less alarmed when he -discovered that he had to do with neither wraith nor highwaywoman, -but with his master’s prize. She cut short his “darsents” and his -whimpering expostulations very sternly. - -“I am going to ride pillion behind you, Job Stallion, and you must whip -up that fat brute of a post-horse to something of a canter, for you’ve -got to carry me back home before Sir Jasper can overtake us. Thank your -stars, my lad,” she went on, “that the Lord has given you a chance of -redeeming the night’s work, for I tell you it would have gone hard with -any who had a hand in it. Men have been hanged for less!” - -She kept him busy with whip and spur till the old grey mare wheezed and -bucketed along the road at a pace astonishing for her years and size. - -It was somewhere midway between Ashford and Pitfold that they crossed -Mr. Bellairs riding towards them on his own rakish chestnut as if for a -race. If Pamela’s heart beat high at sight of him she did not avow her -pride and pleasure even to herself; if her bright, clear heat of anger -and triumphant determination gave place to tender, womanly emotions, -she betrayed no sign of them. She postponed explanations, and issued -instructions to Mr. Bellairs as to Job Stallion in the accents of one -who means they shall be carried out. - -“You will kindly ride a hundred paces behind me, Mr. Bellairs. I -have no notion of having my name mixed up with yours or Sir Jasper’s -this night. As for you, Job, hand me over that tablet. You can keep -the guinea for yourself. And you will drop me, if you please, in the -courtyard at Standish Hall, for ’tis not too late to join the dancers -in the barn. And I mean there shall be no talk on this night’s work, if -I can help it. - -“If you breathe a word, Job Stallion, you’ll wish you never were born, -or my father’s name not Jeremy Pounce! And as for you, Mr. Bellairs, -sir, you’ve won your wager--yes, I know all about it--so you owe me a -good turn, I think, and all I ask for is silence, silence! My father’s -a violent man, and it does no woman’s name any good--no, not even a -poor milliner’s--to be made such sport of as mine betwixt you two -gentlemen to-night. As for Sir Jasper, I warrant he’ll hold his tongue. -He don’t cut so fine a figure!” - -And so it ended. Pamela went to the barn dance, after all, and danced -in vast condescension with several agreeable young farmers. Jocelyn -Bellairs got the rector to introduce him to Mrs. Pounce, and sitting -beside that lady, made himself so agreeable that she was, as she -expressed it, quite in a twitter. Mindful of his word passed to Sir -Jasper, he did not again approach Pamela, but the gaze with which he -followed her about the long room was eloquent enough. - -When the little Pounces had nearly yawned themselves off the benches, -and Pamela’s poppet, Peg, had gone to sleep outright, her curly head -on her mother’s ample lap, it was the elegant young gentleman who -conducted Mrs. Pounce to the waiting farm cart, with as much courtesy -as if he were leading a duchess to her barouche. The moon was set. The -courtyard was fitfully illumined by torches thrust into clamps in the -wall, and by the shifting rays of the lanterns carried by the revellers. - -As Pamela, standing by the cart, lifted Peg up to her mother’s extended -arms, while Mr. Bellairs obligingly held the lantern, Sir Jasper’s -curricle wheeled slowly into the yard drawn by a pair of fairly -exhausted thoroughbreds. Without stirring from his high seat, the reins -slipping from his hands, Sir Jasper stared at the picture painted on -the night as at some spectral vision. - -“Why, here’s Sir Jasper!” cried an obsequious voice. “Three cheers for -Sir Jasper, lads!” - -Perhaps because his appearance had been as unexpected as his -disappearance, perhaps because the sight of his dreadful face of -wrath, flamingly illumined by the red glare of a torch was enough to -choke off any demonstration, perhaps because he was too unpopular a -landlord even for so many glasses of negus and so many mince-pies -to counterbalance--however it may have been, there was but a poor -response; a faint cry, that rose and quavered away. It was almost more -deadly in its effect than an execration. Sir Jasper rolled a bloodshot -eye upon his tenants and neighbours. - -“Blast you all!” he cried huskily, let himself drop from his seat, and -reeled towards the house. - - * * * * * - -On New Year’s day Pamela returned to London, and, on the day after, -a summons to Yeoman Pounce to attend at Mr. Grinder’s office in -Canterbury caused some perturbation to the inmates of Little Pitfold. -But when he returned he brought astounding intelligence. - -“You’ll never believe it, wife!” he cried from the threshold, “but the -mortgage is paid off! Buss me, mother, we’re free of our own again!” - -“Oh, ’tis our Pam! ’Tis that best of children! Oh, the surprise, -father! Oh, the slyness of it, never telling us a word! Oh, was there -ever so good a girl?” - -“Lawyer Grinder,” said the farmer, letting himself drop heavily in a -chair, “kept a close mouth. He wasn’t at liberty, those were his words, -to say who it was as had paid it off. ‘But paid off it is, and that’s -enough for you, farmer,’ says he. ‘I reckon I know whom I’m beholden -to,’ I says, ‘and I’ll tell you plain, lawyer,’ says I, ‘I’m not a -man as ’ud be beholden without it was to one who, so to speak, be but -paying back what’s due to a parent.’ At that he smiles on the wrong -side of his mouth, after his fashion, wife, none best pleased, I can -tell you. As for Sir Jasper--well, he won’t get hold o’ Little Pitfold -nohow now!” - -When Mrs. Pounce wrote to Pamela in London the letter was very full of -blessings on a good daughter. - -“And your father is so out of himself with joy, my dear, ’tis a new -lease of life.” - -And Pamela smiled as she read. Her lover, now very respectful, though -by no means less ardent, had told her the story of the wager. Who was -to say, after all, that she had not paid off the mortgage? As for the -rest, she knew when to speak and when to be silent. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -IN WHICH MY LADY KILCRONEY STRIKES A MATCH AND MISS POUNCE THROWS COLD -WATER ON IT - - -The late Lady Standish was one of my Lady Kilcroney’s earliest friends. - -When Kitty first burst upon society in the select precincts of -Bath--then the fabulously rich, unpardonably pretty, delightful, -audacious, amazing little Widow Bellairs--Julia Standish was scarce a -three weeks’ bride. - -From the very beginning Kitty’s endeavour had been to insert some -backbone into the lovely but invertebrate Julia, and once, in despair, -she had summed up the situation by exclaiming: “That ’twas like trying -to mould too soft a jelly: the moment you thought you had her into -shape, she was deliquescent again.” - -Therefore, though the connection was long and close; though Kitty, -whether as Mistress Bellairs or my Lady Kilcroney, counted no party -complete without her Julia; though, when in town together, scarce a day -could pass upon which Julia, driven by the stress of some overwhelming -emotional crisis, did not fling herself, weeping, upon Kitty’s breast, -it could not be said that my Lady Kilcroney was very ardently attached -to Lady Standish, or that her death, sad and premature as it was, -plunged her in any depth of sorrow. - -The truth was that Julia Standish, elegant and virtuous, fair to -look on and fond of feeling, belonged to the class that wear out the -affections by over-usage. The stuff of Kitty’s sturdy good comradeship -had been worn so uncommonly thin, that at the time of Julia’s lamented -death scarcely enough had been left between them to make a darn worth -while. - -Kitty liked life in a strong brew, and Lady Standish wept into her cup -so persistently that there was nothing left but salt water. - -Nevertheless, when the news of the irreparable event reached her, my -Lady, being the best-hearted little woman in the world, wept herself -for quite three minutes, and then, dispatching her Lord to see what -service he could be to poor Sir Jasper, ordered her sedan and had -herself deposited at Madame Mirabel’s in Bond Street, to order a black -bonnet and mourning mantle for the funeral. - -My Lord had set out on his melancholy errand with a dutiful concealment -of its intense distastefulness. - -He thought Jasper’s case the most confounded dreadful a man could be -placed in, and shrank, with all his Irish softness, from the spectacle -of a woe beyond his consolation. - -He found matters even more tragic than he anticipated. The last word -Sir Jasper’s incomparable Julia murmured to him, as, her hand in his, -she left him for a better world, was to remind him of his promise never -to replace her. This pledge had been exacted many times during the -seven years of their existence together, but never more solemnly than -in the hours that had preceded her demise. - -From the moment of her seizure--spasms on the lungs--to that last -breath, Sir Jasper had been in unremitting attendance. Every physician -of note had been summoned to her bedside; but, in spite of all the -resources of science, bloodings, blisters and cuppings, pills and -potions, poor Julia Standish persisted in succumbing. He was the most -afflicted of widowers! She had been the pearl of wives. No woman could -ever compare with her in the whole world again. He was a blasted man. -Console himself! he roared. That angel, that departed saint need -have put him to no promise. She might sleep in peace; her Jasper -was henceforth naught but a solitary mourner. What was left him, -indeed, but to live for his little ones, those five pledges of their -mutual affection; to rear them worthy of such a mother, and, his task -accomplished, take his broken heart to lie beside her in the grave? -“For I will be buried with my Julia,” he cried upon each fresh gush of -tears. - -“Faith,” said Lord Kilcroney to his Kitty, describing the scene to her -when they met again, “she’s dropt her mantle upon him with a vengeance. -Wasn’t it the watering-pot you used to call her, me darling? The poor -lady. He caught me by the neck a while ago, and troth he soaked me to -the skin. ‘She was the most elegant woman!’ cries he. ‘She was that, -me lad,’ says I. ‘And the most virtuous!’ cries he, with another gulp. -‘Aye, that she was,’ cries I. And sure, Kitty, if ever a poor soul made -virtue tedious and dismal----” - -“Hush, hush!” my Lady Kilcroney interrupted. “Speak no ill of the dead, -sir. Poor Julia, she was a fond, foolish creature, but she was an old -friend, and, ’pon honour. Denis, I’m crying for her myself. ’Tis but -fitting indeed, that Sir Jasper, who was a sad, bad husband, my love, -and would have given any woman red eyes, should mourn her now.” - -“’Tis the frantickest widower I ever met. Mourn, quotha! ‘How shall -I survive?’ is all his cry, and to see him going on that way, you’d -scarce give him a sennight.” - -“Psha!” said Kitty. “Such frantick fits never last. I give him a -sennight, my Lord, to--to dry his eyes and look about for number two.” - -“’Pon me honour, Kitty, you’re out of it! Didn’t she extract a promise -from him, the dying angel, that he’d never look at woman again, and as -for marriage----” - -“And if that isn’t Julia all over!” cried Kitty indignantly. “And he -with five children! A man of Sir Jasper’s temperament! Tush! Pooh! And -were I on my death-bed, Denis, ’twould be the last of my wishes to lay -such a monstrous bit of nonsense on your spirits. Why, ’twould be but -tempting you to perjury. Yes, you--or any other man. ‘Look out for a -well-bred creature, pray,’ I would say, ‘and a healthy, that she be -kind to our little Denis, and pick her sensible, for the Lord’s sake.’ -Now, Sir Jasper, mark my words ... I give him a week to bellow, and, -after that--observe me--he will be found at such common, low places as -a cockfight, or a bruising match, with a kerchief high about his neck, -and a hat down on his eyes. And he will, like as not, make expeditions -to Bristol and Plymouth, where he is less known, and where a man may -attend a bit of sport without his friends’ eyes upon him. Do I not -know your masculine ways, my Lord? And by and by he will be found at -the clubs, at the cards, and the betting; and however lugubrious he -may show his countenance, and however sadly he may heave his sigh when -he first appears, ’twill wear off marvellous! And oh, and oh,” cried -Kitty, breaking into wrathful laughter, “then there will be never such -a buck on the town, nor one with such an eye for petticoats, as your -disconsolate widower!” - -“’Tis a biting tongue ye have in your head, me darling,” said -Kilcroney, half admiring, half displeased. - -“Before the year is out,” concluded my Lady triumphantly, “’twill be -the duty of all his friends, aye, and of poor dear Julia’s, who care -for the welfare of her children, to see that he is safe wed. I shall -look to it myself, I owe it to the memory of poor dear Julia!” - -Kitty broke off. Her glance roamed. A frown corrugated her white -forehead. Kilcroney saw that she was mentally seeking, among all her -acquaintance, for a substitute with the desired qualifications. - -About the time of Sir Jasper’s bereavement, that distinguished peer, my -Lord Ongar, put off this mortal coil. The title and fortune passed to a -nephew, and it was found that his widow, and the daughter who was yet -too young to have left the parent nest, were singularly ill-provided -for. My Lady Ongar, who was a Frenchwoman, was in poor health; and much -sympathy was felt for her situation, as well as for that of the little -Lady Selina, who, on the threshold of presentation to the world, found -herself suddenly at so great a disadvantage. It was true that both her -sisters had made good marriages; one to Lord Verney, who had a house in -town as well as country property; the other to Squire Day, of Queen’s -Compton. But then, as Kitty Kilcroney said, who, that had a heart in -her breast, could suggest placing a high-spirited girl under the charge -of Susan Verney? “For sure, my dear, somewhere back there must have -been a slave-driver among her ancestors. And as for Nan Day, was she -not lost in domestic bliss? and no one ought to expect pretty Selina to -bury herself in haycocks and babies--other people’s babies!” - -It was owing to the Viscountess Kilcroney’s influence that the young -lady was offered a post about the Princess Augusta, the second of the -bevy of beautiful Royal Princesses; for, since assuming her duties -as Lady-in-Waiting to Queen Charlotte, Kitty had vastly pleased Her -Majesty in that capacity. - -Not indeed that my Lady Kilcroney, who now had her own personal -experience to go by, approved of Court life as a career for any young -unmarried female. ’Twas monstrous cramping, she declared to those -who had her complete confidence; and the Royals, perfect beings as -they were, and gratifying as it was to be chosen to serve them, had a -fashion of very naturally considering themselves paramount, and their -favour the chief benefit of existence. - -“I’ll not have the child’s youth sucked out of her,” quoth my Lady, in -the strict privacy of her chamber, to the grunting Denis, who himself -disliked the Court and all its ways with a large intolerance, born -of its demands on his Kitty. “But a year, my love, ’twill give her a -certain stamp of elegance. We can scarce look for a very great marriage -for our Selina, with never two farthings in her pocket, but there are a -vast of pleasant gentlemen of the second rank who water at the mouth -at the thought of anything favoured by Royalty.” - -It was not till Lady Selina had been some nine months in her new post, -and Sir Jasper Standish well-nigh a year a widower, that the great idea -flashed into Kitty’s mind. - -Sir Jasper was a personable man, and had not yet topped thirty-five; a -very prime age for a bridegroom with the greenness of youth cast off, -the tedium of maturity not yet as much as dawned. With your man of -thirty-five it is a point of honour to be as ready with the generosity -of youth as the lad of twenty, especially should his fancy turn to -sweet seventeen. He will have gained, however, a vast experience, and, -unless he be a fool, a seasoned judgment. Sir Jasper was no fool; and -though he had so far justified my Lady Kilcroney’s prognostications as -to be more conspicuous at any dashing sport-meeting than ever before, -he kept chiefly in the company of his own sex, and never so much as -noticed the passage of the most flouncing petticoat; and who was more -likely to know than Kitty, since she was the only lady in the world -whose society the widower now frequented? - -At first the talk would be all of his Julia; but in a little while -lamentations gave way to more cheerful discourse anent the young family. - -It was in her capacity of godmother to little Kate Standish that, a due -interval having elapsed since the loss of their ever-to-be-regretted -Julia, Kitty Kilcroney first addressed Sir Jasper on the subject of a -second marriage. She was, of course, quite prepared for the shocked -refusal which met her. - -Was it possible my Lady Kilcroney should not be aware of the solemn -vow, by which he had pledged himself to his Dying Treasure, to remain -ever faithful to her memory? - -My Lady Kilcroney was very well aware of it. Heaven knew, she -exclaimed, rolling her pansy eyes towards the ceiling of her -drawing-room--she was for the while free of her Court duties, and was -established in the Hertford Street mansion--Heaven knew, if ever there -was anyone in the world who could appreciate what a second marriage -meant to a true mourner it was she! When Bellairs went--“Ah, you never -knew my first, Sir Jasper! The most excellent, the most estimable, -the most generous and noble-minded of men. There was not a condition -in his will, I do assure you! Everything, everything left to me! ‘_My -dearest wife, Kitty, in token of the perfect happiness she gave me._’ -Those were his words, Sir Jasper. But a year’s happiness, alas! and he, -poor seraph, scarce able to endure anyone in the room with him with -the gout so cruel settled in his joints that, if you’ll believe me, -his feet were like nothing so much as warming-pans, and his hands--my -poor Bellairs’ hands, why, there were days when he could not have borne -that a butterfly should settle on them! When my cherished martyr was -released from his sufferings, did I not, like you, vow in my heart that -I never, never would replace him?” - -Here Kitty fixed her eyes upon Sir Jasper’s lugubrious countenance, -and, positively, though her tone was filled with such pious melancholy, -they twinkled. - -“I fail to see the analogy, my Lady Kilcroney,” said he huffily. “My -Julia was as young as she was fair, as elegant in form as she was -virtuous in character.” - -“True, true, Sir Jasper! Bellairs became, very shortly after our -espousals, a wreck, an absolute wreck. But he retained the most -admirable amiability of temper. ’Twas indeed that which first drew my -heart to him. ‘My dear,’ he said to me, ‘when I heard that my poor old -friend Ned had gone smash, and shot himself, and left a little daughter -without a farthing to buy a ribbon with, I cast about in my mind what -I should do to help her. And, faith, I can think of no better way, my -dear, than to make a rich widow of you.’ And then he set to laughing -in his droll, wheezing way. ‘I’m game for a year,’ says he, ‘if you -can stand the old man for a year,’ says he. ‘I’ll put you in the way -of getting the best the world can give you; honour and good repute, -and wealth and a young husband in due time--better than if your poor -father had kept out of indigo. If you’ll trust me, I’ll trust you,’ -says he. And my dear Bellairs kept his word royally. He’d never so much -as a suspicion of me; or aught but a smile for my pleasures.” Here a -tear suddenly flashed. “I’m proud to say,” cried Kitty. “I deserved -his confidence. Is there ever anything so beautiful in life as wedded -trust?” - -Sir Jasper went home thoughtful. His Julia had had every merit, but -if she had had also just the tiniest part of Bellairs’ the Nabob’s -generosity of mind, would he, could he have so often--as alas! he had! -But there were times when he had been goaded, indubitably driven, to -seek distraction. Angel as she had been, to what screaming vapours, -what swoons had she not treated him? How often also--here he held -his head higher, and made a knowing thrust at a door post with his -gold-headed walking-stick as he went by--had she not suspected the -vilest deeds when he had been as innocent as the lambs in the field? - -“You cannot,” said Sir Jasper, sapiently to himself, as his marital -crimes appeared before him suddenly transmogrified into peccadilloes. -“You cannot be said to betray a trust that has never been reposed in -you.” - -Next time my Lady spoke of matrimony to the bereaved, it was in the -tone of one who regrets a rash determination, but recognises its -binding quality. - -“What a pity, Sir Jasper, you should have been led into such fond -folly! To take such a vow! Irrevocable of course. Who would have the -dreadful courage to suggest the breaking of a pledge to one who is -now among the saints. What if a father’s duty points one way? that -death-bed obligation sternly points the other.” - -She pitied Sir Jasper--she did indeed. How was a man, and he so young, -to deal with five children, and they with all the difficulties of life -before them; character, education and--heavens!--illnesses? Measles -and mumps, hectics and whooping coughs, and all the rest of it! “Poor -Julia, could she but see now to what her intemperate passion for you -has led! If our Julia had a fault--dare I say it, Sir Jasper?--she was -a little, leetle inclined to jealousy.” - -When Kitty returned to Queen’s Lodge, to take up service with Her -Majesty, Sir Jasper and she had come to discussing very freely the kind -of person who might be regarded as worthy to fill their dearest Julia’s -shoes. - -Kitty was full of suggestions, but, one way or another, the paragons -enumerated by the lady were never to the gentleman’s taste. - -When Lady Selina joined the Court circle, she was, if truth be told, -the very last young female whom Kitty could in conscience have selected -as a fitting companion for a widower of Sir Jasper’s kidney, or the -proper kind of stepmother to his peevish brats. Nevertheless when the -idea came, it was with the brilliant conviction of a flash of lightning. - -Selina Vereker was not dark and masterful like Susan Verney, nor was -she soft and warm-hearted, all feminine impulse and charm, like Nan -Day. She was a bold piece, Kitty had decided from the first, with a -short nose and a short temper, and hair under her powder as blazing -as Sir Jasper’s own, and a grey eye that possessed a certain cold, -reflective audacity which made Kitty thoughtful. She was a judge of -minxes. Withal the creature if not pretty, was mighty attractive; with -a little head on a white throat, and a way of tossing it; slim, long -limbs like a boy, and a freedom of movement inside her voluminous -skirts that was almost unbecoming to her sex. And the tiresome child -was in a hundred scrapes, and in Royalty’s black books before she had -been a fortnight at her duties. This was unpleasant for Kitty, who -had recommended her. And, as she had a kind heart, it filled her with -apprehension for the future. For if anything so awful were to happen -as that Selina should fall into serious disgrace and be dismissed from -Court, what in the world would become of her? So poor, so naughty, and -so innocent; with a pair of selfish sisters, and her mother retired to -a convent! Why, with Royal displeasure upon her, never could she hope -to ally herself to a genteel family! - -Sir Jasper! Was not the man to her hand? He deserved a wife with some -fire in her, after having so long endured the deliquescent Julia, and -he deserved too, sad rake that he was, something with a temper of her -own to keep him to attention and in his place. - -“To heel, sir, or beware, there are other fine fellows in the world who -are ready to appreciate what you have the bad taste to neglect.” - -Her mind made up, Kitty set to work with a transparent artifice, to -which only the blundering male would fall a prey. - -“Pray come to tea, to-morrow, sir--or stay, perhaps better not, for I -have Princess Augusta’s Maid-of-Honour, the little Selina Vereker, and, -oh no, I would not for the world that you should meet!” - -“And why, pray?” - -“La, Sir Jasper, and you on the look-out for a new Lady Standish! You -might fall in love with her, to be sure.” - -“And what then, my Lady Kilcroney?” - -“Oh, Sir Jasper, Sir Jasper, that would never do!” - -“And why not, ma’am?” - -“But eighteen, sir.” - -“I see no objection there.” - -“Fie, Sir Jasper, and you turned thirty-six!” - -“But thirty-five my last birthday, ma’am, as I’m a sinner.” - -“A sinner, indeed, Sir Jasper, and now you have it. What? Would you, -sir, mate with innocence, guilelessness; lamb-like light-heartedness, -and sprightliness; you with----?” - -“Come, come, my Lady Kilcroney. I’ve not been a model husband, I dare -say.” - -“I dare say not, sir. Heavens, my poor Julia!” - -“Your poor Julia, ma’am, would have driven a saint--Pshaw! She was too -good for me!” - -“Believe me, sir, you should wed a young lady of some experience, if -not a widow; a staid female, sir.” - -“Thank you, my Lady, I’m vastly obliged, I’m sure.” - -“And you so jealous, Sir Jasper, who could scarce even trust virtue’s -self, in the shape of Julia! La, to think of you with Selina--such -beauty, Sir Jasper; such grace, such charm, so ready to take the -pleasure of her years, so pure ignorant of the world’s ways.” - -“Good heavens, my Lady Kilcroney, if I do not come to your tea-party -to-morrow, ’twill be that I am a dead man.” - -“Do not say you were not warned,” said my Lady, and had the laugh of -scorn to herself to see with what conquering airs Sir Jasper glanced at -himself in each mirror when, departing, he crossed the long length of -her drawing-room at Queen’s Lodge. - -The pretty Maid-of-Honour and the already foresworn widower duly met -over Kitty’s bohea, next afternoon. Sir Jasper duly fell head over -heels in love; and before the week was out, they were engaged to be -married. Royalty approved, my Lady Ongar gave her consent with tears of -joy; and both Susan Verney and Ann Day sent cool sisterly sanction. - -Having secured her victim Kitty prepared herself to enjoy every -moment of the delightful process of decking her for the sacrifice. -What woman but does not feel that in the trousseau lies the true -inward satisfaction of the bridal state? To a benevolent heart -like my Lady Kilcroney’s the choice of Lady Selina’s garments, the -proper expenditure of the funds entrusted to her for the purpose by -the widowed mother offered a task in which duty went hand in hand -with delight. Generous soul that she was, she promptly decided to -supplement the Dowager’s exiguous allotment by a contribution of her -own: secretly, so as not to hurt the poor child’s feelings, but -to an extent which should in her estimation befit the wedding of a -maid-of-honour under the protection of the Lady Kilcroney. - -Needless to add that to bring Selina to Pamela Pounce was almost the -first of her desires as self-elected Fairy Godmother. Who but Pamela -indeed, could set out a Bride so that her appearance on the great -morning should be an event in the world of Fashion? Pamela under -Kitty’s instructions--there never was such a combination of intellect! - -My Lady Kilcroney as she drove up through the bright sunshine from -Windsor was filled with anticipations so agreeable and exciting that -she had little thought to spare for the silence and irresponsiveness of -the girl beside her. - -Selina had a delicious little countenance, even though she was sulking -heavily; so when her glance strayed reflectively upon her my Lady found -nothing in the contemplation to disturb her equanimity. - -It was the first time in its annals that the House of Mirabel beheld -a carriage with the Royal liveries halt before its portals, and the -flutter in its discreet walls was indescribable. - -Madame Mirabel herself catching sight of the scarlet splendour, through -the first floor window, was seized with the trembles, and had to send -Miss Clara Smithson for a glass of ratafia out of the back parlour -cupboard before she could control her limbs sufficiently to walk -downstairs. It was true that her immense agitation was promptly allayed -by Miss Polly Popple, who put her head in at the door to say: - -“It’s only my Lady Kilcroney after all, what’s brought a pale Miss -for a wedding hat. So don’t you put yourself about, Madame Mirabel, -and Miss Pounce that cool it don’t look as if her opinions were what -they ought to be, and gracious goodness where is the roll of silver -ribbon came from Lyons? I laid it out of my hand, Clara, when I ran up -a while ago about Mrs. Lafone’s bill, and him giving all sorts in the -showroom. I wouldn’t be married to an elderly gentleman what’s miserly -not for--where’s the silver ribbon for mercy’s sake? There’s the bell -going after me like mad. Thank you, dear. Don’t put yourself about, -Madame Mirabel--who ever told you it was the Queen! It’s only my Lady -Kilcroney--drat it, there it goes again--I’m coming.” - -Pamela Pounce had caught a glimpse of Kitty’s dainty profile behind -the misleading scarlet as the Queen’s barouche halted; and it was with -her usual graceful self-composure that she swam forward to curtsy to -her patroness. Four steps and a nicely graduated obeisance, with just -an undulation which included my Lady’s companion, Pamela had a perfect -command of the correct attitude. Then she waved her hand. - -“Chairs, Miss Popple. Pray be seated, ladies.” - -Then, with a pretty spring of alacrity in manner and voice, a most -respectful yet delightfully confidential approach to familiarity: - -“And what can I show your Ladyship to-day?” cried she. “There’s the -sweetest head, a twist of cherry tulle with a bunch of green grapes, -just come from Paris--made for your Ladyship.” - -Kitty waved the tempting suggestion on one side. “Nothing for me -to-day, my dear creature. I’ve brought Lady Selina.” - -Selina, who had entered, stood and sat down like an automaton with -every reason to be dissatisfied with its surroundings, here gave her -patroness a steely look of enmity, and then cast down her eyes so that -their long eyelashes cast a shadow on her white cheek. - -Pamela appraised the small set face and Kitty proceeded to expound; -“The fact is, Miss Pounce, I am here with Lady Selina for a wedding -order.” - -“Indeed, my Lady.” - -“Yes, indeed,” cried Kitty, warming to her subject, “the wedding hat, -no less, child, and the going away! Oh! And a head for the dinner party -I mean to give in honour of the engagement. Princess Augusta has -promised to attend. And the wedding is to take place from my house in -Hertford Street, Pamela, the very moment May is over. What with my Lady -Verney having a feeling about the mourning, and my Lady Anne Day so set -about with measles in her nursery, there isn’t anyone as near to this -dear girl as myself, if it’s reckoned by old friendship.” - -Here Kitty paused for breath and after duly waiting for Lady Selina to -express some acknowledgments of these handsome sentiments, Pamela, in -the young person’s persistent mutism, was fain to remark that there was -no one like her Ladyship for kindness, that she knew. And though this -was but a deferential murmur, there was conviction in it. Pamela had -every reason for this testimony. - -Kitty glanced askance at the bride’s most unbride-like countenance; she -faintly shrugged her shoulders. None of the Verekers had good tempers -and she was not going even to notice Selina’s moods. - -“A wedding hat.” - -Pamela pondered upon the bride, while her quick brains worked. - -(“Dear to be sure, the poor young lady! One would think ’twas her -funeral things they were getting together. Who are they going to marry -her to? And why is my Lady Kilcroney managing it all, and that mortal -tickled?) I wouldn’t recommend white satin for my Lady Selina,” she -said out loud, “though I know it’s the usual thing, my Lady. And if I -might venture, it wouldn’t do to be putting dead white next her face. -No, my Lady Kilcroney, no, my Lady Selina, not if you was to rouge -ever so and _that_ would be a thousand pities; my Lady’s skin is a -treat to look at. And it’s her _cachet_ to be pale with those dark -eyes--excuse me, my Lady, for dropping into French, it’s a way I got -into in Paris. Now I’d like lace.” The milliner spoke slowly as if -she were tasting one by one, the condiments of an exquisite dish. “A -fine brim of real lace, my lady, with a tulle lining, three layers of -tulle, and the middle one pale pink. Oh, pale, pale, pale.” Pamela -twiddled her fingers in the air, mitigating the colour till it faded -into nothingness. “The tint they’re calling in Paris, _cuisse de -nymphe émue_. Excuse me, my Lady, I won’t be so bold as to translate -it. Yes, your Ladyship, the French have droll minds! But your Ladyship -has seized the idea; not pink, but just a warmth, a lightening of -the white, ’twill be exquisite. A twist of silver ribbon to hold it -together--Miss Popple, where’s that silver ribbon that came from Lyons? -I have a model here,” went on Pamela, stooping to pull out one of the -deep drawers of the cupboard which ran the length of the room, and in -which the most special treasures in the millinery line were hidden away -from the ordinary public, only to be brought out for the favoured. “I -have a model here which is the very latest, out of Paris. It’ll never -be seen at all, so to speak, till next month, and that on a Queen’s -head.” - -Queen Charlotte’s Lady-in-waiting sprang up and tripped across the -carpet to stand by the milliner’s side. - -“It must be worth while for a female of Fashion,” my Lady was thinking, -“to have a post about Queen Marie Antoinette, always the first in the -land in modes and in looks as in everything else.” - -Now Lady Selina Vereker, hearing the two women whisper as they stood -together, lifted her eyes and watched and hearkened very intently. - -“The young lady’s just engaged I take it,” said Pamela, shaking the -tissue paper from a cobweb vision of blue tulle and lace. - -“’Twas only ratified by Lady Ongar last night, from her retreat at -Wimbledon. (They say it’s a convent of nuns my dear, but ’tis not -generally known.)” - -“Dear, to be sure, the poor lady!” - -Here Kitty lowered her voice, but Selina’s irately keen ears caught the -murmur. - -“Sadly ill-provided for. My Lord Ongar’s affairs in a desperate state. -Hardly a brass farthing between the three poor girls! A most prodigious -relief to have the third settled.” - -Then Pamela’s clear compassionate undertone. - -“I trust the young lady is happy in her choice, so young as she looks.” - -The milliner’s eye wandered to the Bride-elect and met her darkling -gaze. - -“Why, that goes without saying,” exclaimed my Lady tartly, “since I -made the match, Miss Pounce. Sir Jasper Standish is one of my Lord’s -oldest friends.” - -“Sir Jasper Standish! Good God!” Pamela started and wheeled round. She -echoed the words in accents which left no doubt as to the consternation -evoked by the name. - -Her face was reflected in the glass in front of her, and Selina had a -vision of its blasted expression of horror and disapproval. - -The next moment Miss Pounce had resumed her usual bland self-control, -and was bending over the French hat, feigning to be absorbed in -twitching its knotted ribbons into place. - -“Upon my word, Miss Pounce,” exclaimed Kitty, in high surprise and -anger. “And what have you got against Sir Jasper Standish, may I ask, -that you should couple his name with such impiety?” - -“Oh, nothing, my Lady, nothing!” - -Pamela’s hands trembled as she twitched the faint pink ribbons. -“Nothing but a bit of a business trouble between my father and Sir -Jasper, our place being all but next door to Standish Hall--I crave -your Ladyship’s pardon, I’m sure, for letting my feelings go away with -me,--but Sir Jasper was hard on father over a mortgage.” - -“Oh! a mortgage! Pish, child!” Kitty was immensely relieved, though she -could not conceal that she considered it a great liberty in a milliner -thus to obtrude her family affairs upon the notice of distinguished -clients. She had not so very high an opinion of Jasper herself, and -Pamela was a prodigious handsome girl! She had been actually trembling -over what might have come out! - -My Lady’s manner for the rest of the _séance_ comically varied between -a dignified displeasure and the overwhelming fascination exercised by -the milliner’s supreme talent. - -Lady Selina submitted to all the trying-on and listened to the -prolonged discussions with the same demeanour of angry martyrdom which -she had brought into the shop. - -“You’ve been insufferable, my dear!” cried Kitty, patience giving way -at length, as the sleek royal horses started on their homeward way. - -Selina turned her long, brilliant eyes upon her companion without -speaking. There was a pert question and an underlying significance in -them, which further exasperated the chaperone. - -“’Pon honour!” exploded Kitty, “I marvel what’s to do with you. You, -with everything the world can give you, and three as sweet hats chosen -as ever I’ve seen in my whole life! Such a picture as you’ll look, a -Bride, with your mother’s lace and all! and by the airs of you, you -might have been trying on sackcloth to go to the stake.” - -“You must remember, my Lady Kilcroney, that I am in mourning.” - -“Psha!” - -“And Sir Jasper a widower himself.” - -“And what of that, child?” - -“Oh, nothing,” said Selina. “Do you think it’s going to rain?” - -Kitty looked at her long and earnestly. Was there ever such a little -shut-up countenance, such obstinate close lips and such naughty secret -eyes? - -“I wish to Heaven,” she said, at last, “that you’d say what you’ve got -in your heart, child.” - -“Oh, I was just thinking about Miss Pamela Pounce!” - -“And what of her?” - -My Lady still uneasily remained cross. - -“Oh, I only thought she looked honest!” said the girl. And not one -other word to the purpose could my Lady Kilcroney extract from her. - -They drove into Windsor in a strained silence and separated to their -divers duties in no very cordial mood. - -Kind-hearted people in positions of authority are apt to fall into the -danger of doing good to their neighbours in spite of themselves. They -see so clearly the value of the benefits they mean to confer, that fate -having given them the power to enforce their acceptance, they do not -hesitate to wield it. With the best intentions in the world they become -tyrants. Kitty had a real desire to be of use to the orphan, and she -was quite sure that the plans she had laid for her were entirely for -her comfort and well-being. In any case matters had gone too far for -Selina, even to dream of such a catastrophe as a withdrawal of her word. - -The Maid-of-Honour had accepted Sir Jasper of her own free will. If -she had secretly repented, if she chose to sulk and make a martyr -of herself, Kitty knew better than to encourage her by seeming to -notice it. And my Lady told herself that the moods of such a chit were -of no account. She was too fresh out of the schoolroom to stand so -much promotion all together--Maid-of-Honour, Bride-elect, the pet of -royalty, all in a couple of months--a little spoilt cat, and if she -scratched Jasper ’twould but do him a vast of good. - -Nevertheless, my lady Kilcroney felt slightly uncomfortable until she -next beheld the engaged couple together. Then, indeed--it was the -next evening after their shopping drive to London, in my Lady’s own -rooms--Selina appeared to have completely forgotten her gloomy fit. The -child was in outrageous spirits, with quite scarlet cheeks, taunting -and mocking her ardent lover, till he was beside himself. - -Kitty forbore rebuke. In her relief she was full of indulgence towards -behaviour which, at another time, she would have severely reprobated. - -“My dear love,” she wrote to her husband that night. She was still -in attendance at Windsor and Denis, very much injured, was alone at -Hertford Street. “Everything is going as well as possible. Do not -forget to call on Mr. Gunter’s about the wedding cake and on Mr. -Bartolozzi about the tickets of invitation.” - -Could she have known how Lady Selina had employed the afternoon of that -very day, the poor Lady-in-Waiting would have issued very different -instructions. - -For Selina had obtained leave from her “Royal” to go to town about her -trousseau. The Princess Augusta, all blandness and good nature, offered -every facility, even to her own carriage. - -How grateful was Lady Selina! But “Oh, no, Ma’am,” she pleaded, “it -makes me feel so horrid shy! There we were yesterday, my Lady Kilcroney -and I, in one of the Queen’s barouches and every one turning round and -staring at us, and oh! so disappointed, Ma’am, not to see the Royal -faces. My mother is sending her own maid for me, and we’ll take a -chaise and Sister Verney will meet me in the town.” - -Princess Augusta looked very kindly at the child. She liked her modest -disclaimer and the little flattery it wrapped about, and it all sounded -very proper and becoming. How could she guess that Selina was lying -like a little devil, that the audacious creature would positively set -out from the consecrated precincts of Queen’s Lodge alone, take the -common coach to town and proceed on foot to Bond Street; in a kind of -disguise indeed, a plain bonnet, borrowed off a Royal housemaid, which -had a brown gauze veil to drop over her face, so that she might have -passed her own mother in the street and not been known! - -The cunning girl watched her opportunity and slipped into Miss Pounce’s -showroom at a slack moment. As she flung back her veil Pamela’s colour -changed; she saw who it was. - -Selina walked quite close up to her and the two stood a moment staring -at each other. The milliner was too acute not to feel the moment big -with importance, and too shrewd not to guess at the cause. - -“What did you mean,” said Selina then, “by saying yesterday like that: -‘Sir Jasper! good God!’?” - -Pamela was not often taken-to, but she felt herself in a most -disagreeable fix. - -“La!” she faltered. “I could have bitten my tongue out. I can only ask -your pardon.” - -“I want you to answer my question. What did you mean?” - -Pamela, who had been growing pale, grew paler. - -“Father had trouble with him over a mortgage.” - -“Oh, tush with your mortgage! That’s only a bit of trumpery. It wasn’t -the mortgage. You know something of Sir Jasper.” - -The milliner hesitated: then she tossed her head. - -“And if I do, my Lady? There! There ain’t anything for you to suspect -me about, I do assure you.” - -“Oh, I don’t suspect you!” cried Selina wildly. “I see you hate him! I -hate him myself! I haven’t anyone to help me. What do you know of him?” - -“Nothing that would count as against a gentleman’s honour,” said Pamela -bitterly, recalling, with an inward shudder, the vile trick that had -been played upon her, and the narrowness of her escape. - -Selina caught the working-woman’s two capable hands. - -“I won’t get you into a scandal! I know you’ve got your bread to earn. -I’ll never mention your name or let anyone guess! I promise! I promise! -Look here, I’ll put it differently: if you were me, would you marry Sir -Jasper Standish?” - -Pamela drew a long breath and the truth leaped. - -“I’d see myself dead rather!” - -The absurdity of the phrase did not detract from its effectiveness. - -“Ah!” cried Selina. “Thank you! That’s all I wanted to know.” - -She wrung the hands she had caught, whisked her veil over her flushed -countenance and turned to leave. On the threshold of the shop she -paused and flung back a quick reassurance. - -“Don’t be afraid. I’ll never betray you!” which Miss Polly Popple, -overhearing, promptly carried to the awestruck ears of Miss Clara -Smithson. - -“There’s a low-class girl just been in the showroom blackmailing -Miss Pounce and gone off Heaving knows with how much hushmoney! ‘I -won’t betray you,’ says she. And Miss Pounce looking after her, that -distraught; you’d think she’d seen a ghost.” - -“Ah! my dear,” said Miss Smithson. “Retribution is gathering over that -abandoned creature’s head.” - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -IN WHICH IS MANIFEST THE HAND OF THE SAINTED JULIA. - - -“Oh, my Lady Kilcroney, I haven’t a moment! The most dreadful thing has -happened!” - -Selina Vereker stood before the astonished Kitty. She was robed for -Court ceremonial and looked a very splendid young woman in brocaded -whites and silver laces. Her hair was full dressed and spread mightily -in wings and curls. In her hand she held a posy of pink roses. But -against all this elegance, the small countenance looked troubled; it -was, indeed, contorted like that of a child about to cry. - -“I haven’t a moment,” she repeated. “The Princess Augusta expects me to -attend her to the Duchess of Hampshire’s ball, and even now she will be -waiting for me. But oh, my Lady, oh, my Lady, I thought I must run in -to tell you--Sir Jasper has broken with me!” - -“Never say so, child! And the marriage for next Monday as ever was!” - -My Lady Kilcroney was in the long, narrow parlour which formed part -of her set of rooms in St. James’s Palace. She, too, was in full fig; -a marvel of glistening white, with the fashionable purple trimmings -that proclaimed attachment to Royalty. The Bellairs diamonds shone on -her throat and bodice, and diamonds shot from every angle of her piled -and flying curls. At the Maid-of-Honour’s words she shook and sparkled -and quivered in all her finery, looking like some magic tropical bird -spreading out wings for battle. - -“The Princess Augusta is waiting for me!” cried Selina, and sobbed. - -“Let her wait,” quoth Kitty fiercely. She had enough familiarity with -the Royals now to appreciate the fact that, after all, they were but -human beings. - -“What has happened? Sit there and tell me this moment. Sir Jasper -break off his engagement! Some fantastick of jealousy, sure. The man’s -mad! Why, ’tis but this morning you showed me that wonderful knot of -brilliants he gave you, child, on your complaining you had no fancy for -a dead woman’s jewels.” - -Selina let herself fall into the chair indicated, and hid her face in -her hands. - -“Oh, the disgrace!” she moaned. - -“It shall not be,” stormed her patroness. “You’ve dropped your roses, -child.” - -“What, the roses? How--did I still hold them? Oh, my Lady, the roses, -’tis they undid me!” - -“Your roses undid you? Talk plain, in the name of common sense.” - -“The roses undid me, Madam,” said Lady Selina, lifting up her head to -grind her teeth at Kitty, as that lady said afterwards, for all the -world like her little Denis at ten months old with the double ones -coming. “How should I know that when the beautiful pink roses arrived -they were not from Sir Jasper? and oh, my Lady, he came storming into -my parlour, demanding to see me, and I scarce out of the hands of -Monsieur Achille and going in to him in my wrapper, I do assure you, -not knowing what prodigious important thing he had to say to me, and -he, my Lady Kilcroney, scarce able to speak with the fierce rage. ‘The -roses,’ he says, ‘where are the roses you was to wear to-night?’ And -there they were, unpacked at his elbow before I had had time as much as -to take them in my hand. As I’m a living woman, as I hope to be saved, -my Lady, I, all innocence! ‘The roses?’ says I, and he falls upon them, -and, oh, to think of it, in the very middle rose, hidden like a snake -in the grass, was a billet. A billet, my Lady Kilcroney, I scarce know -how to tell you--from----” - -“Another gentleman?” screamed Kitty, jumping to the horrid truth. - -“Some stranger.” - -“And indeed I hope so, Miss. And what was wrote in it, pray?” - -Selina dropped long white eyelids over those brilliant curious eyes -of hers which never seemed to corroborate her lips, and, drawing an -immense quivering sigh, the corners of the same pretty lips going down -over a sob: “Oh, my Lady, the monstrous audacity of it,” she cried. -“The creature wrote--God knows who he can be-- - - ‘_If you wear these roses to-night, Beauteous Selina, your adorer - will know that; whatever happens, he may still hope._’” - -“’Pon my word,” said Kitty. - -“It seems Sir Jasper had had an anonymous letter----” - -“Ha,” interrupted the Queen’s Lady-in-Waiting. “Now lift up your head, -my love. ’Tis all a vile plot. An anonymous letter, say you? Why, now -all is plain. ’Tis some base, envious creature--Heaven knows who!” said -Kitty. “Some old flame, some wretch who wants to break the marriage for -abominable designs of her own. Psha! Was there ever a grosser scheme? -’Twould not take in a mouse!” - -“Sir Jasper will not listen to a word of reason,” complained the -bride-elect, now unveiling the fury of her eyes. “He declares that -there was guilt on my face; that he had long had suspicions of me. -He vows I have been cold to him, dearest Lady Kilcroney, and that -matters must have gone very far between me and my lover--oh, is it not -monstrous of him?--before anyone would have dared address me in such -familiar words.” - -“You need not repeat his raving to me,” cried my Lady Kilcroney -decidedly. “Dry your eyes now, and hasten to your duty. Sir Jasper -in his present mood may very well not come to the ball, but he -shall render an account of his folly in this very room to-morrow -morning, and if the marriage does not take place from my house next -Monday as arranged, I am a Dutchwoman, as complete a Dutchwoman as -Mrs. Schwellenberg. I can say no more. And I trust,” said Kitty, -soliloquising as the door slammed on the Maid-of-Honour’s exit, “and -I trust you will pay Sir Jasper back for this evening’s work in good -ringing coin, child, once you’re Lady Selina Standish. As I have no -doubt you will, my love--cold-hearted, capricious?--aye, he’s not so -far out there--and fiery tempered to boot! It will give me a vast of -pleasure to see such a buck as he proper punished and tamed!” - -She herself began the process with considerable conscientiousness next -morning in that interview which Sir Jasper was ready enough to grant. -My Lady was tired; for to be in attendance on Royalty was to make of a -ball more of a fatigue than a diversion. She was anxious, too; for the -Queen had heard that it was Lady Selina’s visit to Lady Kilcroney which -had resulted in the Princess Augusta actually being kept waiting; and -had shown displeasure at so extraordinary a breach of etiquette. - -Kitty had no explanation to offer. She would have died rather than hint -at the threatening scandal. So considerable peevishness had accumulated -to fall upon the devoted head of Sir Jasper. - -But at first that individual was beyond feeling anything save his own -anguish. He roared like a wounded bull; hit his brow till the powder -flew; thumped his chest till his vocal chords reverberated; paced the -room, declaiming in one breath that he was infamously betrayed, and -in the next that ’twas a just retribution for perjury to the best of -wives. He swore that his heart was broken; never had he loved, never -could he love woman as he loved the false, intriguing Selina. Then he -declared that the organ in question had never been mended, but lay in -fragments under the tombstone sacred to Julia. - -It was only when his passion had expended itself in exhaustion that -my Lady was able to make herself heard. Then she dissected the value -of the evidence upon which he proposed to take so outrageous a step. -She exposed the folly of his jealousy, she mocked the absurdity of the -figure he cut. - -“You have now,” she said, “lost the finest young lady in the kingdom. -You were about to contract a marriage altogether beyond what a man of -your position and birth could hope for. You a middle-aged widower, of -no particular title--what’s a baronet?--of no such remarkable fortune, -with certainly no good looks to commend you--you were about to espouse -the loveliest little creature in all the world, the Queen’s favourite, -scarce eighteen--a beauty, sir, of the first family! And on some kind -of monstrous whimsy, arising from your own bad past--oh, of that I am -quite certain, Sir Jasper--you have cast away this flower, and you have -cast away with it your good name, your good fame, your own claim to be -a gentleman! Never will that cake be eaten for your wedding with Lady -Selina Vereker, I can promise you that! Oh, she’s out of conceit with -you, poor child! ‘Only one thing I beg of you!’ she says to me. ‘Do not -ask me to look at him again, for I never, never can!’ ‘Then you shall -not,’ says I. I uphold her, sir, in her determination. ‘You’ve come -out of this business with flying colours, my love,’ I says, ‘and the -Queen shall hear the whole story.’ Fie, Sir Jasper, how you bellow! I -have one last word to speak to you, sir, aye, indeed, the very last -you shall ever hear from these lips, and that is that I scarce think -there’s a gentleman of your friends, when it gets about the clubs, who -would deem it worth his honour to cross swords with such as you.” - -She made a great flounce of silk skirts as if to withdraw, but he was -down on his knees clutching at them; to do him justice, less affected -by her threats and the picture she had drawn of his awful position than -by the realisation that he had lost his bride. Never had Lady Selina -appeared to his eyes in a light so entrancing; never did he so clearly -perceive the worthlessness of his existence without her, as in this -moment, when he believed he had lost her. His distress was so genuine, -his supplications were so heartrending, that Kitty Kilcroney could not -but let herself be mollified. She exacted every possible pledge of -future good conduct, she obtained the completest retractation, the most -abject and repeated apologies before sending for Selina. - -When this young lady appeared Sir Jasper was put to another half-hour -of torture ere he was re-admitted to favour; and even then the bride -remained cold and unresponsive, and looked with a hard glitter in her -eyes from one to the other, as if she had by no means forgiven her -betrothed, and was scarce grateful to my Lady Kilcroney for her share -in the reconciliation. - -She had that moment, she informed him, sent the parcel containing Sir -Jasper’s presents, including the betrothal ring, by a trusted hand to -his house; she vowed she considered matters vastly well as they stood; -both would yet repent a return to the old terms. - -Sir Jasper did not kneel to Selina. He behaved, Kitty thought, with a -better dignity than she could have expected and also more intelligence. -He promised perfect confidence in the future and a rope of pearls; -the most tender forbearance in all difficulties and emerald earrings; -the unswerving devotion of a manly heart and six Catalonian horses to -the finest coach woman ever drove in. He furthermore volunteered to -double his wife’s pin-money, and altogether, as Lady Kilcroney informed -her Denis afterwards, made a more graceful leg out of the business -than could have been imagined from the gross fashion in which he had -cantered in. - -Lady Selina at length allowed an inert hand to lie in his clasp, and -even permitted him to touch an averted cheek in token of her pardon; -and it was an extremely chastened buck that wended his way out of -St. James’s Palace in the direction of Bond Street, and it was a -tremendous sigh of relief that my Lady Kilcroney heaved. - -“Now child,” quoth she, “as Mr. Shakespeare hath it, ‘All’s well that -ends well.’ But do not make the mistake of keeping up your frigid airs -too long. The real way to treat the wretches is to grant a little from -time to time, and demand a great deal.” - -“I’m much obliged to you, I’m sure, ma’am, for your kind interest,” -said Lady Selina, and dropped her white eyelids over her audacious cold -eyes. - - “_There has been another elopement_,” wrote Miss Burney, the Queen’s - reader, to her sister, “_and you would never believe, my dearest - Susan, who and in what circumstances. Lady Selina Vereker was, you - know, to wed Sir Joseph Standish, that handsome widower (scarce - indeed a year widowed of his poor Julia; men are strange things! I - met her once, she was a very elegant woman). Lady Selina was, as - I say, dear Susan, to wed Sir Jasper this actual next Monday, and - my Lady Kilcroney who, as you know, hath the kind of good nature - that is for ever interfering in other people’s affairs, was to give - the breakfast at her own mansion in Hertford Street. ’Twas said - she made the match. ’Tis quite certain she recommended the young - lady at Court. She must be vastly sorry on both these accounts now. - Princess Augusta was to go to the wedding (the bride being her own - Maid-of-Honour); and altogether it is an odd, unpleasant business, as - you will hear. Last night, then, Lady Selina attended the Royals to - the Opera House. ’Twas to be her last duty of the kind, and she was - ablaze, my dear, they tell me, with Sir Jasper’s jewels. The poor man - was infatuated. I cannot but pity him. She stood behind the Princess - Augusta in the box as usual, and no one knows the exact moment of her - disappearance. ’Tis positive she was present at the beginning of the - third act. Then all attention was turned to the stage, and at the end - of it she was nowhere to be found! Conceive it, my dearest Susan, to - choose such a manner and such company, for such a proceeding! To me - it is beyond imagination; but, from the letter she left behind her, - there can be, alas! no mistake. The young gentleman for whom she has - shown her preference in so singular a fashion, is, it seems, a person - of no note at all; a mere officer of the Marines, by name Simpson, - with scarce any fortune beside his pay. The whole affair leaves one - in a state of amaze, and I verily believe the world is going mad._” - -On the morning following the fatal evening just described, my Lady -Kilcroney was awakened from very agreeable slumbers by the urgency of -Miss Lydia Pounce, who, placing a letter on the bed, begged in a tone -so important that her ladyship should wake up and read it at once, that -Kitty, omitting to scold, forthwith proceeded to obey. - -“Lady Selina’s woman also brought a large case, my Lady. I’ve left it -in the ante-chamber.” - -Kitty was in Hertford Street, making ready in sweet security for the -wedding festivities; yet not so secure but that her heart misgave her -from the first moment of the matutinal summons; it hardly needed the -mention of Lady Selina’s name to confirm her instant suspicions. Yet -she was ill-prepared, as she herself averred to all and sundry later, -for such a revelation of mixed baseness, ingratitude and idiocy. - - “_You have taken so kind an interest in my affairs, my dear Lady - Kilcroney_,” wrote the Maid-of-Honour, “_that I wish you to be the - first to hear that by the time this reaches you I shall have become - the wife of Lieutenant Simpson of the Royal Marines. ’Tis no sort of - match for me, I am well aware, but I prefer him so infinitely to Sir - Jasper Standish that, seeing no other way out of it, I have yielded - to his solicitations. You may perhaps remember that when we were with - Their Majesties at Brighton last month, there was a young man who - used to stand on the Parade and stare as we went by. That was Mr. - Simpson. From the moment I had accepted Sir Jasper--and indeed, it - was scarce fair to put such pressure on me, and me so young--I knew I - had made a great mistake. And oh, Heaven knows, how I tried to induce - him to break it off! When I had succeeded at last--for ’twas I who - wrote the anonymous letter about the roses, and ’twas I placed the - billet-doux inside the rose (I still think ’twas a very ingenious - trick), if it had not been for you all would have gone well. No one - would have blamed me, as you told Sir Jasper yourself, but you would - interfere, my Lady, and you brought it on again. And now, if you - please, will you explain matters to Sir Jasper? I am sending the - jewels to you that you may give them back. And oh, I am so glad to be - free of him, and of them, and of Court I can’t tell you! Oh, pray do - not try your hand at match-making again, my Lady, for indeed you have - no talent for it._ - “_Your obedient servant,_ - “_Selina Soon-to-be-Simpson_. - - “_I am sorry to treat my fat, good-natured Royal so. She was a kind - piece. But ’tis a vile life._” - -“And oh, oh, ’tis she is a vile piece! Simpson! Let her be Simpson to -the end and die an old woman!” - -Kitty was more outraged, more incensed, more profoundly disturbed -than she had ever known herself. Why, indeed, had she meddled with -match-making, and who would be looked on coldly over such scandal at -Court, but she? all innocence, kind heart and good nature! She had half -a mind to send in her resignation and have done with it. - -As for Sir Jasper, he was well served, for an odious, bullying, stupid -fellow, who couldn’t make himself agreeable when he had the chance of -his life! _She_ put herself out any more for him? _She_ expose herself -to the unpleasantness of breaking the news to him? Not Kitty, not my -Lady Kilcroney. - -The little woman made up her mind in a minute. She would go out of -town. It was fine April weather. Bath would be at its best. She -preferred it out of the season. - -She would pass on the jilt’s letter to Sir Jasper. Lydia should call a -hackney coach and go round with it and the jewels at once. - -“And I shall add a line,” thought Kitty, “that will prevent him from -coming to seek sympathy from me!” - - “_When you have perused the letter of Lady Selina, by this time - Simpson, dear Sir Jasper_,” she wrote, “_perhaps you will feel as - I do, that what has plucked you apart has not been either your - indelicate behaviour or the young lady’s capriciousness, but the hand - of your sainted Julia_.” - -It was fortunate that there was no one in the room to hear the awful -words that escaped Sir Jasper’s lips when he came to this. What fell -from them was the blasphemy: “Damn Julia!” - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -IN WHICH A WONDERFUL BIT OF LUCK COMES OUT OF MISS POUNCE’S BANDBOX FOR -SOMEBODY ELSE - - -Miss Pamela Pounce, having inadvertently marred a most desirable -alliance and incidentally assisted a mad elopement, told herself that -it was a sad, tiresome world in which love brought trouble to high and -low, and that the best thing a woman of intelligence could do, was to -put such stuff out of her head and be grateful that she could work. - -“Dear, to be sure,” Pamela wondered, “how did people get along at -all who hadn’t some honest occupation to keep their silly minds off -themselves?” - -’Twas only to be expected that she should have such fretful faces to -suit with heads and hats; disappointed mothers coming to complain that -Miss’s toque was the wrong shade of blue, passionate damsels vowing -that the very sight of a pink rosette made them sick. - -Pamela could read “as if it was wrote in print,” as she said herself, -the fluctuations of many an _amourette_, many a well-laid matrimonial -scheme. Where her art might help she was ready with the most obliging -disinterestedness; when failure had followed on her best efforts she -took the despite of her disappointed clients with the utmost philosophy. - -It was well that she was philosophic, for her own poor misplaced -romance was going singularly ill; so ill, indeed, that it might be said -to have dwindled down to nothing at all. - -After his tender and respectful farewell to her on the night of Sir -Jasper Standish’s Christmas ball, Pamela had hardly seen anything -more of her once too ardent admirer. She told herself that ’twas all -as it should be; he now understood the kind of girl she was; and his -present attitude showed more true affection for her than his former -light-minded persecution. - -If she had been born his equal, or if she had not been, humble as she -was, a creature of principle, what could have parted them? for if ever -there had been love---- - -Pamela was very valiant, and kept her courage up with such reflections. -And she found considerable distraction in her work, and quite a fund -of consolation in the increased success which it was bringing to her. -But when events enabled her to coax a bit of happiness to someone else, -through the witchery of her talents, it was more real satisfaction to -her than the tot of the weekly accounts. - - * * * * * - -“Hats for these young ladies, Madam? Yes, Madam.” - -“A hat for this young lady,” said Lady Amelia Vibart, severely. - -She looked disapprovingly at Miss Pamela Pounce. She disapproved on -principle of anyone whom she considered her inferior, and when a person -belonging to the working classes was presuming enough, not only to have -good looks, but to make the most of them, Lady Amelia considered it a -direct attack on the prerogatives of those destined by Providence to -hold a higher station. Only that she had been recommended to Madame -Mirabel’s shop as the one place positively, in the whole town, where -any self-respecting woman of fashion could get herself a hat to be -called a mode, she would have walked out of the showroom at the mere -sight of this creature, so tall and self-possessed, so white and -ruddy, clothed in garments that fitted an indecently fine figure to -positively scandalous nicety, a creature who moved as if _she_ were -the condescending party, and carried taper hands each side of her -waist-ribbon, not exactly akimbo, but with an air--yes, in very truth, -an air of independence. - -Miss Pounce looked at her visitors reflectively; a high-nosed, haughty, -short, stout lady, flanked on either side by two tall daughters, the -one beautiful, astoundingly so, a perfect miracle of loveliness; -and the other--plain. No doubt about that; pleasant, bright-eyed, -witty-looking, but plain. - -“A hat for Miss?” said the milliner, her glance resting upon the less -favoured but unmistakably the elder damsel. - -The high-nosed lady tossed her head. - -“Certainly not,” she said with a glare. Here she pushed the beauty -forward, “For this young lady.” - -She looked round for a chair, let herself subside on a velvet stool, -obsequiously advanced by Polly Popple, and began to talk very volubly -and pompously. - -“I have been told that you have very good taste. What can you suggest -for my daughter? Perhaps I had better tell you I am Lady Amelia Vibart. -The Duchess of Queensberry has recommended you. I am sure that I shall -find that you deserve her kind recommendation. I trust that you will. -It is not my custom to come to shops myself, I generally expect to be -served in my own house, but the Duchess advised me--this is Miss Jane -Vibart. I think you must have heard of Miss Jane Vibart.” - -She paused, inflating her nostrils and fixing an ox-like stare upon the -young woman, who really seemed quite independent. - -Pamela turned her attentive gaze upon Miss Jane Vibart. It was -perfectly true that she had heard of her, for there was a great -deal of talk in the particular distinguished circle that patronised -Madame Mirabel on the subject of the beautiful Miss Vibart. Something -superlative, overwhelming, an absolute miracle, she was proclaimed to -be; but the head milliner preferred something with a little more life -and mind in it, herself. She betrayed by no sign that she recognised -the overwhelming favour and opportunity that was here bestowed upon -her, but inclined her head sideways, after the most elegant millinery -convention, and said: “Indeed, Madam? Certainly, my Lady,” as if these -were any ordinary new customers. - -Lady Amelia snorted, took an immense breath, and burst into fresh -volubility with, if possible, an increased pompousness. - -“It is of high importance, you understand, that Miss Jane Vibart should -be suited in the finest taste, I must request you to give your earnest -attention to the matter. Stand forward, Jane, have I not already told -you to stand forward? And you, sit down, Sarah. You’re in everybody’s -way. Now, young woman, what do you suggest? I want something of -distinction; girlish, you understand, but absolutely elegant. Everyone -will be looking to see what Miss Jane Vibart is wearing. ’Tis Miss Jane -Vibart’s first appearance upon the Windsor Walk. I think it will be -very good business for you if you suit her. It will bring you a great -many orders. I trust you will consider that, young woman, and represent -it to your employer.” - -“Excuse me, your Ladyship,” said Miss Pounce, when Lady Amelia stopped -for want of breath, “I am sure, speaking for Madame Mirabel, that she -will be duly conscious of your Ladyship’s land patronage, which we -shall do our best to deserve--Miss Popple, bring me the primrose set, -if you please,” and as the assistant sped away, Pamela looked out of -the window and remarked that it was a fine day. Now it was exactly -according to the best tradition of shop etiquette that the customer’s -attention should be respectfully distracted during an enforced wait, by -some polite conversation; and, indeed, most of Miss Pounce’s ladies had -a good deal to say and a good deal to listen to, when fortune favoured -them with a quiet moment in Miss Pounce’s company, but Lady Amelia -gazed upon the milliner with an arrogance that marked her repressive -intention, and then turned her head away and told Sarah to give her -seat to Jane or the child would look a fright for the rout to-night. - -“Dear, to be sure,” thought Miss Pounce, “to see that poor piece jump -up, and her younger sister take her seat, all as if it were the most -natural thing in the world, if _that_ don’t tell a tale! I wish ’twas -the plain one I had the hatting of, I’d get some credit out of it. -Why, if you put a sun bonnet on the beauty there, she’d look out of -it, no more nor less than the same handsome doll--you’ve dropped your -_mouchoir_, Miss.” - -Pamela handed the elder Miss Vibart back her useful linen handkerchief -with a movement as deferential as if it had been the finest gossamer -and valenciennes; and that young person took it with a pleasant smile, -blew her nose in it lustily, and thrust it into her reticule, no whit -ashamed of its sensible quality. - -“That’s the girl for my money,” thought the observant shopwoman. - -What a world in miniature was this showroom of hers! Pamela had already -seen many a comedy, many a drama played out in it. Here was a case of -Cinderella on the wrong sister. A shame it was to treat a nice young -lady so, because she happened to have a little pug nose and a wide -mouth. - -“La! Miss Popple, give me that. (One would think you’d had to go to -Paris for it.) And straight from Paris it is, my Lady, and all the -trouble in the world to get it through, things being as they are over -there--as straight,” said Miss Pounce, turning up her fine eyes, “as -any confection in this establishment. The newest idea, Madam. Hat, robe -and trimmings, down to the parasol all complete, all in harmony, as you -perceive. The ve--ry lat--est id--e--a,” said the milliner, dropping -her syllables one by one, spreading the flounces and frills over a -chair and poising the hat on her clenched hand. “Ex--qui--site, that’s -the word, isn’t it, Miss? O, it will become either of your young ladies -to perfection. The embroidered lawn, very delicate, very girlish, -Madam. Absolutely correct for a young lady that’s a _débutante_. Not -white, Oh, no, your Ladyship, cream. Pull up the blinds over there, -Miss Popple.--Cream, a shade deeper than ivory, and the pale green -ribbons, the blonde, your Ladyship sees, just flung over the hat and -fastened with this bunch of primroses. Did your Ladyship ever behold -anything more fanciful and pretty? I would not put a bit of ribbon -or set another pin into that hat,” said Miss Pounce, “not if you was -to offer me a thousand pounds to do it! Oh, Paris ma’m. Yes, ma’am. -Hot from Paris if one can use such a word for a thing so cool and -April-like. Any young girl,” said Miss Pounce, not without a spice of -malice, “would be noted in such attire.” - -“O Mamma,” said Jane. It was the first time she had spoken. She was -gazing at her reflection in the mirror, crowned by the wonderful hat. -Her voice was awestruck, as if she were overwhelmed by the sight of her -own loveliness. - -Lady Amelia pursed her lips, and then with some tartness bade her -daughter turn round. As she obeyed, Miss Pounce seized the vapoury -gown and cunningly held it up against the young lady’s figure. A kind -of maternal greed obviously struggled with prudence in Lady Amelia’s -heart. She gaped meltingly, then frowned, put her finger to her lip. - -“Miss could try them all on,” insidiously suggested Pamela Pounce. - -“O Mamma,” said Miss Jane Vibart, and: - -“O Mamma,” cried her sister. “Jenny looks a perfect picture in that -hat, and I’m sure the dress is the most lovely thing I’ve ever laid -eyes on. It would be a sin and a shame not to get them for her.” - -But Lady Amelia was not so swiftly moved to decision. The garment -was tried on and the beautiful Jane was turned and twisted in every -direction; while her mother hummed and ha-ed and criticised. - -“I’m not so sure I like the green waist-ribbon, no, nor the primroses, -neither, mere hedgerow flowers. A nice artificial garden rose, now, -and a good blue taffety sash.” - -“O Mamma,” protested the plain Miss Vibart in tones of anguish. - -“I couldn’t do it, your Ladyship,” said Pamela, with a slightly -heightened colour, deftly whisking the hat from the fair head and -motioning her underling to conduct the patient back behind the screen. - -“It’s the primrose and the green--your Ladyship will excuse me--that -makes the real Parisian elegance of this gown. If your Ladyship -requires ordinary English taste, there’s Madame Flouncer’s in Clarges -Street, a very respectable firm, very respectable indeed, as I’ve heard -tell, where your Ladyship would find herself better suited.” - -“Upon my word, young woman!” spluttered Lady Amelia. - -“Yes, you may toss your old head, and sniff and snort, my Lady Amelia,” -thought the shopwoman, remaining herself quite imperturbable, save for -that deepening colour, “but you’ll not come it over me with your high -nose and your country taste, and you needn’t think it.” - -They gazed upon each other steadily for nearly a minute, then the -dowager’s glare wavered. - -“It’s an original effect of colour, I’ll say that,” she said weakly, -“and--does that parasol go with it?” - -Miss Pounce took up the minute article in question, shook out the -fringe, opened it, and held it gracefully at divers angles. - -“An ivory handle, your Ladyship perceives, cream _poult de soie_ of -the first quality, the sarcenet lining beautifully gathered, isn’t it, -Miss? a deeper shade of primrose, so becoming to the complexion, and -such a background for the powder--really as never was.” - -“An ivory handle,” said Lady Amelia, pulling a long upper lip, “and -fringe and what not! Absurd extravagance for a girl.” - -“It goes with the whole inspiration, my Lady. A cheap parasol or a -wrong colour would--Foh! would destroy it all.” - -After which Lady Amelia fell to haggling. She demanded a personal -interview with Madame Mirabel. She declared that the advantage to the -firm of clothing the beautiful Miss Jane Vibart, if not sufficient -compensation in itself, ought to make a considerable difference in the -charges made. - -Miss Pounce regretted that Madame Mirabel was not visible. Madame -Mirabel could not be troubled on these matters. She who spoke was -solely responsible for the department. She regretted that she could -not regard the favour of clothing Miss Jane Vibart otherwise than -as a business transaction. What was the price? Nothing! Twenty-five -guineas--given away! Oh, no, my Lady, she did not think she could -use up a square of her ladyship’s old Honiton instead of the blonde. -No, nor make it twenty guineas and throw in the parasol. It was -a tremendous contest. Lady Amelia haggled with a zest and energy -that spoke of long practice and an actual enjoyment of the process. -Miss Pounce’s cheeks were flaming when the transaction was at last -concluded, and she had after all gracefully conceded a reduction of -five pounds. - -(“And let it be a lesson to you, my dear,” she said to Miss Popple -afterwards. “And when you see a customer come in with that kind of an -air about her, put it up to her at once. What was the set marked at, -Miss Popple, dear? Eighteen? You don’t say? Well, let that be a lesson -to you.”) - -“And do you want nothing for Miss?” enquired the astute milliner, -turning with a kind smile to the plain girl. “I’ve a positive sweet of -a Tuscan straw with cornflowers, and a blue muslin. It would suit Miss -to a charm. Very reasonable.” - -Lady Amelia, one stout foot poised for departure--she had a high -aristocratic action suited to her nose--paused. - -“Cheap? did you say?” she questioned. - -“Miss Popple, the blue muslin and the assorted _chapeau_.” - -Lady Amelia gazed through her eyeglass and Pamela rejoiced to see that -she hesitated. Colour and sparkle had risen to the plain Miss Vibart’s -cheeks, and the flash of joy brought out all kinds of beauties; -dimples, and tiny smile waves, and an archness in the curve of that too -wide mouth over milk white teeth. - -“_Chapeau_ and _robe_,” she said emphatically, “for you, my Lady, since -your Ladyship has already so generously patronised us, and not to -disappoint the young lady, eight guineas. Pray Miss, let my Lady see -you in the hat.” - -Her hands lifted to her country straw, Sarah Vibart paused, looked at -her mother, and the light died out of her eyes. - -“Jane, you will want another gown,” muttered Lady Amelia. “And blue was -always your colour.” - -“O Mamma,” said Jane, with a smile of joy that made her for the moment -quite exasperatingly lovely. - -It was that smile that settled her in Miss Pounce’s opinion. - -“Of all the mean, unnatural girls! ’Tis a shame, I call it, a shame!” -thought she. - -If her business conscience would have allowed her, she would have -placed the Tuscan on the beauty’s head, and contrived to give the curls -a good tweak as she did so. But as it was, she masked her feelings -by handing the garments to her underling, loftily commanding: “You -carry on with the order, Miss Popple. Regretting Madam, I have an -appointment,” and sweeping majestically away. - -As she did so, she in her turn dropped a pocket handkerchief, quite a -dainty little article with an embroidered P. and a delicate edge of -lace, smelling too of the lavender with which the Kentish mother kept -her elegant town daughter liberally supplied. - -The plain Miss Vibart made a plunge and picked it up. - -“Good God, Sarah!” cried Lady Amelia, the exclamation jerked out of her -by a proceeding so very unbecoming. - -“Thank you, Miss,” said Pamela, looking into the candid green eyes, -that refused to acknowledge the rising tears. “I hope some day I’ll -have the dressing of you, and ’twill be a pleasure and privilege.” - -“Jane,” cried her mother angrily, “don’t stand staring, and if you poke -like that I might as well throw all the money into the sea. Try on -the hat this minute, and you may tell Madame Mirabel--you--you young -woman--that I consider it very impertinent of the person who presides -over the department to go away like this; a vast bit of disrespect, and -I’ve half a mind to cancel my orders. Hold your tongue, Jane. I would, -if it were not that it might hurt the Duchess’s feelings.” - - * * * * * - -In spite of Lady Amelia’s censure, it was scarce a fortnight afterwards -when a very small page boy brought a very large folded sheet to Madame -Mirabel’s shop, marked immediate, which he was enjoined to deliver -straight into the hands of Miss Pounce. This document ordered with -equal imperativeness and urgency, that Madame Mirabel’s principal woman -should instantly proceed to 6a, Queen Street, bringing a selection of -heads suitable for Miss Jane Vibart’s wear that night at the masked -ball at Hampshire House. “_It is very important that the principal -woman should come HERSELF._” This was heavily underlined. “_Lady Amelia -Vibart must insist on her personal attendance._” - -“Hoighty, Toighty,” said Miss Pounce, and stood looking down at the -page with one hand on her hip, eyelids drooping, a quizzical smile, and -a tilted chin. - -“And how’d it be if I can’t give up my Duchesses and Marchionesses -to whom I’ve been engaged for goodness gracious knows how long? -There, trot along, and tell my Lady I’ll do my best, seeing she’s so -pressing! Yes, yes. I’ll come. And shut your mouth, little boy, in the -name of Heaven, or you’ll be picked up for a frog and brought to the -Royal Aquarium.” - -Number 6a, Queen Street was a small narrow house wedged in between -two larger residences; one of those domiciles that seem made for the -impecunious fashionable. Miss Pounce serenely preceded Madame Mirabel’s -liveried porter who negotiated an alarming array of bandboxes, not -without some bumpings, up the narrow stairs, in the wake of the country -footman. On the second floor landing she ordered the important chattels -to be deposited, and bidding the porter have a hackney in half an hour, -stood a monument of composure while the country footman knocked at the -panels of the door. - -There was a clamour within, voices, among which Lady Amelia’s didactic -tones could easily be distinguished, objurgations, lamentations, sobs. -The footman invited Miss Pounce by a leer to share the joke, knocked -louder, and at an exasperated “Come in,” flung open the door. As Pamela -entered the long, dingy bedroom a silence fell. - -The beauty was sitting in an arm-chair by the empty fire-place, her -face buried in her hands, evidently in tears; the elder sister was -bending over her with a countenance of concern, while in the background -stood a frightened-looking elderly maid, her finger to her lip. - -“Come in, come in!” repeated Lady Amelia, bursting into speech. “Shut -the door. I’m sorry to have troubled you, I’m sure. No. I don’t want -the bandboxes. Miss Jane Vibart cannot possibly go out to-night. She -has most successfully contrived to make such a spectacle of herself -that I doubt if she will be able to show again for the rest of the -season.” - -“Oh, Mamma!” exclaimed the elder daughter in reproachful accents. -“’Tisn’t Jenny’s fault!” - -“You’ll not say it’s mine, I trust?” retorted a deeply annoyed parent, -and, as the beauty lifted her face, Pamela saw that it was indeed -disfigured almost out of recognition by that distressing if not -alarming complaint, the toothache. The poor girl’s left cheek was -swollen to comicality. - -Jane Vibart, with a loud boo-hoo, buried her head in her handkerchief -again, and Sally, with a championship which Pamela thought the younger -ill deserved, protested: “But Mamma, Mr. Tugwell hurt her so dreadfully -last time, that poor Jenny was terrified----” - -“Foh! I’ve no patience with her,” stormed the lady. “She’ll have to -have it out now, and ’twill hurt her a vast deal more. Provoking -creature, and it is so important, so particularly important that she -should go to-night. Well, Miss, if you lose your chance of the match -of the year, you’ve none but yourself to blame, and let that be a -comfort to you. Pray, young woman, did you not hear me say I should not -require your goods? O! I could shed tears of vexation, and it all so -neatly planned! The Duchess herself would have seen that you took the -floor with Mr. W., and says she to me: ‘The child has but to unmask -at supper, and I think we may say ’tis as good as done.’ Mr. W., his -uncle’s heir, and such a personable, worthy young man, by all accounts, -and looking to be settled. Well, well! Meeking, take Miss Jane to her -apartment, and tell Mrs. Martha to apply the leeches. ’Tis time for me -to be dressing.” - -Whether rendered irritable by pain, or overwhelmed by disappointment at -the probable loss of Mr. W., or goaded by the thought of the leeches, -certain it is that the afflicted daughter broke out with a passion -which amazed Miss Pounce so much that she turned on the threshold to -stare, and perhaps even admire. - -The beauty declared that Mamma was a nasty unkind thing, and that she -herself wished she was dead. - -“Jane!” cried Lady Amelia, in a voice of thunder. “Sarah, take your -sister away.” - -Ere the sobbing girl, advancing in three totters and a stop to gasp, -could reach the door, Lady Amelia bethought herself of a fitting -punishment which spoke volumes for the matron’s methods of education. - -“Your sister shall go in your place to-night. Yes, Jane, not another -word. I have quite made up my mind. Sarah, get ready to accompany me.” - -Pamela slipped out of the room after the girls, and was witness on -the landing of a small fraternal scene which confirmed her previous -opinion of the lovely Jane. This aggrieved maiden first nearly fell -over the bandboxes, and then was seized by such a convulsion of rage -and jealousy at sight of them, that, shaking herself free of Sarah’s -encircling arm, she slapped and pinched her sister, and then, at -Pamela’s horrified interference, dashed up the staircase to her own -chamber. - -“’Pon my word,” thought the milliner, “Mr. W. may have had the -escape of his life! A doll lined with a vixen! ’Tis the most dismal -combination. Don’t cry, Miss,” she went on aloud, as Sarah sniffed -into her useful pocket handkerchief, “don’t cry, there’s a dear young -lady! Let me come in your room with you, and see what I’ve got in these -boxes. You shall look nice to-night, or my name’s not Pamela Pounce.” - -Now Sarah’s chamber happened to be a narrow slit at the back of her -mother’s apartment, for of course Beauty had to be well lodged, no -matter how pokily plain Miss Sarah might fare. - -Nipping a bunch of bandboxes dexterously in each hand, Pamela bundled -after the astonished Cinderella into her dingy little cell. - -“As for the price, Miss, bless you,” she whispered breathlessly, with -her back against the door. “You’ll pay me when you’re married.” Then -she smacked her lips as if the dish of her choice were spread before -her. “I don’t know when I’ve took to anyone as I’ve took to you. La! -We must have candles though, your window giving on a shaft as I see, -and being, so to speak, worse than none. But I’d rather dress a lady -by candlelight, any day in the year. And what was you thinking of -wearing, Miss?” - -“O dear, I’m sure I don’t know!” cried Sarah. “My muslins are dreadful -washed out, and Mamma said I must do with her mauve Tabby made over, -for she couldn’t afford to dress two----” - -Here there came a knock at the door, and Meeking, the drab elderly -maid, entered, carrying a white silk brocade gown, powdered over with -little rosebuds. - -“My Lady says you’re to wear this, Miss Sally, and I’m mortal glad,” -added the woman, dropping her voice and looking, as if for support, at -the milliner, “that you should come to your rights once in a while! Too -bad the way this pore young lady’s put upon, Miss. There! I’ve said it -now, and I’m glad of it. Her Ladyship’s just given me notice. I wish I -could dress you, Miss Sally, I do indeed, but I’ve got to go back to -your Mamma this instant minute.” - -“Don’t you put yourself out, Ma’am,” cried Miss Pounce, sweetly. “I’ll -help your young lady with all the pleasure in life! I was just about to -show her the heads I brought on approval.” - -“Ah!” said the Abigail darkly, as she withdrew, “there’s heads enough -in this house to-night, and that’s the truth!” - -“I hardly like, though,” exclaimed Sarah, “to wear poor Jenny’s -clothes.” - -“Why, you’re a sweet creature!” The milliner shook out the glistening -folds. “’Twill suit you, Miss----” - -“Oh, my ugly face!” - -“Ugly! As far as that comes to, Miss Vibart, there’s ugly beauties, -and there’s charming--well, charming uglinesses, since that’s your own -word. I’d never call a lady ugly who’d so fine a figure, and so bright -an eye--and if your mouth is a bit wide, Miss, sure your teeth are a -picture; and if your nose is a trifle snub, there’s something so merry -and arch in the way it cocks when you smile, that I for one would not -have you different. I vow I would not!” - -Pamela was in the act of passing the Beauty’s fine gown over -Cinderella’s shoulders, and as she twitched it into place she proceeded -with fresh energy. - -“What’s the matter with you, Miss, is that you’ve been so set aside -that you’re afraid to smile and be merry. Let yourself go to-night, and -you’ll see----” - -“Why, ’twill be right enough,” said Sarah ruefully, “so long as I’m -masked--all the dancing ladies are to be masked, you know. I’m not -afraid but I can hold my own then. ’Tis the thought that all the while -people are looking at me they’re saying ‘poor girl,’ and comparing me -with sister. However I may get on with my partner at the rout to-night, -the moment I take off my mask----” - -“Now, don’t go for to say that, Miss! You haven’t seen the head -I’ve got in this bandbox. One would think,” cried the milliner -enthusiastically, “that your good angel had inspired me, for I’ve got -here the very mode to match Miss Jane’s brocade and to suit you. Well, -there! there won’t be no gentleman at the ball to-night, wishing you -was your sister. I’ll take my oath o’ that.” - -And indeed, when some twenty minutes later the plain Miss Vibart -contemplated her image in the glass, she conceded that she might -very well hold her own. By a couple of twists of clever fingers, -Pamela Pounce had contrived to loosen and display her curls to an -advantage hitherto undreamt of. When a hairdresser was called in, his -services were not wasted on Sarah. And the “head”; what an exquisite -indescribable trifle, and how becoming! The twist of silver tissue as -light as the most delicate cloud, the single hint of blue, and the -one full pink rose! It lent an ethereal aspect to the flying curls of -powdered hair; Sarah’s small round face took a something elfin, and, as -she smiled at herself, roguish, that made the milliner clap her hands -and vow that she was delicious, and that her own anticipations were -far exceeded. - -Sarah turned and hugged her unexpected friend before obeying her -mother’s call. - -“I’ll come round to Madame Mirabel’s in the morning and tell you all -about it. See if I don’t.” - - * * * * * - -Miss Sarah Vibart looked so modest and inconspicuous as she slipped -into Madame Mirabel’s hat shop on the thundery June morning after the -Masked Rout at Hampshire House, that Miss Popple deemed it not worth -her while to enquire what her pleasure might be. - -“Foh!” thought Polly. “Some poor country cousin on the spy for -fashion,” for no one can be so haughty as the young person who caters -for the high and mighty. - -What was her surprise to see the head milliner conclude the affairs -of a most important dowager in perfunctory haste, with a peremptory, -“Door, Miss Quigly,” and advance with the most urgent courtesy to the -customer in the plain print gown, with the unmistakable home-trimmed -hat, and the not at all pretty face underneath it! - -“Step with me into the dressing-room, Miss Vibart. I’ve got your -_matinée_ ready to fit on,” said Pamela, with a knowing wink. - -And when the two found themselves together in the little screened off -apartment with the big mirror, Miss Pounce scanned her companion’s face -with the most searching anxiety. There was something in that face that -had not been there before, an emotion between trembling joy and crucial -doubt; a colour that fluctuated, a vague and veiled glance. And a smile -that wavered. - -“Well, Miss?” panted Pamela, as the girl, letting herself fall into a -chair, seemed to float away on a dream: “well, Miss, how did you enjoy -of yourself? Wasn’t my head the prettiest there by a long way? I don’t -think the Duchess herself had such a bit of real art, and I ought to -know! I’m sure, if you only looked as you did upstairs in that little -room when you took off your mask----” - -“Oh, you dear kind thing, I never took off my mask at all.” - -“What, Miss?” - -“Oh, I couldn’t!” - -“Of all the pities! There, I might as well have spared my trouble, I -see. There ain’t a mite of use in trying to help those that won’t help -themselves, that’s flat!” - -“Nay, pray, pray don’t be vexed with me! You’ve been such a friend to -me! You’re the only friend I have! Oh, I must tell you! There’s no one -in the world I can tell.” - -There was such real distress in the girl’s whole air, and at the same -time, some pathetic hope that seemed to cast a pale beam across her -trouble like sunshine on a gloomy day, that Pamela swallowed down her -natural irritation and began to feel moreover that her efforts might -prove to have been not so altogether wasted after all. More than this, -how could she fail to be touched by the appeal: “You are my only -friend”? Flattered, too, considering--and Pamela was far too sensible -not to consider--the difference in their station. - -“Oh,” cried the plain Miss Vibart, as if the gentle look the milliner -cast on her had been a Moses wand and the spring gushed forth under -its touch. “Oh pity! Oh, why am I not beautiful, like Jane? I never -envied her before--never, never--but oh, why did I go to the party at -all? If I hadn’t known him first, if he had not been so wonderful kind -and clever and charming and loving to talk to me, and understanding me -so--oh, oh, and so handsome! Oh, I’d never have known what he was if -Jane had had him first!” - -“There, don’t cry, you poor thing! Why, now, you said you’d tell me -about it, Miss, and I’m sure, I think it uncommon pleasant of you, -Miss, and I’d never take advantage--no! ’Twill be as sacred--as -sacred--no not if I was to be drawn and quartered! But there, Miss, -why, how do you know ’tisn’t all going to end lovely? How do you know -the gentleman isn’t like me and wouldn’t rather have you than the -beauty, fifty thousand times?” - -Here came such a lifting of swimming eyes, such a timid smile that -Pamela thought she, for one, never wanted to see anything sweeter than -the face of the plain Miss Vibart. - -And after that the confidences came, broken, halting, but explicit -enough for such quick wits as those of Madame Mirabel’s head woman. How -Sarah had followed her mother, with a higher heart than she had ever -carried in her bosom to any entertainment, into the great, splendid -ball-room of Hampshire House, safe under her mask: and they had scarce -been there a five minutes when up comes the Duchess of Queensbury in a -great fuss, followed by a tall young gentleman, and she says to Mamma, -for the Duchess is Mamma’s cousin by marriage, and has remembered the -relationship since Jane came out, for Jane, she says, is the most -beautiful creature in the world and “so she is,” cried the loyal -sister, breaking off her narrative with a trembling lip. - -“’Tis the young gentleman’s looks I want to hear about,” Miss Pounce -interpolated skilfully. “Mr. W---- I suppose? Him your lady Mamma was -alluding to.” - -“Mr. W. it was, Mr. Walsingham. And oh, he’s a person of great -consequence, for he’s the nephew and heir of the old Marquis of -Harborough, him that succeeded his brother, you know, and none of -them ever married. And oh, dear, my dear friend--your name’s Pounce, -isn’t it? I’d rather call you by your Christian name if you don’t -mind. Pamela? Oh, I like that. Dear Pamela, I thought when the Duchess -introduced him and he bowed and smiled I’d never seen anything so -agreeable, nor so well looking. With such straight and honest eyes and -so kind a smile. And the Duchess was in such a fuss, as I told you, -she wouldn’t listen to Mamma who wanted to explain about Jane, and I -think she’s a little deaf, too. ‘Here, Edward,’ she cries, ‘here’s -Miss Vibart, what I’ve told you of and you’d better engage her at once, -for once it gets about what face is behind that mask, there’ll be -twenty clamouring for her. Oh, you’re a lucky dog,’ says she--that’s -the way she speaks, and I think it’s rather gross, but Mamma won’t -have it, because she’s a duchess--‘Oh, you’re a lucky dog,’ she cries, -‘and there won’t be a buck in the room that won’t want your blood when -midnight comes and that face is revealed.’” - -“Dear, to be sure,” said Pamela, with a sucking breath. “And do you -think Mr. W.--I can’t help it, Miss, I shall always call him that: -’tis so mysterious like--didn’t hear what your Mamma tried to tell the -Duchess? Did he take you for your sister straight off?” - -An overwhelming blush spread over the plain Miss Vibart’s face. - -“Oh, Pamela Pounce,” she cried, “’twas very silly and cowardly of me, -but I didn’t want him to find out. I thought for once I’d know, even on -false pretences, what it means to be admired and courted. And oh, my -dear creature, yes, I’ll be truthful. I liked him so much from the very -first that I couldn’t, I couldn’t make up my mind to his going away and -leaving me.” - -In the pause which ensued, the milliner discreetly waited while last -night’s heroine once again fell into a retrospective muse. Suddenly the -girl broke out: - -“’Twas the strangest thing! Our tastes met at every point. ‘Never -think, sir,’ cries I to him, ‘to find me entertaining company, for I’m -the veriest country mouse----’ ‘Country!’ cries he. ‘Madam, there’s no -life for anyone but in the country to my mind. This town existence, -what is it? How can anyone but an idiot substitute the fresh air and -the green fields and the fine views and the wholesome activities, the -pleasant neighbourly intercourse, for this inane round of dissipations -in the atmosphere of smoke, the hideous confinement of brick and mortar -and the feverish intercourse with strangers between people who can -have naught in common, and as like as not can never meet again?’” - -“La,” cried Pamela, “how you remember it all, Miss! And sure, to my -mind, ’twas scarce an auspicious opening.” - -“Nay, but it was, for it set me off laughing. And, cries I, an idiot -and inane! ‘You’re vastly obliging, sir, but pray remember that I, -at least, am subject to authority.’ ‘And so am I, madam,’ cried he, -‘’tis by my uncle’s orders that I am in the town, so you and I may -perhaps call ourselves the only sane people in a room full of vapidity. -And such being the case,’ he went on, ‘you will allow me to add most -respectfully that we scarce meet altogether as strangers, and that I -trust our first meeting may not be the last.’” - -The milliner gave a whistle. - -“Quick work,” quoth she, “a’most like putting on the feathers before -the straw is stitched together.” - -“Oh, nay indeed!” cried the other again, “we were somehow so -comfortably at home with each other from the first! And after we had -danced a minuet--it is not vanity on my part to say that I can dance -and that better than dear Jane, though, to be sure, it scarce matters -how she steps for none will look but at her face--we got on amazing in -the figures, and afterwards better still in the talk we had together. -Never was there such harmony of taste, I do assure you; I told him how -vastly I preferred the country gentlemen to the town fop, and he told -me the town young lady could never hold a candle to the fresh country -creature that would be up betimes in the dairy, and still-room. And -oh, a dairy is all my joy, and as to a still-room why, I scarce know -how the time flies, once I’m in ours! Our housekeeper is very old, and -Mamma is very kind and lets me help her. And there’s no butter half so -good as mine in the county, and the dear cows, I love the very sight of -them. Aye and I can milk, too. And there’s not a herb in the garden I -don’t know the use of. And----” - -“Why, Miss,” said the milliner, amused, “what a mistress you’ll be of a -country house of your own, one of these days!” - -“Why, that’s what he said!” - -“Did he indeed?” Pamela laughed out loud. - -“Nay, but,” the girl’s face, which had wonderfully brightened, fell; -“You must remember he thought I was the Beauty all the time! He has -heard about Jane. ’Tis quite clear. He is in love with her without ever -having seen her, and that was why the more charming, the more ardent, -respectfully ardent, he was, the more my heart sank. Though indeed I do -think our minds were in sympathy, and to be sure, sister scarce knows -rhubarb from angelica, or cream cheese from curds.” - -“Ah, if I’d been you,” said Pamela Pounce with fire, “I’d have pulled -my mask off, Miss, and faced him and said, ‘By your tongue you’re a man -of sense, show yourself one by your eyes.’” - -“Oh, you may talk,” Sarah cast a desperate upward glance at the -kindling face: “you that’s so handsome! Little you know what it is -to feel plain. ’Tis as I have told you, I couldn’t, aye--that’s the -word!--face it. And so I slipped from him, even as all the assembly -was summoned to the supper-room, and hid myself. And oh,” cried Sarah, -between laughing and crying, “when Mamma found me at last, sitting with -the maids among the cloaks, she was very angry first. ‘And where have -you been?’ cries she. ‘The Duchess and Mr. W. have been looking for you -everywhere. Mr. Walsingham’s mad after you, child,’ and oh,” here Sarah -sobbed, “she was most angry because she thought he had liked me too -much. And when I told her he took me for sister, ‘why,’ said she, ‘put -on your mask this minute, Miss. And I forbid you ever to let on that -you took Jane’s place. He has told the Duchess that you’re the most -intelligent young woman, that your mind and your principles are all -he could desire--believing you to be Jane of course. Things could not -be better! His intentions are most serious!’ And now,” cried Sarah, -drying her eyes desperately, “Sister’s had her tooth out this morning, -and the apothecary says in a week there’ll be nothing to show for it. -And though there’s been a message from the Duchess to say Mr. W. wished -to call to-day, Mamma has wrote back that Jane has taken a cold at the -masked ball and must keep her room for a few days. But oh, Pamela, when -he comes and looks upon her--why, you can guess how it will be!” - -“’Tis a monstrous shame,” the partisan exclaimed. “I wouldn’t put up -with it, Miss. And all the time ’tis yourself he’ll think he’s getting. -You ought to up and tell him straight and let him make his choice.” - -But Sarah, pulling on her shabby gloves and drawing her hat over her -red eyes, shook her head. “I couldn’t do that,” said she. “Mamma says -if I breathe a word ’twill be the basest treachery to sister. And -she’ll keep me out of the way,” she added under her breath. - -The girl then flung her arms round the milliner’s neck. Sarah was -indeed lacking in propriety. - -“I’ll send back your head. ’Tis as fresh as ever. And thank you a -million times. At least I’ve had a peep into happiness.” - -It was quite ten days later when Pamela Pounce received an urgent -message from Miss Vibart to come and see her after closing hours. - - “_Mamma and Jane are going out and I shall be quite alone. Do come, I - have something so strange to tell you._” - -Miss Pounce did not need to be bidden twice to such an appointment. -Her warm heart had been considerably preoccupied on the subject of the -plain Miss Vibart’s affairs. - -She was shown in, not to the fireless dark slit of a room overlooking -the shaft, but to quite a comfortable small bedroom on the street. -Sarah, in an elegant white muslin wrapper, sprang up from her -writing-table to embrace her friend. - -“Yes, yes, look at me!” she cried. “I ain’t ashamed of my face to-day. -Indeed I quite love it. Oh, I’ve just been writing to all the dear old -people at home, my blessed old nurse and Mrs. Comfit--that’s our good -housekeeper--to tell them--to tell them my great news! Oh, Pamela, I -wanted to tell it by degrees and surprise you, but I can’t. ’Twill out! -It is me he wants.” - -“Mr. W.?” - -“My own dear, darling Edward Walsingham, who else? Oh, was there ever -such a lucky girl? Oh, Pamela! Here, sit beside me. Let me hold your -hand. Let me hold your hand, your warm, dear hand that lifted me up, -when I was oh, in such a pit of despond.” - -The two sat together on the maiden’s bed, and Pamela began to cry, as -women will, over the tender emotions of the moment. - -“I’m as glad, my dear,” she said, “as glad as if you’d given me a -hundred thousand pounds. Gladder! And, how did it come to pass?” she -drew her sucking breath of delighted anticipation. - -“This morning, then--oh, when I think it was only this morning!--sister -being quite unswollen and looking lovelier than ever, Mamma put her -into the blue muslin--your blue muslin, you remember it?--and made -Meeking do her hair in a new way with a black ribbon bow at the back -and little curls, like the Duchess of Devonshire, and oh, sister did -look lovely! And just as she was ready, up comes Joe Footman to say the -Duchess of Queensberry and Mr. Walsingham was in the withdrawing-room. -And Mamma takes sister by the hand and ‘Come, child,’ says she. ‘And -if you poke when you come into the room I’ll slap you,’ (Sister does -poke sometimes you know.) And off they go, without so much as a look -at me. I’d been helping to dress sister, you see, holding the hairpins -and that. And there was I in my old frumpy gown, and I just looked at -myself in the glass and I thought: ‘You plain thing, how dare you -be jealous of beauty, and your own sister, too! And if you cry, you -silly creature, you’ll only make yourself plainer, so what’s the good -of that!’ And I wouldn’t cry, dear. I picked up sister’s clothes and -was putting them away, trying not to think. Oh, trying so hard not to -think--of him downstairs, looking worship at Jane, when all at once up -comes Joe Footman again. ‘And you’re to come down, Miss, you’re to come -down this minute to the withdrawing-room. Her Ladyship has sent for -you,’ And oh, you’ll never believe the dreadful thought that came into -my head and how near I was saying I would not obey Mamma, for to tell -you the truth, I thought she wanted to show off Jane with my plainness. -But then I thought, ‘Nay, daughters must do as they’re bid,’ and I set -my teeth and down I went, just as I was. Oh, Pamela, such an untidy, -ill-dressed poor girl, with a sad pale face! And oh--I can hardly -believe it myself--the moment I came into the room up he jumped--yes, -he, Mr. W.--and I heard him cry out quite joyful: ‘Ah, I knew I could -not be mistaken. Ah, ’tis she, ’tis she indeed!’ And then he took both -my hands in his and kissed them one after the other very respectful. -And says he, ‘Forgive me, Madam, forgive me! Your mother will explain. -It has been an absurd misunderstanding. I found a treasure, and I -thought I had lost it. Oh, forgive me if I seem too precipitate!’ And -Jane got up and went to the window and began to tap on the pane, and -Mamma and the Duchess looked at each other. And the Duchess said: ‘I -congratulate you, Amelia, this is the most crazy bit of good fortune -that ever befell a mother,’ And everything did seem rather crazy, for -there was Mamma at one minute looking as if she could kill me and at -the next clasping me and calling me her favourite child. And oh,” -went on the plain Miss Vibart, “it is precipitate, but what does that -matter, when we’re both so happy? And oh, it seems I must tell you, -and ’tis not vanity! that the moment he saw Jane he stared and looked -so mortal disappointed and seemed so confused, falling back two steps -indeed, instead of coming forward, that the Duchess cried: ‘What’s -the matter with the fellow? Ain’t she pretty enough?’ And he said: -‘This is never the young lady to whom you introduced me at Hampshire -House, ma’am. There is some cruel mistake here,’ he says. And oh, he -said to me, when we were alone together a little while ago that when -he saw that empty face--that’s what he said--that doll’s face, that -bit of waxwork, his blood ran cold, and then says he: ‘When you came -in!’--oh dear, I’m not dreaming!--‘When I saw your charming expressive -countenance, full of life and spirit and wit and goodness’--he did say -that--‘I could not hold myself back, I had to speak at once, lest I -lose you again.’ And now,” concluded the future Marchioness, turning -her radiant visage upon the milliner, “he’s gone to Harborough House -to tell his uncle, and Mamma and Jane have gone out to a dinner party, -and if you’ll help me into my frock, dear--yes, it is one of poor -Jane’s--I’ll be ready for him when he calls back, to wish me good -night.” - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -IN WHICH MISS PAMELA POUNCE HAS DONE WITH LOVE - - -Pamela Pounce was nothing if not a business woman, as her history will -have shown. She had not only those valuable intuitions which divine the -public taste, she had the still more priceless quality of inspiring it. - -Before she had completed her first year with Madame Mirabel, the -millinery department had become the mainstay of the house; and Pamela -felt herself in a position to hint to her employer how very much -more it would be to their mutual advantage that she should be given -a proprietary share in the business, than that she should set up for -herself. - -Set up for herself! The mere thought of such a catastrophe put Madame -Mirabel in such a flutter that she had to be revived with ratafia on -the spot. There was no concession that she would not have been willing -to make to prevent it. - -Pamela had prepared a scheme, which was just, fair-minded and -practical, like herself. She was willing to invest a thousand pounds -for the development of the department, and continue to direct the -thriving showroom, if Madame Mirabel would admit her as partner with a -right to half profits. - -A sketch of an agreement was drafted between them, drawn up by Pamela -herself. Fortified by this document she sought her redoubtable aunt. - -“Now, Aunt Lydia,” said she, “here’s the opportunity of your life. You -lend me a thousand pounds, and I’ll give you ten per cent. for three -years and pay you back at the end of it with a bit over. And if I drop -down dead between, you can come on Madame Mirabel.” - -Lydia was no fool. She was as fond of money as only such a nature can -be, and had indeed gathered together quite a substantial hoard in her -long years of lucrative employment. She made all the difficulties, of -course, which the circumstances demanded, but Pamela, who saw the gleam -of greed in her eye, knew that her cause was won from the outset. - -She good-humouredly consented to sign the stringent document which -Lydia thought necessary for her safety; and to obtain Madame Mirabel’s -signature to it also. The transaction was concluded without much more -delay, and Miss Pamela Pounce passed from the position of underling to -that of partner. - -The matter was, needless to say, kept private between Madame Mirabel -and herself. It is never wholesome for the reputation of a business -concern to have these conveniences of management discussed; and, for -the mere sake of discipline where large numbers are employed and easy -jealousies excited, no change affecting authority can be acknowledged. - -Miss Smithson and Miss Popple, therefore, while unable to blind -themselves to the fact that their aged employer’s infatuation for that -scheming Miss Pounce was more lamentably evident than ever, still -buoyed themselves up with the hope that her true character would be -revealed before the eyes of the too-trusting dame. - -Miss Sarah Vibart’s wedding order; bride and bridesmaids hats--Jane -was chief bridesmaid, an advertisement which, as Pamela herself said, -would have been worth paying for ten times over--brought a rush of new -_clientèle_ to the Bond Street house. Mr. Walsingham’s wedding was the -event of June--luckily timed before the unexpected death of the Marquis -of Harborough--and it is scarcely too much to say that the first -thought of every lady of fashion who received a ticket of invitation -was: “Pounce shall make me a new hat!” - -Lydia, who kept a close tongue where her nest-egg was concerned, -began to unbend considerably towards her niece. Nothing succeeds like -success. You could scarce have dragged five shillings out of her, had -the girl been lingering on at Tabbishaw’s, but, as matters stood, my -Lady’s Abigail felt “warm in her inwards,” every time she thought of -that thousand pounds which was so likely to bring a blessing upon her -high sense of family feeling. - -She took to inviting Pamela to a dish of chocolate in the sewing -parlour at Hertford Street of a Saturday afternoon, promising her also -a plate of those queen cakes “which my Lady’s still-room maid do turn -out rather well, and which you’re so fond of, my dear.” - -These invitations Pamela accepted with increasing frequency; and if -Lydia happened to be washing her Ladyship’s best lace caps or ironing -out her ribbons, it was only becoming, from a niece to an aunt, that -she should lend a hand, particularly considering the money obligations -between them. - -But Pamela’s real reason for presenting herself at Hertford Street lay -so deep down that it could scarcely be said that she acknowledged it -even to herself. - -She was hankering for news of Jocelyn Bellairs; and at last, by an -artful twist of the conversation, Miss Lydia was induced to drop a -stray word in connection with him: “that rubbish! Her Ladyship had got -a place for him at Bristol, with an India merchant,” and she hoped to -goodness he’d keep steady, and they’d hear no more of him. - -That was the first item of information which Pamela gathered for her -starving heart. She tried to tell herself what a relief it was not to -have him hanging about, and how splendid that he should have work, and -how sure she was that he, so clever, would now make a way for himself, -even as she had done. But it was poor comfort! - -After two Saturdays wasted, she once more heard the beloved name -mentioned: this time again in no uncertain tones of condemnation. - -My Lady was so put about. Lydia hadn’t known her so upset since the day -my Lord was took up as a highwayman; and she the widow Bellairs and he -Denis O’Hara. - -“That audacious young villain! He’s been making a regular popinjay of -himself at Bath. There’s my Lady Nan Day, recovering from the measles, -writes: ‘Your nephew, my dear, your nephew is the rage here; driving -the most elegant curricle you ever saw with a pair of bloods, which, my -Philip says, make his mouth water. Has he come into a fortune or not?’ -writes my Lady Nan--and she was always a spiteful one--‘for he will -need it,’ says she. ‘We was all mortal sorry that his horse, what he -set such store by, failed at the Spring races.’ My Lady has wrote to -him,” pursued Lydia, her green eyes maliciously fixed upon her niece, -“to explain, for goodness gracious sake, ‘for unless he’s robbed the -mail, Lydia,’ says she, ‘or been more successful on the highway than -my poor Denis’--and that was what put it into my head, Pamela, my -love--‘I’m very much afraid,’ she says, ‘’tis his master’s strong box -he’s been at, and that will spell prison,’ she says, ‘and the name so -well known.’ Oh, the shame of it!” - -“Shame indeed!” cried Pamela, her glance flashing back at Lydia’s -taunt; she knew very well what gave such extra zest to these tales; but -she, Pamela, was not one to wear her heart on her sleeve for an old -magpie to peck at. - -On the following Saturday she saw from the first moment she crossed the -threshold that Lydia was big with news, unpleasant enough to make her -bursting to tell it. - -Pamela was past mistress of exasperating tactics herself, and there was -some very pretty fencing between the two, by which Lydia was forced to -restrain her old-maidish desire to plant a dagger in the bosom of the -younger maid. Pamela had so much to discourse about on the new Turban -mode, and the last letter from Madame Eglantine to Madame Mirabel. - -“Poor thing, she’s in all the states, what with these new dreadful -doings and the insolence of the people, and Ildefonse letting his hair -grow and going out to clubs o’ night to talk blasphemy. Ugh!” said -Pamela, “I never could abide that man.” And my Lady Amelia Vibart, -haggling over the wedding bills, ’twas a scandal! And had Aunt Lydia -heard the last horrid tit-bit about my Lord Harborough and Miss Falcon? -And wouldn’t it be a pity if Mr. Walsingham were to miss coming in -for the title after all? ’Twas said my Lord Harborough was mad set on -marrying her, when there wouldn’t be a mite of reason why she shouldn’t -have a brat to put Mr. W.’s nose out of joint! - -Lydia was still seeking for an interval in which to thrust, when My -Lady’s bell rang with the double pull which indicated that Miss Pounce -had better hurry herself, or my Lady would know the reason why. - -Pamela smiled to herself as the door was banged behind her Aunt; then -she sighed. - -Aunt Lydia was a tabby if ever there was one, but oh, dear, what -dreadful bit of tattle was she bound to hear before the evening was -out? And oh, dear, what a pity it was that things went so contrary in -this world, and that poor girls had hearts at all! - -She had hardly had time pensively to nibble through a queen cake--for -Pamela was much too sensible to let any sentimentality interfere with -her appetite--when Lydia reappeared, and, with much flouncing and head -tossing, informed her that, it being a dratted nuisance that people -wouldn’t mind their own business, it had come to her Ladyship’s ears, -through Pompey, that Pamela was present in the house. Nothing would -serve her Ladyship but that she must come up at once about a “head” for -to-night’s concert. - -Pamela shook the crumbs from her apron and rose with the imperturbable -alacrity which it was her pride to bring to all affairs of business. - -The day was hot, and my Lady’s big bed-chamber a delicious cave of -coolness after the highly-elevated atmosphere of Lydia’s own parlour. -The amber curtains were drawn before the big windows; there was a -shining sea of parquet floor on which delicate French furniture made -here and there an attractive island. An immense bunch of roses on the -spindle-legged dressing-table just caught the breeze from the wide-open -window, and wafted fragrance. My Lady herself, extended in a vapour of -white muslin on an amber satin couch, lazily fanning herself, was as -agreeable a spectacle as any heated young woman with refined tastes -could hope to gaze upon. - -“Sit down, Miss Pounce,” said Kitty affably. “(Lydia, get out the -bandbox with the saffron head.) Now, my dear, good, kind creature, look -at it. Yes! I know. ’Tis the sweetest thing I’ve laid eyes on this -season, but conceive my horror, Miss Pounce, when I heard anon that -Her Majesty was to be present at the Duchess of Portland’s to-night. -Conceive my horror! I saw myself with the Queen’s eyes! I tell you, -Miss Pounce, my days at Court would have been counted.” - -Here Lydia was heard to murmur, with the familiarity of long service, -and a backward scratch at her niece that she was tired telling her -Ladyship that the last year’s head from Madame Eglantine, which her -Ladyship had never worn but the once, would be the very thing for her -to wear to-night, “and a genteel, tasty, Frenchy confection it was,” -which her Ladyship wouldn’t better not if she ransacked Bond Street. - -“I tell you, you perverse piece,” cried her mistress, fanning herself -with an energy calculated to make even the spectator feel hot, “that -turn myself into a frump with a last year’s mode, I’ll not do, even to -please the Queen. Pamela, child, I’ve set my heart on the saffron head. -I vow and protest those gold ospreys with the cluster of saffron roses -and the little wreath of green leaves between, I vow and protest ’tis -the very dream to go with my India gold-embroidered gown. ’Tis there on -the bed, my dear, as fine as a cobweb! There’ll not be another like it -in the room. And there’s never anything so elegant as white and gold of -a hot night. With my dark eyes, Pamela, and the gold ospreys--oh, but -the gold ospreys, so airy, so fly-away! And Her Majesty who will not -even tolerate feathers! I’d have worn my high band of diamonds--pshaw! -it grieves me to the very soul! What can you suggest?” - -Pamela put her finger to her lip and corrugated her white brow in the -profoundest thought. Kitty held her breath as she watched her. The fate -of nations might have been hanging between them. Then said the milliner -decisively, “I see nothing for it. We can’t do it, my Lady. The ospreys -will have to go.” Then, as Kitty’s face fell, she added briskly, -“But there! I often say to myself, what seems a trial is a blessing. -Why should not your Ladyship set a fashion? It came to me just as I -looked at your Ladyship’s gown and the fairy elegance of that India -embroidery, and your Ladyship wears a wreath so becoming; wouldn’t gold -grapes and green leaves look tasty, bunches each side with the di’mond -bandeau to draw them together?” - -“Pounce, you’re a genius!” Kitty dropped her fan to clap her hands. - -At the same moment my Lord came into the room and smiled to see her -look so pleased. - -“Faith, and I’ve come at the right tick of the clock, I think--morning -to you, Miss Pounce. You and my Lady and your fripperies, ’tis the -business of the world, ain’t it?” He rubbed his hands and hemmed. “By -your bright face, I’ve come at the right tick, Kitty, me darling, to -ask you for a proof of your good nature.” - -“A proof of my good nature, my Lord? So long as ’tis nothing to go -against my good sense.” - -Kitty was always ready to oblige, in reason, but she had her wits about -her. - -“Stay, child,” she cried, as Pamela prepared discreetly to withdraw. -“It can but take a moment. We must send Pompey for the grapes, to Bond -Street, and I vow that no hand but yours shall fasten them in my curls. -Your niece will write a note, Lydia, at my escritoire, and see that the -black brat runs. They might send a choice of sizes, what think you, -Pamela? _Oh, what is it_, my Lord? You men are so impatient.” - -“Why, Kitty,” said her husband, coming close to the sofa, on which his -lively little spouse now sat very straight, gesticulating among the -mother-of-pearl shimmer of her cushions. “The matter concerns you, -really, more than meself. At least, it concerns your family. Poor young -Bellairs has been arrested for debt. Nipped from me very side, my dear, -as we came out of the Cocoa Tree together, a while ago, by a rascally -pimp!” - -“Mr. Jocelyn Bellairs? Do you refer to Mr. Jocelyn Bellairs?” asked my -Lady Kilcroney, becoming rigid. - -Pamela’s quill, scratching wildly across a great sheet of paper, was -arrested in mid flourish. - -There was a small unpleasant pause, broken by a loud sniff from Lydia. - -Then my Lady said: “Indeed. I understood the young gentleman was at -Bristol.” - -My Lord was not misled by the quietness of her tone. “Ah, God help -you, Kitty,” he exclaimed, flustered. “Sure you never believed you -could keep a lad of that kidney with his nose in a desk? Didn’t he off -with himself with his first three months’ salary, and hasn’t his luck -been the talk of Bath, barring the let-down of a sorrel filly at the -point-to-point? And sure, if it hadn’t been that the dice has been -going against him the last three or four days----” he broke off. - -Kitty sat like an image of scorn; and my Lord, seeing that his mission -did not seem likely to be blessed with success, proceeded in nettled -tones: - -“The long and the short of it is, I’ve promised Jocelyn we’d see to -it. ’Tis only a matter of ninety-seven pound ten, when all is said and -done. And that to a livery stableman.” - -He drew a crumpled sheet of blue paper from his pocket as he spoke. -Kitty unexpectedly stretched out her hand; with a sigh of relief he put -it into it. - -“I knew you’d be the first to say it ought to be paid, my dearest life.” - -“Certainly, it ought to be paid, Denis.” - -“You wouldn’t wish the poor dear lad--and him as pleasant over the -green cloth as ever I met--to be penned up in the sponging house. -Besides which,” added Kilcroney, in imprudent reminiscence, “don’t I -know, isn’t it the mischief once you get into one of those holes! ’Tis -like a sheep in a ditch: the sky is black with crows after you in a -twinkling.” - -“Very sad,” said my Lady. - -She tendered the blue paper back with an indifferent gesture. - -“Have you despatched Pompey, Lydia?” - -Lord Kilcroney put his hands behind him. - -“Nay! nay!” cried he, with the uneasy boisterousness of one who would -force the issue as a joke. “’Tis your business, me darling.” - -“I thought you wanted it paid, my Lord?” - -“And maybe,” cried he, laughing yet more violently, “you think I can -pay it?” - -He began pulling his pockets out. - -“Sure that would be the joke entirely! I’m cleaned through. There ain’t -a single chinker left in my purse, Kitty, and it’s the lovely red silk -one you made me yourself last Christmas. Troth! I am this moment what -they say Nature abhors----” - -“And what’s that, Sir?” - -“A vacuum, my love,” quoth my Lord, with a great guffaw. - -Kitty contemplated him a moment, icily. Then she said: “All my -sympathies are with Nature.” - -Kilcroney reddened, shrugged his shoulders, and replacing the linings -of his pockets in their normal position, thrust his hands into them, -and sauntered out of the room. - -There was nothing further to be done; the moment was unpropitious. - -Kitty balled the blue sheet with an angry hand, and flung it after him, -and Pamela, who had never finished that phrase of directions, rose from -the _escritoire_ and picked it up. - -The action was performed with so much composure that it seemed but the -natural outcome of her good manners. - -“Don’t give it back to me, child!” exclaimed Kitty with tartness. -“Throw it into the waste paper basket. Have you wrote your message?” - -Pamela walked back to the writing-table. - -“I was un-bethinking myself, your Ladyship, that it would be better for -me to run back myself, and choose the sprays. Miss Smithson, the person -in charge of the office of a Saturday, is that disagreeable, she’d send -the wrong sets on purpose. It won’t take me half an hour, my Lady.” - -She tore the sheet she had begun writing upon in two, and dropped -it into the elegant little gilt be-ribboned basket, which was the -repository of my Lady Kilcroney’s scraps. She made a brisk curtsy and -stepped out of the room. - -Even Lydia’s sharp eyes failed to perceive that she had not thrown -away the livery-man’s crumpled account; that she had thrust into her -kerchief. - - * * * * * - -Mr. Jocelyn Bellairs was not destined to spend the Sabbath in a -sponging house, for he was released on Saturday night, someone having -settled Mr. Thomas Jobbin’s livery-stable account, before any other of -his creditors had had wind of his arrest. - -Now the young gentleman had stepped into liberty in a very bad humour. -He had no doubt but that he was once again indebted to my Lady -Kilcroney in the matter, but, like many another spendthrift, not having -the smallest claim upon her generosity he considered that it ought to -be unlimited in his regard, and felt himself injured that it should go -no further. He had come to view himself as having a right to a share of -old Bellairs’s money. Wasn’t he, split him, the last of the name? Now, -was this a way to treat the only living representative of a Nabob who -had left his widow the command of millions? Just the debt writ off, and -not a farthing over to jingle in your pocket, or a question what was to -become of a fellow! “Never you turn a hair,” had said my Lord. “I’ll be -back again in a jiffy to set you free, and we’ll have a jolly night of -it while my Lady’s at her caterwaul.” - -He had expected no less of one who, like Denis Kilcroney, was profiting -not only of his own uncle’s hoard, but of that old gentleman’s tactful -demise. - -But instead of the promised re-appearance a message had been flung in -at him, left by a lackey towards seven of the clock; my Lord was mortal -sorry, and he sent a bottle of gin and some lemons. - -And at ten the prisoner had been told he was free. - -Mr. Bellairs had hot blood, and it was all afire. And the mischief was -in it that he might not even have the satisfaction of calling out the -dashed Irishman for his insolence, since he couldn’t help being under -an obligation. - -He avoided the Cocoa Tree that evening and plunged into lower haunts, -where, not in the very best company, play ran very nearly as high as at -the Mayfair clubs. - -He was an audacious, reckless player, but in the main a successful one. -To-night there was something almost fantastic in his luck. He went home -in the blue of the morning with his pockets full of gold; his resentful -mood was rather augmented by his good fortune than otherwise. - -Nor was he in a whit better temper when some five hours later he -swaggered out into the Green Park, shaven to velvet, his sparrow-tail -coat, his high close-fitting boots, his tight buckskin breeches and -their bunches of ribbon, his short waistcoat, and his big buckled -hat, the very last thing in manly modes. It was his intention to call -upon my Lady Kilcroney in Hertford Street and repay her the paltry -ninety-seven pounds ten which stood between him and a meeting with my -Lord. - -Miss Pamela Pounce, coming from church and stepping in the same -direction--she had grown singularly attentive to Aunt Lydia--came plump -upon the Beau as their paths converged at the Piccadilly gate. His dark -face kindled while her blooming cheek grew pale. - -“La, to be sure, sir, who’d ha’ thought of meeting you?” - -“Why, and is it you, Pamela?” - -His eye ran her up and down. She was clad in shimmering blue-lilac -taffety, and her wide-brimmed hat, of the kind which Sir Joshua had set -the rage, was trimmed with broad silk ribbons of the same shade. She -wore a plain muslin kerchief; a black ribbon tied back her unpowdered -chestnut curls. She made a very pleasant picture; all, with perfect -taste, within a certain modest compass becoming her station. - -There was no mistaking the emotion evoked in her by the sight of him. -Her breath came quickly; her clear gaze fluttered and fell, and her -pallor was succeeded by a flame of carnation. - -Now out of the black mood in Mr. Bellairs’s soul there flashed an evil -fire. - -“Of all the meetings in the whole world,” cried he, ardently, “there’s -none could give me half so much joy, my dearest creature. Turn with -me. I must speak with you. Nay, Pamela, I vow, I vow, you’ve not been -out of my thoughts this month. Turn and come with me, I say. Let us -away under the trees, where we can talk by ourselves. Pamela, dearest -Pamela, take my arm. You are more lovely than ever, and I am--I am -more headlong in love than ever I was before!” - -There was too great a flutter in the girl’s soul for her to have her -usual cool grip of the situation. An overwhelming tide of happiness -lifted her from her mental balance. She could not doubt that, after all -these months, it must be a genuine love that lit up his glance, that -trembled in his voice and in his touch She had proved to him, surely, -what kind of girl she was. He must mean the right thing at last, or he -would not so whole-heartedly declare himself. - -And she had just rendered him a signal service, which (though he could -not yet know it), gave her a delightful sense of meeting him on his -own level. She was, moreover, in a vastly different position now from -that of the mere working milliner. She had resources at her command; a -future before her. - -And there he was, the dear fellow, and he loved her still! Could a -Sunday morning in June hold a more golden bliss? - -So she hung on his arm, and listened with parted lips to his raptures, -to the fantastic string of plans, the sweet, repeated endearments which -poured from his lips. Now that they had met there were to be no more -partings. Things were changed. He had plenty of money. Here she looked -at him in astonishment, and he drew a handful of gold from his pocket. -He was in the Devil’s own vein of luck, he told her. He wouldn’t listen -to her objurgation; he laughed at the admonishing finger. Her assurance -that she possessed a safer and more worthy source of wealth he tossed -aside as a jest. There was a horse of his booked for Ascot. If she did -not romp in with a sweet little cottage at Fulham for them both at her -heels!... - -“Oh, Mr. Bellairs!” Pamela clasped her other hand over his arm. “I -could come up and down to business as easy as easy. A cottage with a -bit of garden! ’Tis the very thing I’ve always dreamed of!” - -“And I hope you put me in the dream, my lovely girl.” He kissed her -behind the trunk of a big beech-tree. “Why,” cried he, “who’d have -thought to find you so sensible all at once?” - -It was not, perhaps, so much the words, as the way in which he looked -at her after he had kissed her, that opened the sudden gulf before her! -She drew back, and stood staring; her face haggard; all the lovely -bloom and youthful ecstasy blasted out of it. - -Then she said, in a low, strained voice--Pamela went straight to -her point, she was not one to cover ugly situations with a mince of -words--“You don’t mean marriage, then, Mr. Bellairs?” - -The ugliness of his mood sprang into naked prominence. He broke into a -loud laugh. - -“Come, don’t play the prude, now! Don’t pretend you didn’t understand.” -Then he added, a sort of shame creeping into his accents in spite of -himself, “Be sensible, my dear girl. Don’t play the fool with our lives -again.” - -He put out his arm again to embrace her, but she struck him a vigorous -buffet that sent him staggering from her. - -“You’ve laid a vile trap for me, Mr. Jocelyn Bellairs, but thank God -I didn’t fall into it! I see you now as you are, a low, selfish scamp -that doesn’t think it shame to take his pleasure on other people. You’d -drag my good name into the dust with as little concern as you live on -my Lady’s money. So long as you get your fling you don’t care who you -rob or what you destroy! Oh, I’m glad to have seen you as you are! And -good morning to you, Mr. Jocelyn Bellairs, for a very paltry dog!” - -She swept him a curtsy which was magnificent in its repudiation. He had -a swift vision of her scorching eyes, her scarlet cheeks; she turned -and left him, dumbfounded. - -“I’m done with love,” said Pamela Pounce, to herself. “May I never -hear of it, or see it, or touch it again!” - -Little did she guess with what overwhelming passion she was very -shortly destined to behold the cruel god at work upon another life! - - - - -CHAPTER X - -IN WHICH MISS PAMELA POUNCE SETS THREE BLACK FEATHERS FOR TRAGEDY - - -Miss Pamela Pounce was in the act of tying on her own hat, in the upper -room, preparatory to departure after the day’s work, when a breathless -junior summoned her. - -“There’s a young lady below as wants to see you, Miss Pounce, and, la! -I think ’tis Miss Falcon!” - -Now, Felicity Falcon had recently flashed out upon the London stage -with a startling and unexpected splendour that was more like that of a -comet than of a star; Miss Farren, Mrs. Siddons, Mrs. Jordan, were for -the moment as idols overthrown. The cry was all for Falcon. Her name -was on every man’s lips. She was the first excitement of the season; -and not the opera, not an oratorio, not a concert, not a rout at -Almack’s, nor a display at Ranelagh, could be said to offer attraction -in comparison to the playhouse which announced the fair Falcon in the -night’s performance. - -On hearing this remarkable name, Pamela paused, her hand on the -black velvet string which fastened her simple Dunstable straw under -her round, white chin. A play-actress! Many a young person of that -profession had Miss Pounce with dignity shown forth already from the -doors of this select establishment: “Much regretting, Madame, that -there is nothing likely to suit you here.” - -Heavens, if a Mirabel hat were to be recognised on the boards! But -Felicity Falcon? It was only last week that Pamela had wept and -trembled, and sucked in breaths of excitement over her “Mrs. Haller.” -Never had she beheld anything more affecting, more impassioned, -soul-stirring, and elegant than that impersonation. - -To provide Miss Falcon with a hat in which she would enthral and ravish -all London! It was too splendid an opportunity for such an artistic -soul as that of Pamela to resist. After hours, too, and the shutters -putting up, and no fear of awkward rencounters. And if some of her -ladies did find it out, why, foh! for one that would be offended, forty -would order a hat to the same model. - -Pamela flung the Dunstable straw off her chestnut head, and turning -with great dignity, “Inform Miss Falcon,” said she, “that I will attend -her presently.” - -After a due delay, which she spent in drumming with white fingers on -the dressing-table, her eyes lost beyond her own reflection, in a far -vision of millinery genius, Madame Mirabel’s partner appeared in the -empty shop; sedate, her eyebrows well elevated into her white forehead, -her hands folded on her trim waistband. - -The slender figure in the brown silk cloak turned quickly with a rustle -and flutter. - -“You was wishful to speak with me, Madam?” questioned Miss Pounce, in -her finest business manner. - -“I want a hat for to-night, for Lady Teazle--for the third act, for the -screen scene. Oh, I want something----” - -Miss Pounce raised her hand. - -“One moment, Madam.” - -She gazed at the narrow, pale face, unrouged; the dark, ardent eyes. - -“’Tis the most mortal-genteel creature I have ever seen,” thought -Pamela. - -“Not a word, Miss Falcon!” cried she. Then in the tone of a sibyl: -“Black and white; or yet all white. But if you listen to me, black -_and_ white.” - -“I’ve no time to get any new gowns for the part,” said Miss Falcon. - -She had a slow, musical voice, with a ring in it as of tears never far -off, yet never to be shed. - -“And if you’ll excuse me, Miss,” repeated the milliner, “Lady Teazle’s -not your part, so to speak. Tragedy, that’s what you’re born to. Oh, -your Mrs. Haller!” Pamela drew a sucking breath in reminiscence of -last week’s thrills. “There! I’d never ask to enjoy anything more. -Cry, I did. I couldn’t see out of my two eyes, I vow and protest, when -I came forth out of the theatre. But if it’s got to be Lady Teazle, -Madame, ’tis your one bit of tragedy I’m to dress your head for, as I -understand it. And put colour on it--I declare I’d as soon stick a pink -rosette on that there goddess with the lamp from Greece his Grace of -Hampshire sets so much store by in his hall. Put yourself into white -for it, Miss Falcon, and I’ll do you a hat that’ll show it off and you. -When all’s said and done, ’twill be a symbol of what an innocent, poor -young lady you are, so took in by that lying young gentleman, what -I’d hiss off the boards every time he shows his vile, deceitful face, -if I’d my will! La! men are base creatures,” cried Pamela out of her -own bitterness. “White for your innocence, and the shadow of my broad -brim over your eyes with a toss of white feathers atop, and just three -black plumes standing up in the midst of them; the bit of tragedy that -has come into your young life; one,” said Miss Pounce, “for the horrid -danger you’ve escaped, and one for your poor deceived heart, and one -for the remorse, like, over the goodness of that kind Sir Peter, making -his will so generous and trusting, for all his ways ’ud be enough to -drive any wife out of her wits. Those black feathers,” said the girl -impressively, “will show you off, Miss Falcon, better than trumpet -blasts.” - -Miss Falcon listened with an odd, abstracted look. - -“So you think I’m best in tragedy, do you?” she said, and sighed. -“But I don’t want to be tragic, I want to be happy.” And then: “I’m -late!” she cried impetuously. “You’ll have to bring me the hat to the -theatre. I’ve scarce the time to get into my clothes.” - -A handsome private coach, with liveried footmen, was waiting for her at -the door, and as Pamela accompanied her to the threshold, the actress -looked back over her shoulder with a fugitive smile: - -“I’ll wear a white satin gown for the screen scene,” she said, stepped -into the coach, and was whirled away. - -Pamela stood looking after her. - -“Now who’s paying for all that?” the milliner asked herself. “Some -very great personage, ’tis well known; for anything more splendid and -discreet I never see. Best in tragedy, you poor thing!” The tears rose -to Pamela’s candid eyes. “Why, ’tis tragedy itself you are already! You -so young, with that smile that ought to have warmed a good man’s heart! -La, if my ladies knew who ’tis I’m going to trim a hat for this minute, -and where ’tis I’m to bring it when ’tis done!” - - * * * * * - -Pamela Pounce looked about her with shrewd eyes, as she sat, very -politely, on the edge of a cane chair in Miss Falcon’s dressing-room -at Drury Lane. A bandbox at her feet, her hands folded one across -the other in her dove-grey lap, she presented the very image of -elegant propriety in a doubtful atmosphere. She had not expected -to find company in the dressing-room, the play being well started; -nevertheless, there was a knot of two or three modish-looking -individuals who laughed a good deal together, and tapped the lids -of their own snuff-boxes and took pinches out of each other’s with -positively the last thing in flourishes. - -The gaunt woman who moved about at the back of the dressing-table, -unnecessarily shaking garments, was, of course, the actress’s dresser, -and a sour piece she was, thought Pamela, who had already refused, -with a high air of contempt, this functionary’s proposal to leave the -bandbox with her. “As if I was come all this way to do porter’s work!” -thought Miss Pounce, with a toss of her admirably tired head. - -Miss Falcon was standing at the door, looking in upon them, before -anyone was aware of her presence; then she came forward, followed by -a portly, handsome gentleman past middle age, at sight of whom the -gossips bowed to a most obsequious depth. - -Miss Falcon bore still upon her countenance the humorous peevishness of -the character she had just represented. - -“Why, how now?” she exclaimed. “Fie, for shame, gentlemen! What are you -doing here? If you desire to show me a compliment your place is before -the curtain, sirs! Foh! ’Tis a poor compliment to salute an actress in -her dressing-room!” - -“Why, my dearest creature!” exclaimed the chief of the fops, coming -forward, and bowing repeatedly with such an affected parade of courtesy -that Pamela’s hand itched to box his ears. “I vow and declare we are -but mustering all our energies to acclaim you after your great scene! -We would not spoil that effect, ’pon our life! Not for a hundred -thousand guineas! What’s Lady Teazle before the screen scene? No part -for your genius, incomparable Falcon!” - -“Out with you now, then!” said Miss Falcon. “Good evening, Miss Pounce. -Oh, gentlemen, gentlemen, indeed you cannot remain here! Miss Pounce -and I have the most important business on hand. La, that bandbox! It is -vastly good of you, Miss Pounce. Pray, my Lord, give the gentlemen the -lead and take them to their seats!” - -“Rat me!” said the spokesman of the fashionable group, looking round -with what Pamela thought was a very offensive leer. “If my Lord -Harborough sets the example, who are we that we should refuse to follow -it? After you, my Lord Marquis.” - -Pamela had often heard the name of the great Marquis, especially of -late, but she had never yet seen him. She now gazed at him with shrewd -eyes of disapproval. - -“Ah, my Lord, you may have a fine taste in coaches and in the horses -to draw them, and a superlative delicate taste in play-actresses, but -to my mind ’tis mortal poor taste to be bringing those grey hairs -that are under your wig, and an honoured name, and all your privilege -to the undoing of one poor girl! You should keep that smile for your -grand-nephews--Mr. W.’s brats--you should indeed, my Lord!” - -My Lord Harborough raised himself from a profound bow over the hand -which Felicity Falcon extended to him in a careless sort of way, more -as if she were dropping something out of it than yielding it to his -caress. The smile he gave her as he straightened himself was full of -ardent admiration. Although he failed to meet with her favour, Pamela -could not but admit that he had a very splendid presence, and that any -woman’s head, much less that of a young player on her promotion, might -well be turned by receiving attention from such a quarter. - -My Lord Marquis now waved the company from the room with a politely -compelling gesture, as of a host who bids his guests pass before him; -kissed his hand to Miss Falcon, and himself departed. - -“Now, my dear girl, my dear girl, the hat!” cried she, turning upon -Pamela. - -And Pamela had the strange thought that Miss Falcon--even though she -had stepped off the boards--had not ceased acting for one single -moment, and that no emotion had been more cleverly counterfeited than -the playfulness with which she was now herself addressed. - -Indeed, when Felicity Falcon first contemplated her countenance in -the mirror under that confection in which Miss Pounce considered her -own genius had reached its most perfect expression, so deep an air of -tragedy spread itself over her features that the sprightly milliner -thought in dismay, “Heaven be good to me; to see her one would think my -lovely feathers were crowning a hearse!” - -But as if she guessed her companion’s thoughts, the play-actress -instantly resumed a jocund air, and, twisting her head from side to -side, treated her own reflection to smiles of different meanings, -as though testing their effect; mischief, archness, innocent mirth, -mockery, melancholy, chased each other across her fair countenance like -shadows over a pool, and in each Miss Pounce could have cried out to -her to stay it, vowing that she was more perfect in it than the last. - -Indeed, the delicate loveliness set in the flying powdered curls, -crowned with the soft splendour of the feathers, marked, so to speak, -by the three notes of black, was a vision worth gazing upon. The sheen -of the white satin she had chosen for her robe flung up the ivory of -her shoulders and throat. Miss Pounce almost regretted to see the -obligatory smear of rouge put on each pale cheek; by which, however, -the lily fairness gained something exotic, feverish, that seemed to -match very well with the swift passion of her art. - -“It’ll be such a Lady Teazle as never was,” thought the milliner; and -was wondering whether she could yet find a seat for herself in the -theatre, when, turning suddenly dark, haunted eyes upon her, Miss -Falcon said like a child: - -“Oh, do let me find you here when I come back, you kind thing!” and, -without giving Madame Mirabel’s head woman time to reply, she added: “I -know you will,” and whisked back to the dressing-table. - -Her hand hovered over a closed jewel-case, then, shrugging her -shoulders, she drew out a string of pearls and clasped it round her -throat. - - * * * * * - -It was strange for Pamela presently to sit alone in the little -dressing-room and think of the mimic play of emotion, clash of passion -and interest that was enthralling so many scores of spectators within a -few yards of her; to think, too, of that drama of real life, so sad and -shameful, of which she had unexpectedly become a witness. - -It was contrary to her vivacious nature to sit, unoccupied and in -patience, while the world swept on its way, but to-night she had much -to engross her thoughts. All she had seen pointed to courses which, -to her straight judgment, could not but appear as evil. Yet if ever, -thought Pamela Pounce, there was delicacy and purity stamped on a human -countenance, if ever noble pride, it was on the face of the young -play-actress. - -“Why did she ask me to remain?” puzzled the girl. “If my Lord -Harborough is her protector, as he seems to be, what does she want with -a poor, honest milliner? Oh, la! to see her, so beautiful, with them -pearls, and to know what it means, I could fair cry!” - -Miss Falcon’s dresser came rushing in, declaring that there never had -been such a success as the new Lady Teazle; that the house had had her -out again and again. “And, oh, my goodness, the shouts and claps and -nose-gays flying! What a pity Miss had not been in the gallery!” - -Before Pamela had time to reply Miss Falcon herself, accompanied by a -very conspicuous group of admirers, returned to her dressing-room. Her -flush outdid the rouge, her eyes flashed. The tips of her taper fingers -rested on Lord Harborough’s wrist, and he came in leading her with an -air as though her triumph belonged to him. Behind her the sycophants -gabbled, “for all the world like father’s geese,” thought Miss Pounce. - -“Oh, my Lord, she is incomparable!” “I do assure you, Miss Falcon, when -the screen was knocked down and you stood forth I could have fallen on -my knees before you!” “’Pon honour! ’Pon honour, never was acting half -so fine!” - -The flush was fading, and the fire dying in her gaze as she turned -round upon them. - -“Pray, gentlemen, you are very kind, but I have to change my gown for -the next act. My Lord, bid your friends leave me. And you too, my Lord.” - -As bowing, kissing hands, grimacing, jostling against each other, the -little knot of gossips withdrew, obedient once more to their patron’s -wave, he himself lingered. - -“Felicity,” he said, “there never was anyone like you. My dear, you -brought the tears to my eyes.” - -When he released her hand there was a new ring upon it. The donor -hurried forth, as if, with the finest tact, to forego gratitude in -connection with a trifle, or so Miss Pounce understood his magnificent -mien. - -Felicity gazed at the object on her hand, gave a laugh which rang -scornful, dropped the jewel from her on the dressing-table, and sat -down before the mirror. - -“Now,” said she to Pamela, “take off the hat yourself, if you will. -My dresser hath so gross a touch. The hat, you know, it has made me -to-night. I owe you a vast debt of gratitude. Oh, those black feathers! -Your excellent taste, child, gave the note, I do assure you, to my -whole rendering. The tragedy, you know, and the innocence, and the -remorse.” - -It seemed to Pamela as if she were mocking herself as she gazed upon -her own countenance. She broke off. There was a knock at the door. - -“Come in,” she cried. And, as a young gentleman in mourning, with a -pale face, appeared in the aperture, she went on in an unchanged voice: -“How would it be, Miss Pounce, if I were to run a blue ribbon among -these curls? ’Twould not come amiss, I think, in the last act, to mark -the girlishness of Lady Teazle beside so old a husband. Now, my Lord, -pray be quick about your business. I have scarce five minutes to give -you! Yes, a blue ribbon, I think. You have such charming fingers, my -dear, pray pass it in yourself. Go on, my Lord, I can see you very well -in the glass, and sure, besides, I did not promise to look at you, so -long as I listen.” - -“You mean to torture me,” said the young man in a low voice. - -Had he been on the rack, Pamela thought, glancing compassionately -at his reflection, as her hands moved delicately in the actress’s -tresses, he could scarce have had a greater air of suffering. - -“Pho!” cried Miss Falcon. (“Is not that a trifle too forward, Miss -Pounce?”) “Pray, my Lord, remember, this interview is none of my -seeking.” - -“I asked to speak with you alone.” - -“Ah, but I did not promise you that! Say out, or keep silence, it -matters nothing to me.” - -“I begin to believe what I have heard,” he exclaimed hoarsely. - -Her eye flashed lightning at his image in the glass. - -“Indeed, my Lord? And that again leaves me indifferent.” - -But as she spoke she turned round on her chair. What a marvel of -loveliness she was, thought the milliner. ’Twas but natural any poor -young gentleman that loved her should be distraught upon her. He gazed -on her wildly, then broke out, clasping his hands: - -“Nay,” he cried. “I will not believe it. I will not believe it, unless -you tell me yourself. Felicity, my father is dead. I am my own master. -Look at me. Behold this black. I came straight--yes, I am not ashamed -of it--straight from the closing of my father’s grave to offer you my -hand and name.” - -He paused. - -“I ought, no doubt, to be overwhelmed at your generosity. A month ago -you were no less ardent, if I remember right, in pressing a different -proposition,” she said very quietly. - -Pamela’s heart quickened in passionate sympathy. What a world was this -for poor girls! - -“It’s not possible,” the young gentleman cried, “that you will carry -rancour so far! A month ago I was not a free agent; a month ago I--oh, -confusion! You cannot have understood. I--Miss Falcon, I am now Earl -Ashmore, and I ask you to become my countess. This is a question of -marriage. You cannot thus lightly dismiss so honourable, so respectful -an offer!” - -“Marriage!” she laughed. “I, too, am a free agent, sir, and I have -tasted liberty longer than you. I have no desire to relinquish it.” - -A moment he stood gazing at her with clenched hands and open mouth, as -if unable to grasp the extent of her folly and his own misery. Then he -snapped his jaws together and crimsoned to the roots of his lightly -powdered hair. - -“It’s true, then?” - -“What is true?” - -“What all the world says; that you’re my Lord Harborough’s--my Lord -Harborough’s----” - -He choked upon the word. - -Pamela Pounce held her breath in the dreadful silence that ensued. Then: - -“Don’t be a foolish lad,” said Miss Falcon in a changed kind voice. -“One day you’ll say, ‘Whatever the player woman may have done, she did -one good deed to me. She wouldn’t marry me when I was fool enough to -ask her.’” - -Then Felicity turned back to the mirror with a laugh that rang like -tinkling icicles, so musical it was, so cold. - -The wretched young man cast himself on his knees, lifted his clasped -hands and wrung them. He had forgotten that there was any witness, save -the one who was, at that moment, all the world to him. - -“Felicity, I don’t care what you have done--what you are to that bad -old man. I will forgive everything. Come to me and be my wife!” - -“Now, Bonnets, open the door. Miss Pounce, pray put a hand upon my -Lord’s elbow and help him to rise. That is the way out, my Lord -Ambrose. (I cannot help it. I remember best the name under which you -once insulted me.) _You_ forgive me? Had I the time I could laugh. -Heavens! But three minutes to get into the paduasoy!” - -She did laugh as the young nobleman, a look on his face which struck a -kind of terror into Pamela’s womanly heart, flung his hands out with a -menace and dashed from the room. - -“Thank Heaven, the creature’s gone! Bolt the door, Mrs. Bonnets. I’ll -have no more visitors till the play’s over!” - -Pamela Pounce was not bidden remain this time; but she could not bring -herself to leave the dressing-room until Miss Falcon’s last appearance -there. Talk of plays! What a tremendous play she had seen that night. -’Twould be like walking out before the last curtain dropped to go home -now. - -When the actress returned she was accompanied only by Lord Harborough. -As he led her in he looked at her hand. - -“I see,” he said, “you have not honoured my poor gift.” - -“My Lord,” she said, “I have honoured you sixty-five times with these -pearls. Is it not enough? As for rings, there is a slave weight about -them. I hate them. But is this really mine? Mine to do as I will with?” - -He smiled at each question, and Pamela thought that, for all his fond -admiration, there was a sort of contemptuous indulgence lurking in his -glance--that he had the air of one who says to himself, “These pretty -tricks are known; these charming moods are part of the little game. -I have not the enthusiasm of youth, but I have experience, I have -toleration, and I have patience!” - -“It is an elegant and artistic ring,” said Miss Falcon, lifting it -to the light of the wax candles which branched from her mirror. “A -sapphire, I see, and all chased.” - -“It was found,” said Lord Harborough, “in a Roman tomb. There is not -another like it in the world!” - -“And what does it represent? Oh, I see snakes about that strange little -face!” - -“’Tis a Medusa head.” - -“What?” she cried. “What an ill omen for an actress! How terrible if I -were to turn my audience to stone. Fie, I would not keep such a thing -about me for the world! Pray, Miss Pounce, will you accept this trifle -in memory of our first acquaintance and of, oh, your beautiful hat! How -kind of you, dear girl, to stay and see the last of me. Why, it just -fits your finger! Nay, I will take no refusal. My cloak, Bonnets! La, I -am mortal tired. Pray, my Lord, good night. Well, as far as the coach -then, but no further. Remember our compact!” - -“As far as the coach,” said the peer, with his disillusioned smile. “As -far as the coach at least, lovely mystery, beautiful secret! Oh, the -Medusa head would have been vastly appropriate, I assure you!” - -They went forth, and Pamela Pounce stared at her ring. She had never -felt, in all her varied energetic existence, thus puzzled and troubled. - -“Heaven ha’ mercy,” she thought, “what a prodigious bit of insolence, -to give it to me under his very nose! And, oh, lud, what’s a body to -think? Will he marry her after all and my poor Miss Sarah and Mr. W. be -cut out? She wears his pearls and drives in his coach, and yet withal -he’s to lead her no further than its door!” - - * * * * * - -“’Tis the most dreadful tale, child, that’s current,” said my Lady -Kilcroney to her friend, Nan Day, as they met in Madame Mirabel’s hat -shop. “They say my young Lord Ashmore has put an end to himself. I -met the Duke of Hampshire anon, and His Grace could scarce speak, so -overwhelmed was he. Lord Ashmore’s father was his friend and neighbour.” - -Pamela Pounce put down the dove-coloured capote she had been about to -place upon Lady Anne Day’s pretty head. She was more affected than -her customer, who looked up, knitting her brows vaguely, with small -interest in her blue eyes. - -“Ashmore?” - -“Why, Nan, he that was young Ambrose! A pretty youth, and full of -promise. It seems he was mad in love with Falcon, the actress. Did you -see her Lady Teazle last night? ’Twas a wonder, my love, but a thought -too solemn. But, oh, Pounce, child, she had a hat! You should have seen -it! With all your art, you’ve never dreamt one like it. Eglantine, -Eglantine at her best. Paris was stamped all over it. When all is said -and done there is naught like the French taste.” - -“I have always said so, my Lady,” responded Miss Pounce, “and there’s -a case upstairs full of the real Paris modes, of which I’d like your -Ladyship to have her pick this moment! Perhaps the last consignment -we’ll get for goodness knows how long, seeing the trouble over there. -Fetched at the Dover coach office by our special messenger not half an -hour ago, I do assure your Ladyship.” - -Pamela could control her voice better than her hands, and the -professional patter escaped her almost mechanically. - -“But I haven’t seen how the capote suits me,” protested Nan Day, a -little pettishly. “Kitty, what say you? I’ve been so long in the -fields. I was scarce fit to go out in a chair at Bath, so worn was -I with the sick-nursing,” complained the squire’s wife, “I have -positively forgot what a fashion looks like. Sister Susan promised to -meet me here and advise--not indeed that I care for my Lady Verney’s -taste. You are ten thousand times better, my dearest Kitty. Pray give -me your opinion.” - -“My love,” said Kitty, “in all sober earnest I am too overset to be -able to give my mind to it as I ought. That unfortunate young man! It -seems Lord Harborough cast him out of her dressing-room last night, and -there was a monstrous great scandal at the theatre door. The wretched -girl, my Lord Harborough----” - -“And what, my Lady, have you heard of it already?” said a masculine -voice behind her. And all started to behold Lord Verney in their midst. -“I thought I was the first to have wind of it, coming straight from -Brooks’s. ’Tis scarce an hour since he was picked up unconscious.” - -“Never say,” cried my Lady Kilcroney in horror, “that he had so little -discretion as to choose a club for such an act.” - -Lord Verney stared. - -“Why, Madame, you speak as if the poor Marquis had had any choice in -the matter?” - -“The poor Marquis? In Heaven’s name, collect your wits. ’Tis not Lord -Harborough who has committed suicide?” - -“Indeed, my Lady Kilcroney, the idea is sprung entirely from your -own imagination. Lord Harborough’s illness is a fit. He had scarce -interchanged a few words with a friend in the club-room when he -groaned and fell forward. Sir Richard Jebb and Dr. Jenner were at once -summoned. They could not get the blood to flow. He was still breathing, -that was all.” - -“Well, ’tis another old sinner gone to his account,” said Nan Day -philosophically. “And Sarah W. is a Marchioness--who’d have thought it? -Where is Susan? I’m not sure, Miss Pounce, that I really care for a -capote. Could you not let me see some of those French hats you spoke of -anon?” - -“Ah, Nan, you have indeed sadly lost touch with the world, child! ’Twas -a magnificent fine gentleman, a noble patron of literature and art----” - -“Ay, and of the stage, by your own showing, Kitty.” Nan Day spoke -smartly. “Pray, Miss Pounce, did you not hear me?” - -Pamela felt sick and faint. She was glad enough of the excuse to -crawl away and take a dose of the hartshorn which was kept handy in -the workroom in hot weather. When she returned to the showroom to -announce that the case was at that moment being opened--her head girl -was wrapping all last week’s inspirations carefully in tissue for the -occasion--she found the company increased by My Lady Verney and Mrs. -Lafone, and that well-known personage, Beau Stafford. He was speaking -as she entered, and the first words that caught her ear were these: - -“I call her Fair Fatality.” - -Mistress Molly Lafone’s shrill accents were then uplifted. - -“Why, Mr. Stafford,” though she was sister-in-law to the Beau there -was small love lost between them, “granting the suicide--to be sure, -the poor young man must have been mad--you cannot hold Miss Falcon -responsible for Lord Harborough’s seizure.” - -“You know a good deal, Mistress Molly, but you don’t know everything. -Young Lord Ashmore attacked the Marquis in the street last night. -There was a terrible scene between them. Ay, ladies, all on account -of that wild bird, the Falcon. Lord Harborough had to call to his -footmen--fact, I assure you! Only for the scandal he would have handed -his assailant to the watch. ’Twas the shock of hearing of the rash -youth’s dreadful end, this morning, that has been the death of him. -Ay, My Lord Harborough is dead. They were pulling down the blinds of -Harborough House as I passed along the Mall.” - -“Fair Fatality, indeed!” cried Kitty. “And her so young and handsome, -and not a six months famous yet.” - -“Oh, she’s a cunning piece!” interposed Molly. “I have heard tales of -her ways. They say none knows where she lives, nor where she comes -from, nor her real name. She wraps herself in the utmost mystery. -Probably,” went on the little lady, with her acid titter, “’tis some -grocer’s daughter! But poor simplicity has no chance, especially with -the gentlemen. You must play the romantick.” - -My Lady Kilcroney, her fingers to her lips, seemed lost in reflection. - -“Was there not a story of a duel, Mr. Stafford?” - -“A duel, Madam? Five, to my certain knowledge,” asseverated the Beau. -“And all with more or less serious results.” - -“Pshaw, ’tis like an Italian tale of the evil eye!” Nan shuddered. -“I’ll not go to Drury Lane and come under it, ’tis pos! _Pray, Miss -Pounce? Oh, no, not green! Green! Am I never to get away from it?_” - - * * * * * - -Miss Falcon’s fame did not suffer from the double tragedy of which she -had been so singularly the cause. She withdrew from the programmes for -a week after the funerals of the two unfortunate noblemen, and then -reappeared, to play to houses more crowded, more enthusiastic than -ever. The wild rumours which began to circulate about her only served -to increase the public frenzy. - -Pamela Pounce, much occupied with the Walsingham mourning, was for some -time unable to gratify her desire to see Fair Fatality act once more; -a desire which--so far was she from sharing Lady Anne Day’s fears--had -now indeed become a kind of obsession. When circumstances permitted her -at last to indulge herself, she purchased a ticket in the forefront -of the gallery, and prepared to enjoy a couple of hours complicated -emotion. To her amazement, at the end of the second act a note was -handed to her: - - “_I have just seen your kind face. Will you be a Friend to me - to-night, and come back with me to my house? If you can do me this - favour--my heart tells me you will--meet me at the stage door after - the last act._ - “FELICITY FALCON.” - -At any time the adventure was one likely to tempt a girl of Pamela’s -spirit. In present circumstances, wrought to the highest pitch -of excitement and interest by the emotions of the drama and the -personality of the young play-actress, the invitation came to her as -the magic fulfilment of a dream. Although never had Miss Falcon’s -acting been more poignant, more intense in passion and tragedy, the -milliner could hardly wait for the drop of the curtain, so eager was -she to enter upon what she could not avoid considering the more -thrilling drama still. - -The crowds that packed the theatre were so immense, and the -determination to recall the favourite so obstinate and prolonged, that -it was after considerable delay that Pamela found herself at last at -the stage door. - -An elegant, sober-looking carriage, with servants in dark liveries, -stood in waiting, and just behind it a hackney coach. - -Miss Falcon, hooded and cloaked, escorted by a group of gentlemen, -stepped forward and took her hand. - -“I knew you would come,” she whispered. Her manner was preoccupied. -“This is no place for introductions,” she went on, turning to her -escort. “Since it must be, let us even start.” - -“Sheridan,” said one who walked in advance of the others, one, indeed, -whom the milliner, with a thumping heart, scarce dared recognise as the -heir to the throne, “you accompany the ladies.” - -The two women drew back while he passed somewhat unsteadily out of the -theatre, and was, with discreet bows, ushered to his carriage by all -the gentlemen of the party, a single member of which then followed him -in. The carriage, evidently to order, moved a few paces up the street -and again halted, while the hackney was drawn to the door. - -Mr. Sheridan, followed by the other gentlemen, now came back. He -offered his right arm to Miss Falcon, and, with some exaggeration of -ceremony, which his companions seemed to find humorous, his left to -Miss Pounce. After he had handed the ladies into the hackney coach, he -paused, laughing at the door. - -“What address shall I say, sweet Falcon?” He raised his voice, as for -the benefit of those behind him. “Now for the great disclosure!” he -cried. - -Fair Fatality had a cold smile. Pamela could see her face by the light -of the links each side of the theatre portals. It was very pale. - -“Pray get in, sir,” she said; “the man knows his way.” - -As they drove off Mr. Sheridan rubbed his hands and laughed again. - -“To think that I should be sitting _vis-à-vis_ to the fairest intrigue -in all London, and actually be going to solve the mystery! Though, to -be sure, ’tis no mystery to you, ma’am, I dare swear?” - -He looked tentatively at Pamela through the gloom. - -They were turning out of a by-street into the main thoroughfare, -and Pamela, casting her glance out of the window, was startled, but -scarcely surprised, to see that the Prince’s carriage was very closely -following theirs. - -“Why, Pamela, my girl,” said the milliner to herself, “little you -thought when you set out that you’d perhaps be supping with Royalty! -But there’s one thing clear. You’ve got to stand by this poor soul -to-night.” - -Mr. Sheridan did not seem to relish the idea of conversation with Miss -Falcon’s companion. Pamela, who from the first had fancied that, though -carrying his liquor with decorum, he was far from sober, was not sorry -to see him fall into a doze. Whether on her side the actress were -asleep or not she could not guess, but she never moved nor spoke. The -drive was long, and Pamela had lost all her sense of district when the -coach was pulled up at last. But Mr. Sheridan, waking with a start and -looking eagerly about him, cried: - -“Why, this is the King’s Road! I’ll be hanged if that’s not the lodge -of Elm Park House.” - -“This, sir,” said Miss Falcon, “is Mulberry House, my poor abode, to -which you are----” she paused, and altered her phrase--“where I am this -night privileged to receive you.” - -Pamela understood she would not bid them welcome. At the same moment -the royal carriage halted in its turn; but Miss Falcon, alighting, did -not pause to pay the respect etiquette demanded. She pushed open the -gate, and went quickly across the flagged courtyard towards the little -house which stood square and solid, with pedimented portico, before -them. - -As Pamela hurried after she saw that a light shone through the -cracks of the shuttered ground floor windows. Miss Falcon inserted a -key in the lock and opened the house door. She drew Pamela into an -oak-panelled hall, dimly lit with a couple of candles in a silver -candelabra, and herself stood in the aperture. - -She dropped a profound curtsy as the Prince appeared, followed by -Mr. Sheridan and that other gentleman whom Pamela supposed to be the -equerry-in-waiting. - -“Forgive me, sir,” her voice was low and tired, and it struck Pamela -that something had gone out of it--the fire and thrill and youthful -pathos that had made it every moment an appeal--“that you should have -such a poor reception. Since I was not prepared for the honour, since -it was your pleasure to surprise me by this favour, I must beg you to -take me as I am. There are no servants here to-night.” - -She moved backwards as she spoke. Theatrical training stood her in good -stead. The movement was perfect. - -“Will you condescend to enter? Mr. Sheridan, pray close the door behind -His Highness.” - -She preceded the Prince, still backing easily, to a parlour on the -right of the entrance. It was a small, gay apartment, panelled in -white, with double doors leading apparently into an inner room. Four -candles on the centre table, burning rather low in their sockets, gave -a fairly sufficient light. - -Pamela, who slipped in, with some timidity, in the wake of the party, -perceived their hostess’s face to be deathly pale, and hurried to her -side. - -Miss Falcon caught her hand with an ice-cold grip. - -It must be confessed that the portly, elderly gentleman, who once -for his charm and youthful grace had been known as Prince Florizel, -looked discomfited to confoundment by the unexpected strangeness of the -situation. His two companions stared at each other. The sobriety they -all three needed seemed to be returning to them. - -“Will your Highness condescend to take a chair?” - -Still holding the milliner’s warm hand the play-actress stood erect. - -“Sir, it has been your pleasure to command the revelation of a secret -which concerned only my humble person. I understand even that you have -honoured me so far as to make my insignificance the object of a wager. -I trust I am too obedient a subject to disobey my future Sovereign, too -loyal not to assist him in the gratification of his sporting instincts. -With the more readiness, indeed, that at four o’clock this afternoon -my reason for wishing to keep my unimportant identity, my unobtrusive -abode from the knowledge of the world has ceased to exist----” - -She broke off. - -Not more intently had the mighty audience hung upon her lips to-night -than did now these four, her oddly entertained guests. Pamela’s heart -beat high. She felt herself as on the very edge of some fathomless -chasm of tragedy. - -“Your Royal Highness,” went on Felicity Falcon, her sweet voice hoarse, -“since it is your pleasure to know it, my name is Gwenlian Morgan. I -am the wife----” A spasm crossed her face. She caught her breath, and -went on: “I married one Evan Morgan, a Welsh preacher. Ours has been -a great love; but with him God was always first. He believed he had -a call to London. We left the fair hills and our cottage for these -dreadful streets. He failed. He fell into a decline. We had hardly any -money left. He could work no more, and he would not take charity. I had -to earn for him. How? I had to earn much and quickly or he would die. -There was only one way, and that way anathema to him. To his pure and -lofty mind the stage was always ruin and damnation!” - -Again there was a brief silence. The equerry tried to whisper to Mr. -Sheridan, but that good-hearted gentleman gave him an angry scowl. The -Prince sat breathing hard, his eyes fixed, his mouth slightly open. - -“There was but one way in which I could earn much and quickly. I took -it. I took it in secret. I began low. Fortune favoured me. I was -noticed behind the scenes by one whose notice meant advancement. Yes, -sir”--she flashed a dark look at the equerry, who murmured a name--“my -Lord Harborough was a generous patron; and then all came easy. At home -I had but to lie. Good heavens, how I lied and plotted and contrived -and deceived! But what did anything matter? There was no crime save -unfaithfulness to my Beloved that I would not have committed for his -sake. I told him I had inherited a fortune. I kept him almost from -the first in comfort. When I was able to hire this house I told him I -had sold out funds to do so. He believed me. He trusted me. He would -as soon have thought of doubting an angel, as of doubting me. And so -I--hoodwinked him. It was the easier that he had to keep to his bed. My -one servant, his nurse, deaf and silent, never pried into my comings -and goings. She believed, like him, that they were accounted for by the -chapel meetings and mission-work; by necessary relaxation and repose. I -went in and out of this house at night by the mews at the back. No one -ever saw me enter. I took care of that. To-day--to-day the doctor came. -He filled me with more hope than ever before. ‘Take him to Italy,’ he -said. ‘And ’twill be a cure!’ With four thousand pounds in the bank----” - -She stopped so suddenly that Pamela cast an arm about her, fearing she -might fall; but she clasped a rigid strength. Mr. Sheridan raised his -quizzing glass to stare at the actress’s countenance; into her pale -cheeks a fierce colour had risen. She was amazingly beautiful. - -“And so, my dear Miss Falcon--my dear Mrs. Morgan,” he cried curiously, -“you took the favourable moment of confessing your subterfuge, your -heroic subterfuge, to your pious husband! How did he bear it? A -Welshman and a chapel man! I trust it was not a shock.” - -Her eyes turned upon him as if she were bereft of the power of -understanding. - -“Mr. Sheridan means, ma’am,” cried the equerry impatiently, “how did -the good preacher bear the awful revelation? Did you not yourself -say that at four o’clock--four, wasn’t it, Sherry?--the great Falcon -mystery ceased to exist.” - -“You are right, sir,” said Fair Fatality. “When I returned from -rehearsal this afternoon I found--I saw--I knew--there was no secret -between us any more! You want to know so much about me, all of you.” -Her voice rose suddenly and piercingly. “Your curiosity shall be -gratified to the end.” - -She moved away from Pamela with a steady step, flung open the folding -doors, and pointed into the room revealed with a single magnificent -gesture. - -Grasping the elbows of his chair, fuddled, inquisitive, the Prince -of Wales lifted himself to stare. Mr. Sheridan took two strides and -brought himself up with an ejaculation. And “Damn me!” cried the -equerry, in accents of anger and fear. “This is a dashed low trick!” - -There was no need for anyone to cast a second glance into that room. -The lights and the flowers, the rigid figure on the bed, covered with a -white sheet, told their own story. The genial party were looking upon -death. - -“Oh, you poor creature! You poor, unhappy dear!” cried Pamela Pounce, -bursting into hot tears, and catching the Falcon to her heart. - -The preacher’s wife abandoned herself to the embrace; but only for the -span of a moment, not for the relief of tears, not for the comfort of -another woman’s tenderness, but because, just for that little while, -every power fell into suspense. When she disengaged herself they were -alone with the dead. Royalty and its boon companions had seized the -opportunity to retire from a scene so discomforting. - -Felicity turned an abstracted gaze into the dining-room; it was clear -to Pamela that her visitors, Royalty and all, were of less consequence -in her mind than the stray moth that fluttered round the candles. - -“Will you look at him?” said the widow. - -Pamela wished that she would cry or swoon. This composure was terrible. -Sobbing herself, she was drawn to the bedside, and, as Felicity lifted -the sheet, gazed down upon the quiet, beautiful face. The play-actress -bent and kissed the young forehead set in such majestic peace, and -replaced the coverlet, re-arranging the white roses after she had done -so. Then once more she took her companion by the arm, led her back into -the dining-room, and closed the folding doors. - -“Now you must drink a glass of wine with me,” she said, “before you go.” - -“But I will stay with you.” - -“No. No. The coach is waiting for you. The driver will take you safe -back. I prefer to be alone.” - -She went to a cupboard and drew out a decanter and a couple of glasses, -and while Pamela sat and mopped her eyes with a drenched handkerchief, -and bit her lip to keep down the rising sob, and chid herself for a -poor, vaporous wretch no use to anyone, the woman who had lost her all -poured out the wine with a steady hand; and with a steady hand did -something else besides. - -She brought the glasses to the table, gave one to Pamela, and stood -watching her while she drank. - -Then she sat down beside her, and, still holding her own full glass -between taper fingers, leant across and said: - -“Kiss me, my dear, and thank you. When I went back to him after the -rehearsal to-day, so full of joy, the woman said he was asleep, and -I bent to kiss him, and, oh, his lips were cold! His lips were cold! -Yours are warm. I wish I’d known you before. We should have been -friends. Nay, ’tis as well! I might have brought misfortune to you as -to the others. ’Tis better as it is,” she repeated rather wildly. - -And when sobbing that her own story was told and that she knew too what -a broken heart meant, Pamela would have kissed her again, Felicity -pushed her from her, and drank quickly. - -In the silence that followed, Pamela drew herself physically and -mentally together, twisted her handkerchief, patted her curls, wiped -her eyes a last time, then, in the tone of one firmly determined on the -right course of action: - -“The coach may go, I’ll not leave you!” she cried. - -She broke off. Was it the scent of the flowers from the death-chamber, -or some curious flavour in the wine? She was all at once aware of a -singular, intense smell of almonds in the air. - -“Miss Falcon, Mrs. Morgan, my dear! Oh, you’re faint, you’re ill, and -no wonder!” - -She clutched the sinking figure, but Fair Fatality had acted her last -tragedy. - -Pamela Pounce never wore the Medusa ring. She dared not; but she kept -it all her life. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -IN WHICH THERE IS A PRODIGIOUS SCANDAL ABOUT PINK FLOUNCES - - -None ever knew the share which Pamela had taken in Felicity Falcon’s -last night on earth. - -She had laid the slender figure as decently and respectfully as she -could, on a couch, kissed the cold cheek once more, and walked out of -the house. - -Those who would find her in the morning must make what they could -of the story. Pamela had her own life and those dependent on her to -consider. She could not afford to be mixed up with a scandal. - -Whether the chapel people to whose ranks the young preacher had -belonged, were desirous of hushing up the evidence which might -bring discredit upon them, or whether it were really believed that -Mrs. Morgan had died of a heart-stroke brought on by grief did not -transpire. They were buried together and given a very pious funeral -with much preaching and psalm-singing. - -The event made a profound impression upon Pamela; it revived the cruel -emotions of her recent personal experience. - -She had seen what love meant as never before; she understood its -fearful supremacy, and how little anything else mattered beside it in -life. There were times when she even envied Felicity Falcon; true, she -had loved to desperation and death, but she had loved and been loved -with a noble purity and faithfulness! - -The memory of the young Welsh preacher’s dead face, radiantly innocent, -and of the triumph, set in agony, of the actress’s countenance as she -had last seen it, haunted her continually. Death had stamped on their -mortal love the seal of eternity. - - * * * * * - -Mr. Jocelyn Bellairs had lain in wait, the whole warm June sunset hour, -till Miss Pounce should emerge from the side-door of the shut-up shop; -he followed the erect, briskly walking figure with due discretion, -and only permitted himself to catch her up at the corner of Berkeley -Square. Then he accosted her. - -“Don’t, I do beseech you,” he cried, quickly forestalling the fierce -repudiation in her eye, “don’t refuse to listen! I have not come -after you to insult you, I haven’t, upon my honour! Pamela, I want to -apologise. I want to ask your pardon.” - -His tone was so imploring and respectful, he looked so eager, so -gallant and handsome too, in the rosy amber light, as he bent towards -her, bare-headed, that her weapon of pride seemed broken in her hand. - -She tried to say with dignity: “There’s nothing more that I ever wish -to hear from you, Mr. Bellairs,” but her voice faltered, and a sudden -tear in each eye betrayed her. - -“See,” he went on eagerly. “The gate of the garden there is open. Let -us go in, and sit on that bench. Just for a little while! Five minutes! -One minute!” - -Pamela, shaking her head, and exclaiming: “No, sir. Nay, Mr. Bellairs, -I cannot listen, ’tis impossible! ’Tis wrong! ’Tis folly!” nevertheless -allowed herself to be drawn into the cool green tree-shadowed spot, and -actually sat down on the suggested seat. - -He did not as much as offer her his hand; yet his urgency drove her -almost with a physical force. - -“Oh, Pamela,” he cried, letting himself fall beside her, and clasping -his hands and wringing them, “can you conceive what I felt when I heard -that ’twas you--you!--oh, my generous girl--who paid my debt? And -to think how the first use I made of my liberty was to offend you so -grossly.” - -Pamela swallowed a sob. - -“’Tis over and done with now, Mr. Bellairs. Let me forget.” - -She tried to rise, but he caught a fold of her dress. - -“One moment more, if you have a woman’s heart. Nay, you see how anxious -I am not to presume. I will go on my knees if you like. Oh, Pamela, -when I went to pay back my Lord his ninety-seven pound ten, out of that -pocketful of money you know of, and he stared at me, and: ‘Why, man,’ -says he, ‘I never thought to see you this morning! Her Ladyship was in -one of her bad ways, and sure, if it was I had been in the sponging -house, she’d not have out with a farthing! I’ve been but waiting for -a better moment,’ says he. ‘Then who, in the name o’ God?’ cries I, -cutting him short. Pamela, I lost no time in making my _congé_ to my -Lord, and I ran all the way to that fellow Jobbins--I promise you! ‘For -I’ll get to the bottom of this,’ I cried. ‘And ’twas a lady veiled,’ -quoth he, and stuck to it, and the fool that I am, must needs think my -cousin Kitty was playing a sort of game with me; ashamed not to pay for -me, but, the stingy thing! mortal afraid lest I should ask her again! -And I went back again to Hertford Street to make a further exhibition -of myself.” - -Here Pamela could not keep from laughter. - -“You laugh! ’Tis all I deserve. Indeed, ’twas a monstrous absurd scene. -But my Lady pretty soon convinced me that the magnanimity I ascribed to -her was unknown to that bit of strass she calls her heart. By the Lord, -I think I was mad that morning altogether! I hardly know how I got out -of Hertford Street once more, and all the way down to Jobbins, for the -thought had dawned! I’ve not so many friends, you see, Pamela! ‘A tall, -fine figure of a lady,’ says he, ‘stepping as clean as your own sorrel -filly, Mr. Jocelyn. And I caught,’ says he, ‘a gleam of hair under the -veil--now, if you’ll run your eye down the row in there,’ says he, -jerking his thumb towards his stables, ‘you’ll see, third from the -door, a bit of a gloss on a hack’s back that’s just the same colour.’ -And so I knew,” added Jocelyn, with a sudden drop from his tone of -mimicry, into accents of real emotion. - -Pamela set her teeth upon her trembling lip. She made a desperate -effort after her usual fine air of independence. - -“’Twas when we were friends, I’ll have you remember, Mr. Bellairs,” she -said, with a toss of her head. - -“Ah, but Pamela, let us be friends now,” he spoke with a boyish -earnestness which made him infinitely more attractive than in his -most dashing mood of sparkishness. “’Tis just for that I have sought -you. I want your forgiveness. I want your friendship. Let me see you -sometimes, as a friend, a most respectful friend, honoured by your -acquaintance. I am a wretched, worthless fellow,” he went on, with a -kind of bitter humility. “I can’t even pay you back your loan, now, -Pamela. But grant me a chance. Let me show myself better than you have -known me. ’Pon honour, it would give me something to hope for, just to -think you’d let me see you now and again, in a kindly way; that you had -not cast me altogether out of your life.” - -It was the acknowledgment that he couldn’t pay her back that softened -Miss Pounce’s obduracy towards him. She consented to forgive him, to -consider him as a friend, even to admit the possibility that if they -met--oh, quite accidentally!--on an off-day, she mightn’t refuse to -take a stroll with him in the Green Park. - -It would seem as if nothing had changed; as if she was the same -too-trusting, foolish girl, and he the same sly, audacious villain; -yet, as she determinedly parted from him and hurried out of the garden -to her lodging, she knew that there had come a profound alteration into -their relations. - -Meanwhile the enmity excited in the bosoms of Miss Smithson and Miss -Popple against the successful milliner was far from abating. Indeed, -the mature young lady who had hoped for Pamela Pounce’s present -position had an ever-gathering sense of grievance. What if she had a -heavy hand? Were there not solid dowagers and others who preferred -substance and money’s worth to your fly-away gossamer nothings? - -Between these two important members of Madame Mirabel’s establishment, -there had come to be a tacit understanding--though they were far too -genteel and high-minded to indulge in anything like a conspiracy--that -it was their bounden duty, in dear Madame Mirabel’s interests, to keep -a sharp look-out on Miss Pounce, and report any proceeding of hers -calculated to injure them. - -“As, of course, my dear, poor Anna-Maria,” Clara Smithson would declare -of her rich business relative, “is that good-natured that times and -times I’ve had to step in, as it were, and save her from herself.” - -Miss Popple was too tactful to request specification. - -“La, you never say, dear!” she would exclaim, with unflagging emphasis. -“And what a good thing it is that she’s got you, the poor kind -creature! ’Tis what we all feel.” - -The while her private thoughts would run contemptuously: - -“As if every one didn’t know, you long-toothed old frump, that ’tis you -Madame keeps on out of charity, and has the books regular checked by a -spry young gentleman from the bank every Saturday night, private, or -they’d be in the muddle of the world before the month was out!” - -Miss Clara Smithson’s secret opinion of Miss Popple was probably no -more complimentary, but it is in the nature of things that worthy -individuals, working for a common cause, should sink personal feelings; -and, therefore, when Miss Smithson made the appalling discovery in -connection with the pink-flounced muslin of a Sunday afternoon, it was -Miss Popple to whom she confided it the first thing on Monday morning. - -That Sunday afternoon being a remarkably fine day, Miss Smithson had -accepted the offer of the married nephew in the Tobacco Trade, who was -particularly civil to her in view of her reported savings, to drive -with him in a hackney as far as Richmond Park, and partake of a choice -refection of ale and winkles by the river-side. Now, as the hackney was -rolling along the highway towards Richmond, they passed a cottage on -the outskirts of the town, a quite superior cottage residence with an -embowered garden, honeysuckle and roses. In this garden, upon a rustic -chair, a young woman was seated with a child upon her lap. She wore a -conspicuous dress of pink muslin. Her head, which was bent over the -child, was bare, unpowdered, and clothed with a profusion of bright -chestnut tresses. The child’s face, Miss Smithson was able to observe, -was very dark, almost foreign-looking, and its little curly pate, -coppery-red. - -There was something familiar in the attitude of the young person in the -flaring frock, and Miss Smithson, who was not a rapid thinker, puzzled -over it most of the afternoon. Towards the end of her last glass of -ale, neglecting the tempting offer of a final winkle which the devoted -nephew was extending to her on his tie-pin, she clapped her hands and -cried: - -“I have it!” - -Being asked to explain this strange diversion from the business of the -hour, she declined, and it was only into the sympathetic bosom of Miss -Popple that she now unfolded her theories. - -“Pamela Pounce it was, my dear, as I’m a living sinner! There’s not -another head like that on the town, I’ll swear! And a little black -child on her lap, as bold as brass! Miss is so fashionable, too, as we -all know. Foh, the hussy! It really,” said the virtuous Miss Smithson, -“makes me shudder!” - -And shudder she did, till Miss Popple thought she heard her bones -rattle. - -“I always said,” said Polly Popple, “that there was something -mysterious about that young woman’s private life. Dark, did you say, -dear? We all know the complexion of the young gentleman that used to -come here after Miss Pounce. And she’s been seen with him in the Green -Park again, most audacious of late. And what’s to be done now,” she -cried in a virtuous passion, “to get her out of the house, and not have -her contaminating us respectable females? Let’s to Madame Mirabel this -moment!” - -“Beware how you do such a thing!” exclaimed Miss Smithson, -horror-struck. “Tut, Polly! We’ve got to get things a vast more -circumspect before we take such precipitous action. The first thing to -find out is whether Miss Pounce has a gown of that impudent colour.” - -“I’ll ask her this minute!” exclaimed Popple, springing up from the -little horsehair chair and making for the door. - -“And if we do bring it home to her, Polly,” pursued Miss Smithson, -clutching her friend’s fat wrist, “far be it from me to be hard on -a fellow-creature, however perverted and brazen. I’d rather put the -matter before Miss Pounce herself--ay, and before that good creature, -her aunt, my Lady Kilcroney’s woman, who’s had a mort of trouble with -her already--and get the abandoned gal to send in her resignation, -rather than upset my cousin! Anna-Maria has a weak heart.” - -Polly Popple pondered. Both prudent virgins exchanged a look. It dawned -upon these sensitive consciences that Madame Mirabel might not be of -their way of thinking; might, in fine, be disposed to put modes before -morals, especially as custom was increasing every day and the fame of -Pounce millinery spreading far and wide. - -“Maybe you’re right,” said Polly thoughtfully. “Well, I’ll be back as -soon as I can, dear, and let you know what I’ve drawn out of her.” - -The showroom was empty of custom, the hour being still early, and -Pamela, singing a little song under her breath, was engaged, with the -bright energy which characterised her, in superintending the disposal -of the wares. She had fanciful schemes of colour differing with each -day, and subtly suited to the mood most likely to be engendered by -the weather. Thus, on a cold, bleak autumn afternoon you might find -a flamingo flame of feather calling you through the glass; and on a -torrid July morning such as the present, the coolest and most ethereal -creams and greys; or a rustic straw with a wreath of moon daisies that -would set you dreaming of the country. Even such a creation was Miss -Pounce now holding in her hand when, rather out of breath--for she was -of a stout habit and a congested type of comeliness--Polly Popple came -heavily up to her. - -“And pray, Miss Pounce,” said the assistant, while, at the abruptness -of the address, unpreceded by the usual “Good morning,” all the young -ladies turned to stare--“pray, Miss Pounce, was you by any chance -Richmond way yesterday?” - -Polly was no diplomatist. - -“And what’s that to you, Miss Popple?” responded Pamela. “As a matter -of fact, I was; but ’tain’t none of your business, as I’m aware! Girls, -what are you doing?” - -Pamela scented mischief, and resented the tone of the question, -which rang in unmistakable challenge. Nevertheless, she remained -good-humoured. - -“Perhaps,” said the other darkly, “’tis more my business than you think -of. Might I further inquire if you was wearing a pink gown, miss?” - -“Yes, Popple, I was. A pink gown, flounced to the waist, muslin. A -sweet thing it is, and suits me uncommon. Perhaps you’d like to know if -I wear a white _bouffand_ to it, and the style of hat?” - -“Oh, never mind the hat, Miss Pounce! Since you are so obleeging as -to permit me another question, might I ask if you was a-setting in a -garden a-holding of a child upon your lap?” - -The colour flew like a flag to the head milliner’s cheek and fire to -her eye. Then she abruptly turned her back upon the questioner, and the -youngest assistant, who happened to be taking a hat out of a drawer, -was surprised to see that she was struggling with a violent inclination -to laugh. - -“Ho!” - -The ejaculation leaped with a world of horror from Polly’s lips. - -Her superior wheeled back upon her. - -“Yes, Miss Popple, I was sitting in a garden, and very pleasant it was -among the roses; and I had a child upon my lap, the dearest, sweetest -little creature that ever breathed, a perfect cherub! A girl, if you -want to know, Miss Popple, and though dark, like to be a beauty.” - -The young ladies tittered, though there were looks interchanged, too. -And Pamela’s tone, tripped up with subterranean mirth, sounded to some -of them rather hysterical. - -Polly, after a dumb show of wounded female delicacy, expressively -rendered, tottered from the room as if her legs could scarce carry so -much horrified rectitude; and the incident apparently dropped. Indeed, -Pamela regarded it merely as another of Popple’s nasty bits of spleen. -A low-minded, common creature! As if her girls would be taken in by -such vile suggestions! As if the life of Pamela Pounce, head milliner, -was not as fresh and fair as her own face! - -An episode which Pamela could not but consider as curious in the -circumstances presently occurred and drove the very existence of Popple -from her mind. - -A carriage drew up to the door, early as it was--ten o’clock had not -yet struck--and a customer entered, a short, dark young woman of a -marked type of Spanish beauty, who walked with a bold cadence of the -hips that set her maize silk panniers swinging, and a carriage of the -head that you might call like that of a fawn, or of a serpent, as your -feelings towards her prompted. - -Pamela advanced in her most engaging manner. - -“What can I do for you, madam?” She broke off. “Merciful heavens!” -something within her cried. “I should know that face.” - -The newcomer fixed her with beautiful, insolent eyes. There was a gleam -of rubies in each delicate ear, and at the dusky round throat a red -fire that came and went from a monstrous clasp of the same stones, -half-hidden by laces. - -“If you will show me a hat, all black, with black feathers,” began -the lady. She had a slow voice, rich like cream, and an odd guttural -aspiration of the consonants. “Something with the Spanish air.” - -In her turn, she stopped short. The milliner had fallen back a pace, -and was looking at her with horror. - -“I think,” said Pamela, very low but very distinctly, “that you have -entered this establishment by mistake.” - -The foreign lady wheeled upon her. There was no doubt about it, with -all her beauty she was viperish. - -“Fool, my name is the Countess Sanquhar!” - -“And a very fit name for you, too!” responded Pamela. - -Upon which extraordinary observation she herself opened the door and -stood until the visitor passed out. - -You may be a beauty, and you may be the lawful wife of an English peer, -but it is difficult to keep your dignity when you are turned out of a -shop by a miserable working-woman as if you were the last of the last. -Only by doing murder on her offender could the notorious Lady Sanquhar, -who had been once the respected wife of an honest Spanish merchant, -have redeemed the situation from utter ignominy. But as she could not -do murder in actual fact, she only did it with her eyes, as, swaying -more than ever, she went forth. - -Pamela shut the door; the four assistants stared at her with one -accord. They had not known such an exciting morning for a long time. - -“Upon my word, Miss Pounce,” said Polly Popple, “you take a deal upon -yourself, you do.” - -Pamela sat down, rather white about the lips, breathing quickly through -dilated nostrils. - -“If it had got known that I’d sold as much as a feather to that -creature,” she said, “Madame Mirabel might as well put up her shutters, -for there’s not a lady of quality would have crossed the threshold of -her showroom again.” - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -IN WHICH MY LADY KILCRONEY INSISTS ON THE DUTY OF MORALITY. - - -“If you please, my Lady, might I speak to your Ladyship?” - -My Lady Kilcroney looked up from the sorrows of Miss Clarissa Harlowe, -which she was particularly enjoying, and gazed at her handmaiden. - -Lydia Pounce and her mistress had gone through, together, so many -emotions, intrigues, quarrels, reconciliations, triumphs, and despairs -that it was scarcely too much to say they had become indispensable -to each other. Therefore, too, both had grown to read each other’s -countenances with the utmost facility. Now, Lydia was pale and pinched; -her knobby little hands were clasping each other fiercely across her -neat waistband; she was visibly trembling. Lady Kilcroney knew these -symptoms. - -“What is to do, Lydia?” - -“Ho, my Lady!” - -The Abigail here clutched at her heart and turned up her eyes. - -“Dear me, Lydia,” said her Ladyship, tartly, “have they ventured to -laugh again in the pantry as you happened to be passing, or has anyone -broken into the safe and stolen my diamonds?” - -“Ho, your Ladyship, you may well ask. Heaven knows I’m prepared from -this out to be the laughing-stock of this house. Everyone may point -the finger of scorn at me. The name of Pounce is for ever blasted! As -for thieves, my Lady, there are worse thieves than will ever be hanged -walking about this moment, and treasures stolen of value far above -diamonds!” - -“Dear me!” - -“Her Ladyship wouldn’t be so easy with her ‘dear me’s’ if she knew -what’s happened. ’Tis gospel truth, my Lady, and I’m telling no -falsehood, that the thought of having to inform your Ladyship is the -bitterest part of the sorrow that has come upon me this day!” - -Kitty Kilcroney put down her book. Seeing that her maid’s eyes were -genuinely tear-stained, and that the convulsive shiverings were not all -assumed, she began to feel concern. - -“Dear me!” she said again, in quite another tone. “I trust nothing has -happened to your family--your good brother, or any of the children?” - -She broke off. Lydia, who was making the most dreadful grimaces, here -flung her little muslin apron over her head and sobbed behind it. - -“It’ll break my brother’s heart, him so respected on his own property, -as old in the name as gentry, yeomen these hundreds of years, and only -for bad times none of them ever looking to service. And ho! my Lady, -him setting such store by that girl, and me so proud of her!” - -“That girl! You don’t mean Pamela?” - -Lydia dropped the apron. - -“I do. The horrid, wicked creature. And ho, my Lady, it all comes of -encouraging idle young gentlemen and paying their debts for them, and -letting them off going to India, and if the name of Pounce is blasted, -the name of Bellairs ain’t much better, and so I tell you, fair and -square, my Lady!” - -“Good heavens!” said my Lady Kilcroney, whisking round so sharply on -the sofa that Clarissa fell in one direction, and my Lady’s cushions, -fan, and pocket handkerchief in the other. “Never tell me that that -silly young man is--has been--can be----” - -“He was, he is, and as to can be, your Ladyship knows yourself what -young gentlemen are! Oh, to think of its going on so long, though -indeed, I might ha’ known! Haven’t I seen them walking together on a -Sunday afternoon, times and again, and it’s all head toss and ‘How dare -you, aunt?’ if so much as a word of warning is given!” - -“Jocelyn Bellairs! But what has been discovered? What proof have you?” - -“Oh, la!” The fire of excitement was drying up the elder Miss Pounce’s -tears. “’Tis all over Mirabel’s already. Proof, my Lady? Wasn’t the -unfortunate girl seen sitting in a garden last Sunday in a secret -cottage, with a dark baby on her lap? _A dark baby, my Lady!_ And think -of Mr. Bellairs, as black as my shoe! And her, as Miss Smithson--that’s -the book-keeper, my Lady--who has just left me, said to me, as bold as -brass, all in the sunshine. And she ain’t denied nothing, neither.” - -“Who? Pamela?” - -Kitty was falling from amazement to amazement. She had seen a vast -deal, one way and another, of Madame Mirabel’s milliner, and if ever -there was, in her opinion, an honest, sensible, good-living young -woman, it was Pamela Pounce. - -“She don’t deny it. Miss Popple up and taxed her straight out, and she -as good as admitted it. Not a bit ashamed, either.” - -“Foh!” my Lady fumed. “Surely you’re not going to condemn your own -flesh and blood on hearsay, woman?” - -“My Lady,” Lydia began to pant, as if she suddenly remembered how hard -she had been running. “I’m back from Madame Mirabel’s this moment, and -seen Pamela, and oh, the audacity of her! Laughing in my face, and -tossing her head! ‘And ’tis true,’ cries she, ‘the little rogue is -dark. And if I prefer ’em dark,’ says she, ‘what then?’” - -“‘Ho, Miss,’ says I, ‘your taste lies in the dark line,’ says I. -‘That’s no surprise to me you bold hussy!’ And then, my Lady, you’ll -never believe it, she regular insulted me. - -“‘Well,’ she says, ‘and if I do prefer a dark gentleman, ain’t a body -free to have their fancy? There’s you,’ she says, ‘as likes them fat -and cat-footed, with a wheeze and a paunch,’ referring, my Lady, to the -attentions Mr. Blandfoot is paying me. And then I answers her back: - -“‘I’m sure, you wicked girl, if Mr. Blandfoot and I ever agree to -settle, it’ll be as man and wife, respectable _and_ respected.’” - -“‘Why, lud, aunt,’ she says, ‘you have a nasty mind.’ And more than -that, my Lady, I couldn’t get out of her, it being her busy time. -And--oh, dear, to be sure!--was there ever such a desperate bit of -work? Her getting on so well, fought over by the ladies, I may say!” - -Lady Kilcroney allowed the lamentations to continue without -interruption for some time, her own thoughts being concentrated on the -painful problem. The more she reflected upon it, the more, alas! she -began to believe in the story. - -Old Bellairs’s nephew was a sad dog--a handsome, plausible, dashing, -insidious rascal--she knew that. And that he had pursued Pamela with -his attentions, she was also aware. The girl’s attitude of defiance -could hardly go with innocence, and there was that strange story about -the debt. Now, Kitty liked Pamela, and she had a certain sympathy, too, -with a spirit that refused to humiliate itself on a question of private -conduct. - -“I trust no one has ever been able to say of me that I am otherwise -than strictly virtuous,” she thought, “but I can’t abide these prying -prudes that think ’tis their business to show up any poor child that’s -made a slip in her time.” - -“And, ho, my Lady,” concluded Lydia, “they’ve kept it from Madame -Mirabel, on condition that my niece resigns her situation.” - -“Now, look here, Lydia, stop sniffing. If ’tis my poor dear Bellairs’s -nephew that wronged the girl, I’ll see that he makes reparation. He -shall marry her. Leave it to me. Leave it to me, I say! I’ll have the -truth out of them both, and then I’ll join their hands, I swear it, -before I’m two days older!” - -Kitty was one of those whose plans are swiftly conceived and whose -impatient spirit will not brook an instant’s delay in their execution. -She sat down that very moment to write to her graceless relative. - -“He must not guess,” she thought, as her quill ran with little squeaks -and pauses--“he must not guess that he is to be brought to book, or -my young gentleman will have a thousand good reasons for declining to -present himself.” - - “_Dear Nephew Jocelyn_,” wrote she, very silkily--“_Pray come and - visit me this next Thursday afternoon at three of the clock. It is a - long time since we have met, and there is a little matter----_” - -Here Kitty stopped and nibbled at her pen. How could she bait the trap -so that the fox should fall into it? - - “_a little matter which I wish to discuss with you. I think when you - hear what it is, you will agree ’twas worth wasting half an hour on - your attached aunt-in-law_, - “KITTY KILCRONEY.” - -Kitty shook the pounce-box over the sheet, folded, superscribed, and -affixed with a pat a knowing little wafer which bore the semblance of a -rose with the touching motto: “Sweet unto death.” - -Then, popping her round chin on her clasped hands, she gave herself to -reflection, quite a minute’s reflection. - -“If you want a thing well done, do it yourself. There never was a -sounder saw. I’ll not trust Lydia.” - -My Lady took up her pen again. - - “_My good Pounce_”--thus ran the quill--“_Pray present yourself here - on Thursday at three o’clock, bringing the dark baby about which - there’s such a to-do. I think I have proved myself a friend to you; - do you prove that you recognise it by falling in with my desire._ - - “K. KILCRONEY. - - “_P.S.--I was never more anxious to act well by you than in this - instance._” - -Having despatched these missives, my Lady kept her counsel; and when -the answers came--Mr. Bellairs’s reply accepting rather effusively, -with indeed, as his benefactress felt, not without some malice, a -lively sense of favours to come; and Pamela’s in four respectful lines -couched in the best millinery phraseology--the plotter locked them into -her bureau, and forbade Lydia to mention the subject to her again, if -she valued her situation. - -On the Thursday afternoon fixed for the meeting my Lady Kilcroney -thoroughly prepared to enjoy herself. There was nothing she more -relished than the ruling of a difficult situation. She had no qualms as -to the extent of her genius; she had no inconvenient scruples as to her -wisdom. - -The nephew of her late poor Bellairs had, it seemed, wronged the young -person in whom she took an interest. He should be made to right that -wrong, or her name was not Kitty Kilcroney. - -When the hour approached she clothed herself in garments subtly adapted -to her role, rich in texture, yet grave in hue; a mulberry satin, to be -precise, brocaded with amber roses. Her toilet accomplished, she flung -a satisfied look into her mirror. ’Twas a bit heavy for a summer’s day, -but really, with the old deep-hued lace at throat and elbows, mightily -becoming. - -Then she wheeled upon her maid. - -“Now, Lydia,” ordered she, “you are not to show your nose till I bid -you. I’ll not have you poking it into my arrangements. It’s a deal too -sharp and fond of prying, as it is. Ay, I do expect your niece and Mr. -Jocelyn Bellairs. And, no, I haven’t told you anything about it. I’m -to manage this business or I wash my hands of it. If you goggle your -eyes any more, Lydia, they will drop out! Nay, I will not permit you a -word with Pamela. Nay, not so much as a look at her. You will keep to -your premises till I ring my bell.” - -Lydia tossed her head a good deal, and was sure she was very grateful -to her Ladyship. And no one could accuse her of wanting to interfere, -Heaven knew! And, as for looking at that creature’s bold face again -till she was an honest woman, it was enough for her the last time. -Heaven was her witness that she’d had a queasiness at the pit of the -stomach ever since! - -Having issued her instructions, Kitty sailed downstairs, turned the -astonished Kilcroney out of his library, which had, she considered, a -more judicial appearance than the gold-and-white drawing-room, ordered -my Lord, in the determined tone which he never resisted, to his club -till dinner-time; rang for a couple of footmen to remove my Lord’s -tankard, pipe and other witnesses of loose living from the premises, -and sat herself down in a large leather arm-chair to await the sinners. - -Three had not yet struck from the grandfather clock in the corner when -Mr. Jocelyn Bellairs was announced. He entered with rather less of -the conquering air than was his wont. No doubt a very handsome youth, -and vastly improved in manners, thought Kitty, noting the exact depth -of his bow and the decorous air of homage with which he kissed her -extended hand. Attired, too, with a quiet elegance, which, considering -that the hand he saluted was the one which had frequently paid his -tailor, was, my Lady considered, well chosen. - -“Pray sit down, Nephew Jocelyn. I am glad to see you.” - -When she had resumed her position in the seat of justice, and he had -deferentially placed himself in a high-backed chair--a little too near -her, she thought, for proper respect, but some slight familiarity might -be pardoned to a relative--he looked at her interrogatively, and there -ensued a silence. - -It was not Kitty’s policy to put him at his ease by small talk; rather, -indeed, through a certain measured severity, to awaken stirs of -conscience. And as now his fine brown orbs took the inward roll which -she knew betokened self-searching, she kept an immovable countenance, -looking down at her brocade lap and smoothing a fold here and there -with delicate, be-ringed fingers. She had considerable knowledge of the -world, this spoilt, pretty child of fortune! - -“I’ll wager,” thought she, “he’s counting up his debts, and wondering -which I’ve heard of, and never giving a thought to his horrid -immorality.” - -Mr. Bellairs cleared his throat, glanced uneasily at his hostess, began -a sentence on the subject of the weather, broke off in the middle and -said, with a plunge: - -“Here I am, then, Aunt Kilcroney, agreeable to your command!” - -“And, indeed, ’tis no less than your duty, I should think. ’Tis a vast -of time, sir, since you have done me the honour to call upon me. Yet I -think each quarter day brings you the wherewithal to remember me by, to -say the least of it.” - -He looked at her with an expression in which relief and disappointment -struggled. Was it only to keep him to heel, like a well-trained dog, -that she had sent for him? Was there nothing but huffiness at his lack -of assiduity to account for her air of disapproval, or had she heard -of that little bill to which my Lord Kilcroney had so good-naturedly -set his name? Or of that ruffling night at the Cocoa Tree when he had -lost four hundred pounds to my Lord Sanquhar, and thereafter raised the -money to settle it with Mr. Aaron, on my lady’s own banker’s order to -himself? A transaction which might have been ruin indeed if the most -generous girl in all the world had not got him out of the sponging -house in time. Here his cogitations came to an abrupt end, and the very -person in his thoughts stood in the doorway. - -He got up, all amazement, as my lady too, majestically rose. What in -the name of Heaven brought Pamela Pounce hither, and why, by all that -was crazy, was she carrying a little dark child in her arms? - -The young man flushed, bit his lip, and trembled with a sudden fury. -By Heaven, if Pamela had gone behind his back to tattle to my Lady, he -would--yes, dash it, he would pay her back and never speak to the chit -again! - -“Is this the child?” said Kitty, with a bell-like tone of melancholy. - -Pamela curtsied with great deliberation for all reply, and, at a wave -of Kitty’s hand, gracefully sat down, settling her pretty burthen in -her lap. - -It was a little girl, beautiful in a dark way, with devouring brown -eyes. She was exquisitely dressed in a lawn frock, with insertion and -mignonette trimming. The Princess Amelia could not have been finer -clad, thought Kitty, and as Pamela took off the straw hat with the -ostrich feathers and revealed an ordered tangle of copper curls, which -would one day be night-black, threaded through with a faint blue -ribbon, my lady could hardly restrain a cry of admiration. - -Kitty stood and looked at Mr. Bellairs. He was in the throes of -undeniable agitation. She looked at Pamela, serene and, as she gazed -down at the child, Kitty thought, lovely, with a maternal softening of -her bright, handsome face. - -“Ah, Jocelyn Bellairs!” cried Lady Kilcroney, dramatically, “you may -well turn away. You may well feel that sight were more than you can -endure. But raise your eyes, sir. Behold, behold, and let your heart -speak. Can you call yourself a man and refuse that trusting creature -her rights, refuse that exquisite cherub a father’s name?” - -“Good Lord!” cried Jocelyn. He cast the hat he had been clasping under -his arm into the middle of the room, the better to clutch his temples. -“Am I stark, staring mad? What monstrous stroke is this, what plot, -what inconceivable mistake?” - -There was such a ring of truth in his accents that my Lady shot a -doubting glance at Pamela, but conviction returned upon her as she saw -this young woman bending over the child so as to hide her face, and -shaken with hysterical emotion. - -Kitty drew a long breath, and started again. - -“Do not think, nephew, that by adding deceit to your vileness, you can -make a better situation for yourself. Far from it. I have not sent for -you here to-day to rebuke or even to reproach. My sole desire is to -help you both. Heaven forbid that I should be hard on any woman who has -been betrayed by her own heart! - -“Pamela, if you had confided in me ere this--nay, never mind now! -Suffice it that I know all. As for you, sir, I am well aware that -gentlemen think all too lightly of a woman’s virtue; that if their -fancy leads them to court in a lower class than their own, the most -hitherto virtuous and confiding female becomes, to use their own horrid -words, fair game. - -“But I’ll not have Pamela Pounce treated so! She’s far too good for -you, sir, and so I tell you straight. And the proposal which I am about -to make to you is for her sake, and not for yours. You shall marry this -good young woman--good but for you, you scamp!--and I shall make it my -business to place you in an advantageous position out of England. I’ll -pay your debts again, sir, and set you up. I have not thought where -yet, but it shall not be India, for the little angel’s sake----” - -Here she stopped suddenly. Her eye strayed to the child, and she saw, -to her utter amazement, that the young milliner was laughing, not -weeping. - -“Pamela Pounce!” she cried, in a scandalized voice. - -Pamela got up and set the child on the floor. - -“Will your Ladyship observe the little one? She is small for her age, -I know, nevertheless it is plain to see she is over two years. How old -are you, Carmelita? Tell the lady.” - -The child, who had maintained a solemn observant silence during the -whole proceeding, her great eyes roaming from one person to another, -while she contentedly sat on Pamela’s lap, now looked up into her -friend’s face with a roguish smile. - -“Tell the pretty lady.” - -“Tell you,” said the child. - -“Well, then, tell Pamela.” - -But with the perversity of its sex and years, the child was here seized -with overwhelming giggles and buried its head in Pamela’s skirt. - -Kitty was staring with her mouth and eyes open, while a dawning sense -of something utterly ludicrous and amazing showed itself on her face. - -“If her Ladyship will kindly tax her memory,” Pamela spoke in -ineradicable bonnet-shop phraseology--“to the extent of recollecting -that I met Mr. Bellairs for the first time on the doorstep of this -house but eighteen months ago, she will realise that----” - -“Enough! Enough!” cried Kitty. - -She waved her hand, fell back into her arm-chair, pressing her filmy -handkerchief to her lips, trying to check her peals of laughter. -Perhaps she was not quite so overwhelmed with merriment as she -pretended. Perhaps she felt that the only way of mitigating the supreme -ridicule of her situation was by being the first to laugh at it. - -As her patroness laughed, Pamela waxed serious, while Jocelyn Bellairs -stood scarlet and indignant, the picture of offence and injured -rectitude. - -“I little thought, my Lady, when those cats at Mirabel’s got hold of -my cat of an aunt--begging your Ladyship’s pardon--and started this -scandal against me, and all along of seeing my pink flounces at tea -with old Madame Guturez, this darling’s grandmother, I little thought -your Ladyship would be ready to believe such an outrageous bit of -spiteful nonsense. - -“When they upped and attacked me, says I to them, ‘Mind your own -business!’ Heaven be good to me,” said Pamela. “I wasn’t going to -stoop to defend myself to them, and if I hadn’t been the best-natured -girl in the world, I’d have gone straight to Madam Mirabel, and told -her then and there of their plot! - -“And as for Aunt Lydia--well, her ladyship knows herself. Those old -maids have the minds of I don’t know what. It’s enough to be young and -good-looking for them to think the worst of you. And her a-drawing in -Mr. Bellairs so shameful. I don’t mind confessing to you, my Lady, that -the more that poor old thing shook and shivered, and went on at me, the -more I thought it would be a fine joke to let her give herself away. -But when it comes to your Ladyship----” - -“Well, well,” said Kitty, not quite liking the tirade, with pansy eyes -rather angry over tightly smiling lips. “You had but to write me three -words of explanation, Pamela----” - -“Begging your Ladyship’s pardon, if I’d explained ever so, your -Ladyship wouldn’t have believed. No lady would ever believe a poor -girl accused like me, if she didn’t bring up proof. And allow me to -point out, your Ladyship,” went on the milliner, with a flourish, as -if she were indicating some remarkable feather or trimming, “that -your Ladyship having merely wrote me to come round with the child, it -wouldn’t have been becoming in me to be attributing meanings to your -Ladyship’s commands.” - -The fire went out of Kitty’s eyes, for she was a just woman; she -laughed again, and this time with a genuine ring. - -“Why, was there ever such a girl! And I so moved over your story, and -so yearning over the child, and so stirred up, ready to threaten and -appeal. And so pleased with myself to be standing such a friend to you, -and bringing Master Jocelyn to book so clever!” - -“Nay,” said Pamela, “she’s not mine at all.” Here she swung the little -creature up into her arms, and hugged her. “And I’m sure I wish she -was. There, I don’t know what I wouldn’t have gone through to have -such a little darling as this all my own! No, she’s not mine, your -Ladyship. Poor innocent. Ah, ’tis cruel! It’s worse than no mother at -all she has, her that’s the child of the wretch that calls herself Lady -Sanquhar.” - -Both Kitty and her nephew-by-law cried out at this; Master Jocelyn was -shaken from his injured mood by sudden memories. - -“What, that odious, bold-faced, dressed-up strumpet!” exclaimed Kitty, -“driving about in the park in his Lordship’s curricle, and brazening it -at the Opera, till a woman of virtue scarce knows which way to look!” -and: - -“The Spanish woman that ran away with Lord Sanquhar!” shouted Mr. -Bellairs, “whose husband was shot before my very eyes as he was trying -to stop her? Aye, aye, I remember there was a little child.” - -“And only three days ago,” said Pamela, “I turned the woman out of the -shop. ’Tis transported she’d be, if justice were done.” - -At this my Lady Kilcroney stepped across the room and embraced Miss -Pamela Pounce. Then she kissed the child, too, with lingering, repeated -caress, that round velvet cheek stirring irresistible motherly passions. - -“And it shall have a cake, it shall, and nice chockey to drink, it -shall, the pretty rogue! Ring the bell, Jocelyn.” - -Having obeyed, Mr. Bellairs advanced, nostrils dilated, swaggering a -little as he came, with a defiant smartness which did not sit ill on -him. - -“I presume, Aunt Kilcroney, that as there is nothing else upon which -you can desire to confer with me, you would wish me to withdraw. -Nevertheless, there is one word I should like to say in your hearing to -Miss Pamela Pounce. Will you spare me a hand, Pamela. Thank you. I kiss -this honest hand, this honest, kindly, helpful hand, and I say that if -you will condescend to bestow it on me, I will----” - -But Pamela drew away her fingers, and curtsying, child and all, said -with great dignity: - -“Thank you, Mr. Bellairs, I have no intention of changing my state.” - -Kitty looked doubtfully from one to the other. Had he been in earnest? -She saw that Pamela did not think so, for the girl had coloured to the -roots of her hair, and tossed her head. She would have no gentleman’s -pity or condescension. - -The countenance of the young man was inscrutable, as he bowed very low, -turned on his heel, and left the room. - - * * * * * - -It was past nine that evening before Madame Mirabel’s head milliner -had sufficiently made up her afternoon’s holiday to be able to leave -the workroom. There was a purple twilight over the whole busy town, -and the lamplighter was going round with his ladder, leaving a jonquil -flame behind him at long intervals. Here and there a torch flared in -a link. The streets were full of the sound of feet, the quick feet of -those hurrying home, the slow feet of the strollers. Pamela was tired; -the day had been a long and agitating one. She paused a moment on the -pavement, outside the shop, to inhale the warm air, and to enjoy the -sense of leisure, at last. Her mind worked mechanically. - -“A twist of purple net on dark blue satin, with a tuft of orange -feathers. ’Twould be a new combination and vastly genteel. (’Twould -suit my Lady Kilcroney too, with her pansy eyes.)” - -Some one came up behind her with a quick tread that suddenly faltered. -Then a voice called her: - -“Pamela!” - -“La, Mr. Bellairs, what a start you give me!” - -“May I go a little way with you, Pamela dear?” - -“There now! If that isn’t a gentleman all over, and me having only just -re-established my character! A-waiting for me again outside Madame -Mirabel’s, with goodness gracious knows how many cats’ eyes a-spying on -me from behind the shutters!” - -Something about the girl’s gay courage, her sane, bright outlook on -life, touched him at a spot already exceedingly vulnerable. Anyone -else, he thought, would be having the vapours over this afternoon’s -work; reproaching, weeping, lost in self-pity and recrimination. He -reflected, too, how it might have been, had she listened to him one -winter’s evening, and one summer’s day. A girl in a thousand! His mind -had been already made up, but he ratified the inner decision with an -ardent leap of the heart. - -They went on side by side, till they reached the Park, and then she -remembered again, how, a few yards away, nearly two years ago, she had -snatched a pistol from him. He stopped her, and spoke. - -“Pamela, I asked you to give me your hand to-day. I ask you again to be -my wife. Oh, when I saw you stand with the little dark child in your -arms, which they thought was ours, I vowed you were the one woman in -the world for me! Oh, I have been a base wretch! I owe you money, I owe -you my honour. I owe you my life. I owe you something more worth than -all these; the only real, the only pure love I have ever known. Pamela! -You’ll make a man of me yet, if you’ll have me.” - -She had once been shaken, flattered by his attentions; had looked up -at him as a being, splendid, dashing, gallant, altogether out of her -sphere. When he had courted her, it was as if a god had stooped. But -this evening he was something quite different to her: a weak, wild -youth whom her love might steady; a spendthrift, a gambler, an amiable -prodigal for whom she might prepare the fatted calf, whom her ring -might bind to home; one, in fine, who had need of her. It was the -mother in her who smiled on him now with wet eyes. - -Under a high moon, and a sky full of stars they presently discussed -plans that seemed to Pamela to combine the bliss of Eden with the -practicality of a work-a-day world. - -“I’ll not give up my business, sir! I’ll never pretend to be other than -I am. No false lady airs for me!” - -“You wouldn’t be Pamela if there were. You shall do exactly what you -like! But I’m going to work too. Indeed, my dearest girl, I will! And -we’ll have that cottage somewhere in the green, not too far but what -you can get the coach of a morning.” - -“Oh,” cried Pamela, clasping her hands and laughing. “I’ll have roses -in the garden, and sit out of a Sunday in a pink muslin dress with -flounces!” - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -IN WHICH MY LADY KILCRONEY MAKES AN INDELICATE FUSS - - -My Lord Kilcroney had none of your nasty prudish minds that think -harm of a kiss. To salute a rosy cheek, or clasp a trim waist came as -natural to him as to toss off a tankard of brown ale, or light his -long clay, or sit in the sunshine. And indeed, my Lady, knowing him, -had as a rule an indulgence for such peccadilloes; the merest shrug of -the shoulders or a “Fie for shame, my Lord!” in a voice scarce more -indignant than that in which she chid the littler Denis for putting his -fingers in the sugar bowl. But the mischief was in it, this summer at -Weymouth, Kitty being in attendance on her Royals, that such a change -should come over the whole spirit of the whilom sensible spouse. - -Such a hullaballoo over a kiss! If ever there was anything likely to -drive a really faithful husband to desperate courses, it was this -unexpected, undeserved, severity. - -Unfortunately he had been unlucky in his choice of partner for the -peccadillo. Molly Lafone’s smooth cheek, fine grained as a geranium -leaf, and as delicately rouged as a miniature, Molly Lafone’s cheek, -ethereally tinted, had the quality of pitch in the eyes of the other -ladies, and the touch of it defiled. - -My Lord, puffing at his clay in the County Club at Weymouth, with an -air half humorous, half defiant, and thinking back on that same cheek -with a certain complacence, might perhaps have altered his opinion on -the whole matter had he been aware how neatly Mrs. Lafone had timed -the episode for the passage of the Queen’s equipage. - -They had met, quite accidentally, on the parade. - -“Oh, my Lord Kilcroney,” quoth she. “Is it indeed you?” - -Her victim as good-humoured and devil-may-care as you please, brought -himself up with a wheel and a flourish. - -Molly was clasping her hands. It was her trick to go like a snowdrop in -the dawn, when the rest of womanhood flared carnation on the cheek. Her -small faintly tinted face was absolutely irradiated. - -“Is it indeed you, Denis Kilcroney? I declare ’tis like meeting the sun -in a fog to see you! Oh, your kind look, my Lord, and your good smile! -This place----” She broke off. - -“How now!” said he, gallantly saluting a pearl-like inch of wrist -between rumpled glove and race ruffle. “What’s wrong with the place, -Mrs. Lafone? Troth, and I thought it was the St. James’s over again, -for every ten steps don’t I come across a friend! And this is the -best meeting of all,” he added, with another bow, another kiss, and -a still broader smile, for--deuce take him!--the little thing had -been monstrous glad to see him, there was no mistake about that, and -he was nothing if not responsive. “And as for the sun,” he went on, -straightening himself, and gazing down at her rather fatuously. “Isn’t -the great orb of Royalty shining on Weymouth this minute?” - -Now Molly Lafone knew how to play such an one as Denis Kilcroney, as -a skilful angler plays a fish. She had hooked him with that glance of -innocent joy: now she drove the crochets in more firmly by an air of -flutter which would have melted any masculine temperament. - -(“Oh, I have betrayed myself,” her tremor, her shy butterfly glance, -her sigh, her shaken laughter proclaimed.) - -“Oh, the Royal orb,” she murmured. “Oh, my Lord!” Then, “Aye, true, -indeed. Oh, as you say! The orb and sceptre. George----” here a gleam -of mischief came like April sunshine to drive the shadows from her -pretty, abashed countenance. Her faltering voice took a saucy note. -“George and his Dragon,” she whispered, tittered, put her finger to -her lip. “Oh, the mortal dullness of it! I’m a Parson’s daughter, as -your Lordship knows, and brought up prodigious proper, but I vow and -declare that if anything could make me wish--want to shake off my sense -of piety and virtue--what am I saying? Good heavens, my Lord Kilcroney! -You are but just arrived; but if Windsor is pompous and dull, Weymouth -is--Oh!” she yawned. - -Kilcroney was eyeing her, his sides shaking with mirth, but at the -words pompous the laughter left his lips, he scratched his chin. - -“Well, now that you mention it, my dear,” he murmured, “it struck me -there was a certain tedium in the air.” - -“Oh, tedium!” cried Molly, and went off on another yawn. - -As she yawned, he reflected. Pompous, she had said. There had -distinctly been a shade of pomposity about his Kitty, as, just landed -from the coach, he had hurried to embrace her, scarce eighteen hours -ago. - -“Heavens, Denis, not in full view of the window. The Princesses are -fond of an evening walk. And good gracious, my Lord, what a coat to -travel in, and the King’s gentlemen always point-device! And pray, dear -Denis, let me send for the hairdresser, for if Her Majesty was to see -you, such a show, down the parade, and she so set against the Irish, I -scarcely know how I could bear myself in her Presence.” - -This was the welcome Denis had had the day before; and it had somewhat -clouded his morning thought. It had taken all the comfort of his recent -passage through the hands of a first-class barber, and of as good a -tankard of burnt Sherry as ever he had tasted at the County Club, to -restore him to the good humour in which Mistress Lafone had found him. -He now thought back upon his grievance, and as is often the case, with -an increased sense of injury. - -“’Pon me soul, you’re in the right of it! And what in the world my Lady -and the rest of them want to be hanging on the Court for, this way, -passes me. Glory be to God, doesn’t weariness ooze out of them all? -It’s sodden they are with it.” - -“Weariness,” echoed she again. She glanced up at the black-faced clock -with the white figures on the church tower across the way. The sea was -on the other side of them; the foam-capped waves tossing and furling -and pursuing each other in playful frolic like myriads of lambs on a -deep blue field. There was a gay sky to match, and a gay wind, full -of an intoxicating tang, and it blew Mistress Lafone’s shot green -taffety into balloons, and silvery liquifactions, and fluttered her -light curls, and set the long amber streamers of her rustic hat flying -like pennons. She glanced back from the clock to my Lord’s face, and -her eyes danced and flickered as if the sea were in them, and suddenly -filled with huge tears. - -“’Tis not the weariness, I mind,” she exclaimed with a sob. “’Tis the -cruelty!” - -“Why, you poor little bird,” quoth he, tenderly compassionate. “Could -anyone be cruel to you?” - -“Oh, indeed, they are, my Lord, and I can’t think how I have offended -them! Oh, the slights, the unkindnesses! And my Lady Kilcroney, your -own dear lovely lady, my Lord, what hath she against me.... Oh, I do -assure you,” cried Mrs. Lafone, raising her voice piteously, as the -measured trot of royal horses beat upon her ear. “I’ve cried myself to -sleep, night after night. And when I saw your face, ‘here’s one,’ I -said to myself, ‘who will be a little kind to me!’” - -The wind--it certainly was a naughty wind, as if it, too, were a rebel -against the decorum imposed by the presence of Royalty--came rushing -up from the wide ocean and caught Mistress Lafone in a positive whirl, -seizing her with a great beat of invisible pennons as if about to fly -away with her. - -“Oh! oh!” she cried. Her light figure swayed and seemed to lift. She -flung out her arms. What could my Lord do but catch her? And holding -her, what could he do, but kiss her? For there were tears on her -delicate face which melted him, and sparkles behind them which dared -him; and what’s a kiss when all is said and done? - -The Royal carriage wheeled by them, and Kitty, sitting bolt upright -opposite the Queen, had a good view of her erring spouse and his -infamous companion for the whole length of the parade. It can scarcely -be credited: the culprits, as they gazed back at her, were laughing. - -The matrimonial course of the Kilcroneys had been fond, but as anyone -who knew my Lady might guess, it had been variegated. She had a quick -temper, an impatient spirit, and a detestation of monotony; withal -the soundest heart in the world. So that never did couple so often -fall out, or so fervently make it up, as they. My Lord, who was of an -easy-going temperament, who loved and admired his Kitty in all her -moods, rather enjoyed these connubial storms. - -“Begad,” he would say, “there never was anything to equal a dash of red -pepper for making a man enjoy the taste of the wine afterwards.” - -But now my Lady’s wrath took an unpleasant form; one which, in -its turn, aroused his resentment. It drove him even to a certain -bitterness, as he sat in the bow-window of the County Club, pulling at -his long clay. It drove the complacent memory of Molly Lafone’s smooth, -pert cheek from his mind as with a sting. - -“’Pon me word,” he said, swinging his leg. “A man would think it was -the leper I’d made of myself! Split me, Verney, if me Lady doesn’t -whisk away her skirts as she crosses me path! And never a word out of -her since she first had at me--Bejabers! I’m not like to forget that in -a hurry! But it’s pinched lips and dropped eyes and turn away with her -till I’m crazy.” - -Squire Day and my Lord Verney gazed with compassion on the sinner, the -compassion that is the worst kind of condemnation. Then Squire Day -said, a little drily: - -“’Tis a pity that the occasion should have been quite so public.” - -And my Lord Verney, drawing in his turn the clay from his lips, burst -out: - -“Susan says--My Lady Verney hath it that ’twas Mistress Lafone’s very -plan, to show you up before their gracious Majesties and shame Kitty.” - -Kilcroney stared a moment with widening eyes and dropping jaw at the -speaker. Then the crimson rose in his handsome dissipated face. - -“Ah! God help you!” he exclaimed, “if that isn’t the ladies all over. -’Tis the down of the world they have on that poor little creature. And -what in the name o’ God should she want to be playing such a thrick -for? And sure, oughtn’t I to know, ’twas the innocentest----” he broke -off, for Squire Day’s laugh was loud. - -“Innocent?” he repeated. “My dear Kil, ’tis you who are as innocent -as Adam! But I’m with you on one point. The ladies have treated that -little Lafone monstrous cruel. I doubt if they have as much as let her -nibble a macaroon with them since they came down here. And your Kitty -has given the lead.” - -“My Kitty!” exclaimed her spouse in a generous heat. “Why, man, she’s -picked that same Molly out of a hundred scrapes. Sure, Lafone’s no more -sense than a child. Why, she owes my Lady----” - -“Ah,” said Squire Day, quietly, “she’s one who pays back with interest.” - -Kilcroney stared again. - -“I’ll be hanged if I know what you’re driving at, men,” he began, but -suddenly fell silent with fixed eyes. - -His arm-chair was opposite the door, which had now been quietly opened; -a fine portly gentleman walked in as if the place belonged to him. - -“Tare and ’ounds, lads,” cried the Irishman, under his breath. “Here’s -His Royal Highness!” and sprang to his feet. - -The next instant the club-room rang with shouts of mirth. - -“By the Holy Father! Stafford! Ned, me boy, I took you for the Prince -of Wales. ’Pon me living soul, I did. Oh, Ned, Ned! ’tis the fill of -your waistcoat you are, and no mistake.” - -“His Highness ought to be flattered,” said Mr. Stafford, who was not. - - * * * * * - -Miss Pamela Pounce was deposited at The White Hart, Weymouth, by the -midday coach, having slept at Dorchester. - -She looked as crisp and modish as one of her own hats, as she tripped -along the parade towards my Lady Kilcroney’s lodgings, followed by a -porter who moved in a perfect grove of bandboxes. - -Miss Pounce had travelled to Weymouth with a selection of hats and -heads for the tempting of her fashionable clientele. Born business -woman as she was, she carried her unerring instinct into every detail, -such as that very halt at Dorchester, which enabled her to impress -at once by her appetising freshness and her air of not having lost a -minute in providing an esteemed customer with the very latest; “piping -hot,” as she herself expressed it. - -She had no hesitation in the choice of her first patroness. My Lady -Kilcroney gave the lead and Madame Mirabel’s partner only spoke the -truth when she averred that she had rather have my Lady’s custom than -that of Queen Charlotte and all the Princesses. - -Softly signalling to the burthened porter to wait in the hall, Miss -Pounce nipped two special bandboxes from his grasp and herself mounted -the stairs behind Kitty’s black boy. Her Ladyship was in her bedroom. -That suited Pamela very well; in fact she had timed herself to find -Kitty in her _négligé_, perfumed from her toilet, restored by her -morning chocolate, just planning the pleasures of the day. Miss Pounce -smiled, as bending her ear she caught the sound of feminine voices and -laughter within. A discreet play of nails upon the panels remaining -unanswered, she gave one authoritative tap and entered. - -Kitty, in a cloud of lace, with lavender ribbons, occupied the centre -of the apartment, throned in a high winged arm-chair. Her elbows were -on the table before her, on which were strewn divers coloured prints -and an immense heap of light-hued patterns of silk and satin. On -either side of her sat her two special cronies: Lady Anne Day and Lady -Flora Dare-Stamer. All three heads were bent together; no conspirators -planning the downfall of the Crown, could have seemed more wrapped -in mysterious colloquy. Pamela had to “hem” before her presence was -noticed. Then the faces were lifted with a start, and Miss Pounce had -no reason to complain of the effect of her unexpected appearance. - -Kitty clapped her hands. - -“What good wind has driven you hither, child, to-day of all days?” - -“And I who was thinking,” cried Nan Day, “that I hadn’t a head to my -curls, fit to appear at Kitty’s party, for my country slut has packed -your rose tulle turban, and the Paris toque, Miss Pounce, I do assure -you, as if she was stuffing a goose!” - -“As for me,” said Lady Flora, “I haven’t paid Madame Mirabel’s account -this goodness knows how long. But there--I think she knows I’m no bad -customer after all”--with her fat laugh. “And I’m sure she’ll let me -have a mode to set off my poor countenance, or I shall be lost indeed, -amid so much youth and beauty!” - -Miss Pounce put down her bandboxes, to give them admirably -differentiated curtsies, and drew in her breath with that sucking sound -which meant the excess of enjoyment. - -My Lady Kilcroney was about to give an entertainment; an entertainment -before which every other effort of hers should pale. It was to be -honoured with the presence of the King and Queen and the Princesses; -that went without saying. But it was to be more distinguished even -than this. His Royal Highness, the Prince of Wales, was expected for -three days at Weymouth, on a kind of reconciliation visit to Their -Majesties--there had been one of those too frequent ruptures between -them--and my Lady’s party was the only one which he had signified his -pleasure to attend. Never in all her triumphant days had Kitty reached -such a triumph. It was no wonder that her eyes sparkled, and her hands -trembled, as she turned over patterns, and discussed minuets. - -Five violins from the Opera were coming, and the famous lady harpist. -Only the select of the select were to be admitted to the sacred -circle. The supper was to beat every feast that Kitty’s chef, with the -assistance of several club friends, had ever before accomplished, and -Kitty’s costume (carmine brocade powdered with silver rosebuds), was to -outshine anything that that leader of fashion had previously donned. - -“I declare I was about to post an express to Madame Mirabel to get you -down, my dear,” said Kitty when the first clatter of conversation had -something died away. - -Pamela pinched her lips. - -“Well, if it isn’t Providence! I’ve got in that bandbox a head!--a -head, I say, my Lady, roses dew-dropped with Strass, and just a twist -of silver net illusion--if it ain’t Providence!” - -Perhaps Miss Lydia Pounce had assisted Providence in this matter. That -admirable abigail had her wits all about her. - -The three charming ladies held their breath while the nimble young -milliner went down on one knee and began to unfasten the cordings of -the larger bandbox. Scarcely had her fingers reached the palpitating -stage of tissue paper, when the door was flung violently open, and -Lord Kilcroney marched into the room. He came in with a great swing of -coat-tails and stamp of high boots, and it was plain to see, by other -tokens--his flaming eye, his dilated nostril, his clenched jaw--that he -was in a towering rage. - -The ladies fell apart, with the movement of scared birds under the dash -of the hawk. Even Kitty cowered in her chair, though only for a second. -Before the gathering wrath exploded, she had reared her pretty head in -defiance, and was ready to meet him with a temper-flash as stormy as -his own. - -He flung on the table an open letter--a fragrant, pink sheet it was, -with coquettish wafer still attached--and pinning it with his finger, -asked in a voice, hoarse and trembling from his efforts to control it: -“Is this a forgery, my Lady, or is it a bad joke?” - -Kitty glanced down at the scrap of paper, marked with her own -delicate caligraphy, in the latest thing in violet inks; then, her -hotly-resentful gaze contradicting the ice-cold mockery of her accents: -“I marvel, my Lord, that you can find a joke in what is to me so -monstrous sad.” - -“I say it’s a bad joke, a blanked, ill-bred, devilish bit of cattiness!” - -“Oh, pray, pray!” tittered my Lady on the edge of hysterical fury. -“Remember you are not in the bosom of your family, Denis. Here are -witnesses----” - -“Witnesses, is it? I’ve nothing to hide, I’d have it called by the town -crier. The letter which a wife was not ashamed to send to her husband -may be sung up and down the parade, for all I care! Listen to this, Nan -Day: you led your husband a pretty dance once upon a time, but split -me, you stopped short of public insult! Listen, Lady Flora. All the -world knows what a treasure Dare-Stamer has in you and how ’tis the -good humour of the world you have with him, and the patience! Here’s a -message for a wife to write to her husband: - - “_My dear Denis, Her Majesty has most graciously condoned the - dreadful Act of Disrespect by which you made an exhibition of - yourself and of another person who shall be nameless, at a moment, - when the Horrid Spectacle could not fail to meet her August Glance, - in so far as not to withdraw her condescending promise to be present - at my Ball to-morrow night. She has, nevertheless, given me to - understand with Her own incomparable Tact and Kindness that should - you find it convenient to be absent on business on that occasion it - would considerably add to the harmony of the evening. I am sure I - need only convey this expression of her Royal pleasure to you, that - you are not so altogether lost to decency and good feeling as not - instantly to take steps to meet it. Pray believe me, my Lord, to - remain your attached and dutiful Wife----_” - -Denis’s voice shook and broke with a sound that approached a snarl, on -the last words. - -“What do you think of that? What do you think of it?” he shouted, -shaking the letter, first under Lady Flora’s, then under Nan Day’s nose. - -Both ladies looked scared. - -“Dear! dear!” said Lady Flora, “I’m sure ’tis vastly disagreeable all -round, but--well, there, my good soul, wouldn’t it help matters if you -was just to do as the Queen asks? La! she’s so prodigious stiff-backed. -And who should know it but me! Didn’t I nearly die of being Lady of -the Bedchamber for three mortal months. Oh, I’m too fat and soft for -Her Majesty, but sure, it’ll all blow over, and you so good-natured -yourself, and so obliging!” - -“I’m sure,” said Nan, stepping up to Kitty, and turning a fierce blue -eye on my Lord, “I don’t know what you mean about leading my Philip a -dance, my Lord Kilcroney. Whatever points of difference there may have -been between us, they’ve been private ones, and my husband, sir, is a -gentleman of high principles and good conduct, and if I were not all a -wife should be to him, I should be, indeed, the basest of women; but -were I----” she suddenly began to shake and tremble upon tears--“were I -wedded to one who outraged my tenderest feelings, offended my dignity -in public, made a mock of the most solemn vows, and--and----” she flung -her arms round Kitty and clasped her, sobbing. - -Her emotion was contagious. Kitty burst into tears on the spot. - -“May you never know what it means, my sweet Nan. May your heart never -be broken!” - -The two clung together, sobbing as for a wager, and Lady Flora, -whisking out a capable handkerchief, sniffed and begged them, with -reddening eyelids, to stop for mercy’s sake. - -“Don’t, Kilcroney! Don’t, Nan! I’m so soft! You’ll have me off too. I -never could bear to see anyone cry.” - -Even Pamela, kneeling beside her bandbox, flung a gaze of deep reproach -upon the sinner. She knew something of the story: her aunt was one who -liked to retail a bit of spicy gossip when it came her way. - -The weight of this feminine condemnation was too much for the unhappy -Denis, but his wrath was unabated. - -“Vastly well, my Lady. Vastly well,” he cried, thrusting the crumpled -note into his pocket. “I’ll off with myself, aye, and I’ll take this -love token with me. I’ll not pollute your party, never fear; but -whatever you hear of me, now, remember, you drove me to it.” - -Denis Kilcroney fulfilled his dark threat by going straight to the -confectioner’s shop, over which Mrs. Lafone had taken modest lodgings. -He found her in company with her brother-in-law, Ned Stafford. That -gentleman was lying, as much at his ease as he could in the only -arm-chair, which was, however, hard and slippery, being covered with -horsehair. His hands were joined by the finger-tips, his eyes were -closed. With a resigned lift of eyebrow he was listening to the little -lady’s shrill and voluble harangue. - -Mistress Molly, in a white muslin morning wrapper tied round her -slim waist by an azure blue ribbon, with silver fair hair, scarcely -powdered, all unbound, save for where a knot of the same blue caught -the curls at the nape of her neck, looked perhaps only the more -attractive because her eyes and cheeks blazed with anger. And it was, -my Lord Kilcroney saw with relief, a dry anger; for his Kitty, playing -the victim while exercising such--yes! dash it, the only word was -spite!--had added exasperation to his sense of injury. - -“Come in, come in, my Lord,” Mistress Molly wheeled upon him with a -laugh, if Denis could only have recognised the fact, more full of spite -than his Lady’s utmost petulance. “Pray have you heard what I’ve been -saying? Oh, you needn’t blink at me like that, Brother Stafford, I’ll -say it all over again. I’ll say that my Lady Kilcroney is the most -jealous cat in the whole of England. She has left me out of her royal -ball, has she? I’m not virtuous enough! What, my Lord, you kissed my -wrist on the parade--and if I say it was my wrist, Tom Stafford? I -ought to know! and Kitty--oh, the virtuous Kitty!--and her old cross -Royal thought to see the kind of shocking spectacle your virtuous -people are fond of thinking they see. My Lady was always jealous of -poor little me! I don’t care who hears me. I say--hold your tongue, -Tom!--’tis a conspiracy, ’tis a scandal. I’ll make Mr. Lafone tell -His Royal Highness all about it. I’ll go to law on it. There can’t be -more scandal about me than there will be for being the only one of the -ladies at Weymouth left out to-morrow night!” - -Mr. Stafford, who had been glinting at Denis between his bored eyelids, -now opened them a fraction wider. - -“For Heaven’s sake, good lad,” said he, “get her a ticket.” - -“Get her one yourself.” - -“My good Kil, your Lady does not even know that I’m in Weymouth.” - -“Why then, you’ve but got to show yourself. You’re not her husband,” -added Kilcroney bitterly. - -“Not at all!” cried Mr. Stafford, with some energy. “It shall never -be said that I have set myself to curry favour with Kitty Kilcroney, -more especially since ’tis my own sister-in-law that she’s treating so -uncivil. Nay, Kil, I’ll keep out of it. I’m only giving you a bit of -advice for your own sake. Get her a ticket. ’Twill save a lot of bother -in the end. And I do assure you,” as Denis laughed hollowly, “’Twill -have an excellent effect on society generally. There has been far too -much fuss about an incident which should have been--ahem!--passed over!” - -Lord Kilcroney dropped upon the horsehair sofa, which creaked dismally. - -“And pray,” said he, in a tone of sarcasm, “when you had dealings with -my Lady yourself--and you had a few, one way and another--did you find -her so easy to manage?” - -Now Mr. Stafford had somewhere hidden away an old grudge against -Lady Kilcroney, who had not only jilted him, but had scored off him -notably on more than one occasion. Mr. Stafford was far from approving -of Molly, whom, indeed, it may be said, he heartily disliked, but -to find a close relative pilloried on your arrival at a fashionable -watering-place was a set down to a beau’s pride. He was inclined to -champion her. Under his languid airs he was very wroth with my Lady -Kilcroney; she was making an indelicate fuss; she had lost her usual -tactful grasp of the situation through ridiculous jealousy. After all, -as Kilcroney himself represented, there couldn’t have been much harm -in a kiss bestowed on the open parade in a high wind; between wrist or -cheek like enough there was a confusion by one or other of the parties. -But Kilcroney’s next remark made him jump to his feet. - -“As for a ticket for the show, me lad, I’m not to have one, either.” - -“Kil!” - -“My Lord!” - -Molly broke into shriller laughter, and beat her palms together. - -“And His Royal Highness coming and all!” - -“Aye, and by the same token I saw that august personage driving his -curricle along the sea road on my way here,” said Mr. Stafford, -relapsing into his usual rather insolent serenity. Your fine gentleman -will not let himself be betrayed into emotion if he can help it. - -“And I was less flattered than ever at your taking me for him -yesterday, Kil.” - -His sister-in-law looked at him curiously. “But my Lord Kilcroney is -right!” she cried maliciously. “Since you’ve grown so prodigious fat, -brother-in-law.” - -Then, having planted the pin-prick which she never allowed to escape -her, she returned to the real subject of interest. - -“Not to be present at your own wife’s entertainment? Oh come, my -Lord, this is an Irish way of evading the question. You must think us -monstrous simple to credit----” - -It was a morning of interruptions, for here Miss Pounce and the -bandboxes marched unexpectedly in upon them. She was breathing quickly -and speaking with volubility. - -My Lady Verney’s own woman had informed her of Mrs. Lafone’s address -in the town, and she had ventured to present herself with the very -latest, positively the very latest, to show to her most esteemed -customers. Miss Pounce was quite sure that Mistress Lafone and Mistress -Stafford--“Is your lady here, sir?” she curtsied to the Beau, who was -ogling her jocosely. “Not till next week? Oh, dear, what a pity! I’d -have been honoured, sir, to supply a hat or a head for the beautiful -Mrs. Stafford. But as I was saying, I am quite sure that you, Madam, -and your sister, being such kind patrons of the establishment, Madame -Mirabel would have taken it very bad of me, very bad of me indeed, had -I failed to seek you out.” - -Denis Kilcroney was sitting erect upon the sofa, with his arms folded, -and a stern glance upon the glib Pamela. This young person avoided -meeting the glance in question. She felt that her swift appearance at -Mrs. Lafone’s lodgings on the heels of my Lord’s stormy exit was, for -all her clever patter, a little too obvious a coincidence. - -“I’ve a head here,” went on Miss Pounce, beginning to set down her -bandboxes, and making the most theatrical effects with the undoing of -strings and rustling of tissue paper. “Well, _really_, the Duchess -of Hampshire wanted, right or wrong, to have it for her ball last -week when she entertained the Prince, as you may have seen by the -news-sheet, Madam. But I says to her, ‘No, your Grace,’ I says, ‘’tis -too elfin for your Grace. Your Grace wants, so to speak, the Goddess -effect.’ And as I says it, if you’ll believe me, I thought of you, -ma’am.” - -Mrs. Lafone did not believe her, but she stood, hesitating a little, -over the bandboxes, torn between a pettish desire to dismiss with -obloquy the wretch who had come to turn the dagger in the wound, -and the budding hope that Mr. Stafford, who had plenty of money, -might be moved to do the generous for once, and present his injured -sister-in-law with a token of his esteem. - -Miss Pounce drew out what was indeed a fairy-like wreath of pale blue -convolvulus, and Molly exclaimed in rapture. In a wink Miss Pounce had -placed it on the fair, dishevelled head. - -“Oh, Madam, if ever there was a perfect vision! Look, Mr. Stafford, -Sir! Look, my Lord, if I may make so bold; isn’t Mrs. Lafone fitted, so -to speak, like a--like a----” She faltered on the simile, for neither -gentlemen showed any disposition to rise to the occasion. - -My Lord cast another glance upon the milliner, which said as plain -as words: “Don’t think you can take me in, my good girl,” and then, -with a formal bow to the syren and a wave of the hand to Stafford, he -sauntered out of the room. - -Mr. Stafford flung a glance of mocking pity after him, whistling a -ballad tune under his breath; then he put his hand into his pocket, -but it was only to produce a snuffbox, from which he proceeded to -inhale. - -Molly pettishly tore the wreath from her curls, declaring in her most -acrid accents: - -“Really, Miss Pounce, this is a great liberty. I can order my hats -for myself when I require them, and then I usually write to Madame -Eglantine, in Paris. And anyhow, I am not going into society by -doctor’s orders. I am here for my health. Pray, Mr. Stafford, will you -pull the bell rope, that Madame Mirabel’s assistant may be shown to the -door.” - -Miss Pounce started to re-pack the wreath, with further extraordinary -manipulations of tissue paper. She was all bland apology. She craved a -hundred pardons. She had made so sure that Mrs. Lafone would be going -to my Lady Kilcroney’s ball at the Assembly Rooms to-morrow night. She -hoped and trusted it would be as great a success as the Duchess of -Hampshire’s last week, and that His Royal Highness would be equally -delighted with his entertainment. “Though of course----” here the -milliner genteelly tittered, “it was not likely he would be equally -demonstrative to his hostess. Was it possible Madame had not heard how -His Royal Highness, saying ‘It is a Sovereign’s privilege to salute -another Sovereign, and you are Queen of Beauty,’ had kissed her Grace -of Hampshire on the cheek after the minuet--Oh, indeed, she had danced -like an angel, and looked exceedingly well--before the whole assembly?” - -“Dear me!” said Mr. Stafford, with humorous meaning. - -“And I’m sure, I hope,” cried acrid Molly, “that His Royal Highness -may be as prodigal of caress to my Lady Kilcroney. Oh!” she cried, -clasping her hands, “if that is the kind of fit that’s on him, and he -was to kiss my sweetest Kitty before his Royal Mamma and the lovely -Princesses, what a monstrous joke it would be.” - -Here Mr. Stafford stepped forward and opened the door. - -“Allow me, my dear,” said he, and with what Pamela thought an -insufferable free-and-easiness, lifted her bandboxes one after the -other into the passage, and literally bowed her out. - -She stood, snapping her fingers and biting her nails, to linger and -listen as long as she dared. Up to this she had after all but poor -gleanings to bring back to her Aunt Lydia for the retailing into her -patroness’s ear, save, indeed, the sad verification of my Lord’s -presence in the Minx’s lodgings. But she saw that she was suspected -by one, if not both, of the gentlemen, and however necessary it is -for a young milliner to make quite certain that the cords of her -boxes are properly tied, it is not an operation that can be prolonged -indefinitely. Some phrases she did catch. - -“The joke of it is that the Prince,” Mr. Stafford was observing. - -The rest of the remark was lost; it was followed by a crow from Molly -Lafone. - -“Not to be there, after all? Serve her right!” Then in another tone. -“Oh, I have the drollest inspiration!” - -“Hush!” - -Pounce pricked her ear to its utmost alertness. - -“I have the drollest inspiration,” said Mrs. Lafone. “Since you say, -Tom, you’re poz that His Royal Highness don’t mean to attend my Lady’s -ball--and I say it serves her right--why should you not go in his -stead?” - -“Go in his stead?” Mr. Stafford blankly repeated then. “You’re crazy, -Molly!” - -“And not at all! Oh, it can be managed, I do assure you! Oh, it would -be too droll, too delightful! And it would be better than droll, for -’twould be a certain way to heal the breach, the sad, sad breach -between our poor Kil and that same jealous Kitty. Pray, Brother-in-law, -before you interrupt, let me speak one word! Kitty’s Royals, King, -Queen and Princesses, will but pass through the Assembly Rooms. -’Tis the way of Royalty. ’Tis all anyone would expect of them, more -especially as His Majesty is so out of health. What is to prevent -the Prince changing his mind, and popping in for late supper? By the -Prince, I mean you, Tom. Come now, you know ’tis a thing he might -do very well. People would only say he could not bear the tedium of -dancing at his Royal parents’ heels. Come now, Mr. Stafford, sir. I see -it in your eye. You know ’tis a trick could be played on my Lady with -perfect success? Oh, you need not present yourself on the scene till -every one should have departed, save the select little circle, those -sweet, dear, charming ladies and their stupid husbands, who won’t have -anything to say to poor little me! And then, oh, Mr. Stafford, you must -be monstrous charmed, and monstrous gallant, and--well, monstrous tipsy -if you like, and you will but the closer ape our dear future Sovereign! -And then (oh, how you gape!) don’t you see? You must kiss my Lady, and -if she don’t have to forgive my Lord afterwards----” - -“Foh!” said Mr. Stafford. “’Tis the rankest nonsense. And I’m not so -prodigious like the Prince as all that.” - -“Oh, but you are, Mr. Stafford! Didn’t my Lord Kilcroney take you for -him but yesterday? With one of those new white chokers, and a frill -to the shirt, and a bit of blue ribbon across it and a new wig with a -top-knot to it, and a fine brocade waistcoat on your fine figure--you -were always so clever at the acting, Brother-in-law!--I’d defy even -your Prue to find you out!” - -Mr. Stafford was apparently unconvinced, for Molly Lafone’s accents -changed from wheedling to taunting. - -“And indeed, Tom, I thought you’d more spirit. Here I give you such a -chance as never was of paying my Lady out for the trick she played on -you. Why, she made you the laughing-stock of Bath. Oh, I have heard -such droll tales--how, rather than marry you, she made my Lord--Denis -O’Hara, as he was then--dress up as a woman and pretend to be your -previous wife at the altar steps. Are you so mean-spirited as to -forget? And ’tisn’t as if it wouldn’t be the best turn in the world for -my Lord, and him so good-natured, and treated so shameful! I thought -gentlemen stood by each other. For a wife to insult her husband so!” - -“It mightn’t put me in such very good odour with His Royal Highness,” -said Mr. Stafford, and Pamela knew by his tone that he was faltering. - -“As if anyone was likely to tell him. However, if you’re afraid, -Brother-in-law----” - -“You’re a little devil,” said Mr. Stafford. - -And Pamela picked up her boxes and flew. She had heard enough, and she -knew that Mistress Lafone had carried her point. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -IN WHICH KITTY IS MORE INCOMPARABLE THAN EVER - - -“Good God!” said Nan Day, under her breath. “If that is not the Lafone -piece! My dearest Kitty, what insolence!” - -“I invited her,” said my Lady Kilcroney, quietly. - -“Kitty!” - -“By special messenger to-day.” - -“Kitty!!!” - -“I particularly wished for the presence of Mrs. Lafone here to-night.” - -The syren was now approaching, crowned with the very wreath she had -cast back at Pamela Pounce, writhing like a lissome snake, in the -billows and laces of her changing sea-green ball gown. Nan watched -Kitty’s urbanity, and the minx’s unconcealed impertinence with -ever-growing amazement. - -“Am I too late to see the dear, dear Royals?” - -“Unfortunately their Majesties stayed but a short time. The King was -feeling unwell.” - -“Oh, my dearest Lady Kilcroney, what a disappointment for you!” - -Kitty had a tilting smile. - -“Less to me than to other people, perhaps, my dear Lafone, since I have -the privilege of being so constantly in Their Majesties’ company.” - -“True, true. It must be a sad fatigue for you. Her Majesty has no mercy -on her ladies’ legs, I always heard.” The minx’s eyes were wandering. -“But His Royal Highness has remained, I trust? ’Twas the talk of the -place how he was expected.” - -“His Royal Highness has left Weymouth, I understand.” - -Kitty was really too unconcerned. It could take in nobody, Lady Anne -Day thought. She bit into a rose of her bouquet, and wished she could -beat Lafone about the head with it. - -“Oh, my dearest Lady Kilcroney, who could have told you such a tale? -His Royal Highness is even now sitting at the window of the County -Club, eating lobster by the light of a silver candelabra. I saw him as -my chair was carried by. Surely he will present himself at supper time? -The Prince is always so courteous, so considerate.” - -“Pray, Mrs. Lafone, the quadrille is beginning. Have you a partner? Or -shall I provide you with a gentleman?” - - -Molly rolled her glistening green eyes with well-feigned anxiety from -side to side. - -“Well, there’s an old promise to my Lord Kilcroney. He made me swear to -give him the first dance at the next assembly, wherever we might happen -to meet. Ah--is he not yonder? Nay, ’tis quite another countenance. But -he will be at your Ladyship’s side in a moment, I make no doubt.” - -“My Lord has left Weymouth.” - -“Oh, my dearest Lady Kilcroney, what a sad, strange contretemps!” - -Even as she spoke that green eye became fixed. One of Kitty’s -magnificent footmen was approaching, bearing a letter on a salver. My -Lady read it, glanced at Mrs. Lafone, and then turned to Lady Ann: “The -Prince is coming, after all, Nan. How strange--” she turned back to -Molly--“that you should this moment have suggested the possibility.” - -Mistress Lafone had recognised in a single flash the great folded sheet -that she had herself prepared and sealed with so much amusement, to -the accompaniment of the protests of the rather doubtful, yet not -altogether unwilling Beau. The seal had been Molly’s triumph. What will -not a determined woman accomplish? She had actually got possession of -the kind of wafer habitually used by the Prince. Like mistress, like -maid, it is said: Mistress Molly’s own maid was as much of a minx as -her mistress. She had started flirtations with every likely scoundrel -about Weymouth before she had been a fortnight in the place. One of the -drawers at the Crown Inn had thought it a small price to pay for the -smiles of Jenny Jinks to give her, as a keepsake, a few wafers out of -the Prince’s own ivory box, off the writing-table in the room occupied -by His Royal Highness. - -“The Prince coming after all!” cried Nan Day joyfully. She was -genuinely fond of Kitty, but even if she had not been so, to see Lafone -discomfited would have been delightful to her. - -This latter was seized with a fit of tittering, and was fain to retire, -fanning herself violently and simulating a threat of the vapours. - -Lady Ann looked after her contemptuously. - -“She can hardly conceal her spite,” quoth she. “Ah, Kitty, I believe -you knew the Prince was coming all the while, and that was why you -invited that little rascal!” - -Kitty had upon this, as even the obtuse Nan could not but notice, a -singular smile. - -Certainly it would have been a thousand pities had my Lady Kilcroney’s -entertainment fallen flat, for never had even her bright wits and long -purse made more charming and sumptuous preparations. - -The Assembly Rooms had been transmogrified into a fairy bower, with -hangings of white silk, and garlands of roses. The band was surpassing -itself: the supper, no doubt, would be unsurpassable. There was a -special supper-room prepared off the great ball-room, where, it -was hinted, such delicacies would be served as would tickle the -jaded palate of the Prince. If he had not come ’twould have been a -catastrophe. Yes, positively a catastrophe for my Lady Kilcroney. - -The moment approached for the appearance of the Royal guest. The most -pompous of the company had taken its departure closely upon the heels -of Royalty, and now there was left none but that select circle to which -Mistress Lafone had referred with so much acrimony, and a sprinkling of -young naval officers, quite negligible beings. - -Nevertheless, one of these was now to suit Mistress Molly’s purpose -very well. Most unaccountably, she, who was generally surrounded by the -male sex, found herself neglected to-night by the gentlemen of Kitty’s -coterie. Perhaps her mermaid charms seemed more dangerous than alluring -after the trap into which my Lord Kilcroney had fallen. Anyway, she -was glad to hang upon the arm of a blushing youth in blue, and the -celebrated band striking up “God save the Prince of Wales” with a great -stroke of bows, planted herself with her cavalier near the entrance to -watch, her heart beating high with ecstasy and fear--for the appearance -of brother-in-law Tom as the Prince of Wales. - -A stout gentleman, in the very pink of the fashion, with all his double -chins majestically sunk in swathes of fine cambric, with ruffles, blue -ribbon and a star, with calves that must have made Kitty’s footmen -green with envy, and shoulders that would have been remarkable in a -guardsman, advanced, stepping with the inimitable carriage of the great. - -Again an hysterical burst of laughter rose in Molly’s throat. The next -moment she pinched the arm of the young naval gentleman so fiercely -that he turned in alarm. - -“What is the matter?” - -“I am swooning!” said Molly with a gasp, and swoon she did, and no -mistake about it! - -However cunningly Mr. Stafford might make himself up, however paint and -pad and be-wig himself, strut and look majestic, he could not have -given to his handsome brown eyes the dull protruding stare, nor to his -features that thickness which a plethoric habit was inducing in the -heir to the throne; and Mr. Stafford would not have been escorted by -the gentlemen of the Prince’s own suite; and, most certain of all, he -would not have had my Lord Kilcroney by his side. - -The dreadful discovery flashed upon the unfortunate Molly with the -still more appalling realisation that the next few minutes must -inevitably see the bogus Prince present himself on the heels of the -genuine one; and that all would be discovered, to the everlasting -undoing of those concerned. - -“Oh, if I have but the time to warn him!” she thought; when Nemesis -overtook her in the shape of that real swoon. - - * * * * * - -“You go on slapping her hands, auntie, while I burn another feather. -Dear, to be sure, don’t she look bad! Downright silly, I call it, for -ladies to be lacing themselves so tight, and she as thin as a fish -to begin with! I declare, when I cut those green laces, they regular -popped.” - -As through layers of swirling mist which both blinded and deafened her, -Mrs. Lafone vaguely caught these words. Another voice penetrated more -sharply to her growing consciousness. - -“And if you was to pull yourself in a bit, Pamela, you’d look a deal -more genteel. A well-looking girl like you, with all your advantages -and gowned, I will say that for you, with uncommon taste, to go about -with such a milkmaid figure! I’d drink a tablespoonful of white vinegar -night and morning, if I was you. Drat! How green she do keep! Slap a -bit harder, child. I’m all of a dither to get into that little balcony -that overlooks the supper-room, and see my Lady and His Highness and -all.” - -“A balcony, is there?” Pamela’s pleasant accents questioned. - -“Yes, my dear, and you can come along with me, once we get the life -back into Madam. A minstrels’ gallery they call it, overlooking the -hall. Oh, I had a peep just now when I ran for the hartshorn. ’Tis the -elegantest spectacle you ever saw; to look down on the supper table was -like fairyland. Ain’t she sighed? She was always an aggravating piece,” -said the elder Miss Pounce with some asperity. - -Molly lay with closed eyes and fully recovered wits. She was debating -whether to prolong the fit and let herself be carried back seemingly -unconscious to her lodgings, would not be the best way out of an -unpleasant dilemma. It would annoy these two impertinent females: that -was an added advantage. - -“Was they already at table when you looked in on them, auntie?” asked -Madame Mirabel’s partner, between two brisk smacks of Mrs. Lafone’s -palm. - -“They was, my dear. Well, since there don’t seem to be a mite of use -trying to get her to swallow anything, I’ll have that drop of ratafia -myself. It sort of turns me to see people that colour--they was all -a-sitting round the supper table, His Highness beside my Lady, and -my Lord with Lady Flo, and just the rest of my Lady’s intimates. The -supper table looking beautiful with the best gold plate. And them -red, red roses my Lady paid such a sum for. And the Prince’s top-knot -shining lovely, and your wreath--’twas the naturallest thing; you could -have sworn the dew had just fallen on it! But my Lady Anne’s blue -turban’s a trifle heavy for my taste, Pam. She was a-sitting rather -glum, I thought, but perhaps that was because she didn’t have her -gentleman.” - -“Her gentleman?” - -“My Lady was counting on Mr. Stafford----” - -There was a double cry. - -“Mr. Stafford!” screamed Pamela and Mrs. Lafone together. Pamela -dropped the hand she was slapping with such good will, and Mrs. Lafone -sat bolt upright. - -“Did you say my Lady was expecting Mr. Stafford?” asked Pamela. She -was in such amazement she could not give a thought to the patient’s -miraculous recovery. - -“Well, and upon my word, and why should not my Lady invite Mr. -Stafford? What’s took you? And as for you, ma’am, if ever I see a lady -come out of a swound as you have sudden-like this minute----” - -But the invalid interrupted, rising to her feet, clasping her -dishevelled head with both hands, and staring from one to the other, as -if she or they were mad. - -“When was Mr. Stafford invited? What do you know about his having been -expected? Heavens, woman, answer me! ’Tis a matter of life and death -for me.” - -“Mercy on us! Shall you be giving us the screaming vapours next, ma’am? -I happen to know--if you must have it--that my Lady only heard of his -presence in Weymouth at seven of the clock this evening, and nothing -would serve her but he must be sent to that instant minute.” - -“Take me to the balcony you spoke of,” said Mrs. Lafone, in an extinct -voice. - -Her clothes were hanging off her back, as Lydia shockedly pointed out; -and her hair was a sight for the crows; and my Lady had only given -leave for her own woman (though she wouldn’t mind Pam); Lydia felt sure -she wouldn’t, so to speak, care about people as isn’t asked to the -supper party, spying on His Highness in that common kind of way! - -But Mrs. Lafone produced a gold piece with so much promptitude that her -bodice was pinned together, her mantle brought, and her still tottering -steps guided to the upper passage and to the gallery in a remarkably -short space of time. The balcony was filled with palms and flowering -plants. If anyone had thought of looking up, and chanced to see the -narrow, white face and fiery eyes peering down at them, they might have -thought some witch had flown in on her broomstick to cast a baleful -spell upon the cheerful company. - -The two Miss Pounces quite forgot their uncomfortable companion in -the thrilling interest of the scene. Lively were the whispers they -exchanged across the stem of a stout tree fern. - -“La, aunt, if that isn’t Mr. Stafford down there, as cool as a -cucumber! Well, to be sure; ain’t the world a strange place?” - -“Cool he always was, as nobody knows better than me. The way he on and -off with that poor piece, Madame Eglantine, when she kept a milliner’s -shop at Bath, and proposing to my Lady all the while, and she the rich -widow Bellairs. Well--cucumbers was not in it.” - -Pamela Pounce was craning eagerly forward. Certainly to see Mr. -Stafford _in propria persona_ sitting genially in the company of the -Prince, the guest of my Lady Kilcroney, after conspiring to humiliate -and confound her, was the last development she had expected of the -night’s drama. - -That my Lord Kilcroney should be playing host to the wife who had with -contumely dismissed him was another matter, Miss Pamela Pounce was -by no means so amazed to see him sitting at the supper table as Mrs. -Lafone had been to see him walk in. - -“The little cat,” thought Pam, “’twas a real fit, sure enough, and -serve her right. She ain’t succeeded this time--though she came near -enough to it--in separating the elegantest couple in all society. What -a good thing it is, Pam my girl,” (she was fond of apostrophising -herself thus) “that you ain’t too squeamish to do a bit of spying in -season and listen outside doors.” - -“His Royal Highness is taking a glass of wine with Mr. Stafford,” -whispered Lydia sibilantly, in a prodigious state of excitement. - -Pamela felt an abrupt movement beside her, and glancing round, beheld -Mrs. Lafone darting from the gallery like a snake disturbed. The girl -drew a long breath. The air was easier to her lungs now that this -miasma of malice was removed from it. - -His Royal Highness was most agreeably and flatteringly inebriated at -the end of Kitty’s supper party. He declared thickly that it had been -a most delightful evening. If he did not salute her cheek with his -royal lips as he had saluted the Duchess of Hampshire, he mumbled her -hand with repeated kisses. But Kitty’s triumph was not yet complete. -Its culminating point was only reached when she found herself with my -Lord back in the withdrawing-room of her lodgings, accompanied on her -express invitation, by Mr. Stafford. - -She flung off her wraps and, standing in the middle of the room, with -rather a tearful smile, held out a hand to each. - -“Denis, my love--Stafford, my old friend--we have, each of us, I dare -say, things against each other to forgive and forget, but for my part -’tis all done with already.” - -“Ah, my Lady Kilcroney. Ah, Kitty!” cried the Beau, moved out of -his wont, and pressing the little hand against his breast, before -lifting it to his lips, “When I received your note warning me of the -ass I would be making of myself in trying to get the better of you, -I thought--dash me, I thought--there’s not a woman in the world to -compare to her for generosity and wit! And how, in the name of God, did -you know, Kitty?” he cried, with a change of tone. “’Pon my soul, never -tell me that piece, Molly, betrayed me for an invitation?” - -“By no means, sir, the invitation was sent to her--well! as a little -punishment. She came all agog to see my discomfiture, and Lydia, my -woman, tells me she was so overset at the sight of His Highness that -she swooned.” - -My Lord by this time had an arm about his wife’s waist. - -“’Twas I told me wife,” said he in his richest brogue, “of your -dastardly plot, me fine fellow.” - -“You?” - -“Ay, meself and no other.” - -“But this is mystery upon mystery,” said Mr. Stafford, and he was -really mystified. - -“A little bird told me,” said Kilcroney, wagging his head. - -Kitty interrupted, laughing. - -“Aye, and by the way, my Lord, ring the bell and send Pompey for that -very little bird. She must not go unrewarded.” - -“She?” repeated Mr. Stafford. His eyebrows went up. He was perhaps not -altogether amazed to see Pamela Pounce walk into the room. - -“Come here, child,” said my Lady, and picked from her bodice a pretty, -sparkling brooch. “Wear this for my sake in remembrance of to-night. -As for me,” her light voice deepened, “I shall never forget your good -sense and courage. She guessed you were planning some mischief with -your charming sister-in-law, Mr. Stafford, sir, and having to tie her -bandboxes outside the door, she caught some whispers of your little -game.” - -“Oho!” said Mr. Stafford. - -“I listened,” cried Pamela with flaming cheeks, “and I went straight to -my Lord here and my Lord----” - -Here my Lord himself took up the tale, his lazy, pleasant voice -creaming forth in contrast to the excited tones of the young milliner. - -“And faith, bad husband as I am--troth, sure it’s the worst in the -world--there was but one thing for me to do, and that was to protect -me wife. So I went to His Royal Highness and did a little bit of -coaxing--not that he needed much. God bless him, isn’t he always ready -to condescend to be entertained? And I got him to promise easy enough -to come in to supper after his royal parents had gone to bed. And then -I wrote a line to my Lady and asked her permission to bring the Prince, -and by the same token I told her about your fine scheme of counterfeit. -Sure, I knew my Lady could be trusted to deal with that.” - -“Denis,” said Kitty. “There was an infamous note I sent you on pink -paper. Have you got it about you?” - -He gave her a grim look, inserted two fingers into his waistcoat -pocket, and drew it forth. - -“Give it back to me, my dear love.” - -“Why, I was thinking ’twouldn’t be a bad token for me to keep about -me, lest I should be meeting some sorrowful young creature that wanted -comforting on a parade----” - -“Oh, my Lord, don’t mock me.” - -She twitched it from his hand and began to tear it into a hundred -shreds. Then, between laughing and crying, she gathered in her turn a -little note from her bosom. - -“’Tis you that are generous, ’tis you that are forgiving, my Lord. How -could I keep up petty malice, Mr. Stafford when my Denis had treated -me so gallant? This letter,” cried Kitty, kissing it, “shall be my -treasure till I die.” - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -IN WHICH THE MAD BRAT TAKES THE BIT BETWEEN HER TEETH, BUT MISS PAMELA -POUNCE KEEPS HOLD OF THE REINS - - -The first stage between Weymouth and London brought Miss Pamela Pounce -to Blandford where she intended to pass the night. She had spent an -agreeable and lucrative week at Weymouth, whither the presence of -Royalty had brought a host of fashionables, and where it had been easy -for her to dispose of all the modish hats and heads, caps and toques -which she had selected to tempt holiday appetites. - -With a light conscience and heavy pockets, therefore, Pamela was -setting off for London in finest spirits. She had brought more than her -usual zest to this journey who always enjoyed travelling to the full; -the movement, the change of scene, the bustle at arrival and departure, -the choice of the night’s lodging, the chance adventure, the shifting -company, all stimulated, interested, delighted her. She could take care -of herself, and had no fear, either of the rare highwayman, or of the -intrusive gallant. - -The “Rover” deposited its burden with a fine flourish of horn and whip -and clatter of hoofs, tick on time, in the cobbled courtyard of the -Crown Inn at Blandford. - -Six of the clock had just been huskily beaten out behind the great -white dial that surmounted the celebrated stables. The jolly coachman -turned half round in his seat, and winked at the gentleman in the -many-caped roquelaure who had entertained him with such racy gossip -for five hours that day, and who had not failed moreover, to season -their conversation with a brimmer at every halting place. - -“What do you think o’ that for punctuality, my Lord?” - -Now “my Lord” was a mere fluke--shot at quality, but for once it had -hit the bull’s eye. - -The traveller, descending with care from the coach (for the last -tankard had been tightly laced and required some carrying) was nearly -run into by a brisk young lady in a grey riding coat, and black satin -hat, who exclaimed genteelly: “To be sure, sir, I crave your pardon!” -And then cried: “My Lord Kilcroney, is it indeed you!” - -“Why, ’tis never Miss Pounce!” exclaimed my Lord, surveying her, as -if the last thing wanting to his joviality had now been granted him -by Fate. And, indeed, not only was Pamela Pounce vastly pleasing to -look upon--she had something of the firmness, the clear red-and-white -and the general appetising appearance of a white-heart cherry--but she -was vastly agreeable company too, as he had found out on more than one -occasion. Added to which, she had recently done him a very good turn -with his lady, as sometimes comes in the way of milliners and such -like who collect back-door gossip, and exercise back-door influence. -Withal, which certainly spoilt nothing, she was a young person of -merit; virtuous, responsible, and discreet. My Lord knew that she would -take at their proper value any little compliment or other expression of -esteem, such as the squeeze of a trim waist, an absent-minded clasp of -taper fingers, even a snatched kiss. He might get a box on the ear; he -would never be treated either to outraged sensibility, or--still more -inconvenient contingency--an undesired responsiveness. - -He held Miss Pounce’s hand, and smiled down into her bright face with -something approaching enthusiasm. - -“Split me, my dear, but this is a piece of good luck. And I who thought -I’d be all at my lonesome over----” he stopped, and sniffed. “What is -it?--the beef-steak pudding, and the roast capons to-night. I invite -you to supper with me, Pamela. I sent my rascal ahead to bespeak the -little oak parlour on the garden, and----” - -“Thanking you kindly, my Lord,” said Miss Pounce, disengaging her hand, -and speaking with great firmness, “I dine with no gentleman in the back -parlour.” - -His merry face fell. - -“How now, so prudish?” - -“Nay, my Lord, merely prudent. ’Tis as much as my reputation is worth. -The ladies wouldn’t like it. No, nor the landladies. The common room is -best for a common working girl like me.” - -“My dear,” said Lord Kilcroney, “’tis an uncommon girl you are. You’re -in the right of it a thousand times. Faith, my Lady would be ready to -tear the wig from my head if she heard of it!” - -“And she’d tear my hats from hers, and that would be vastly the greater -calamity of the two, forgive me for saying so, my Lord.” - -“See here,” said he, “I’ll face the bagmen for the pleasure of your -conversation, for, odd’s my life, you’ve a sparkle about you that’s as -good as champagne after the dreary road! I’ll tell them to lay your -place beside mine in the coffee-room, and you’ll season my supper to me -with that spicy tongue of yours.” - -Pamela said she was a poor girl, and she hoped she knew her place, that -my Lord was vastly condescending, and that she’d have to take what seat -was given her; which remarks, my Lord, rightly understanding to be an -oblique acceptance, greeted with laughter and applause, and went gaily -towards the inn after her, admiring her generous, well-knit shape, and -taking off his hat with a mock flourish as she modestly stood back to -let him enter first. - -The summer evening was warm, and the odours of viands potent in the -coffee-room. The tables were crowded; there was an immense buzz of -voices, and clatter of knives and forks, and a running to and fro of -aproned drawers, and sturdy bare-armed wenches. - -Pamela stood at the door, and looked in discontentedly. She was as -little squeamish as any healthy young woman of her class; she left -“vapours” and “qualms” to her betters. But the long day had tired her, -and there was my Lord, with his wig askew, and a couple of bottles -before him, and an air of having already done some justice to them. It -was all very well to have chosen the propriety of the public room, but -it might have its drawbacks. A poor girl never knew what spiteful eyes -might be watching. It would do her no good if some loose tongue were to -start a bit of scandal about her: “Miss Pamela Pounce behaving shameful -with my Lord Kilcroney, as brazen as you like, before everybody.” It -would always be, of course, the poor girl who behaved shameful, never -the half-tipsy nobleman. Such is the way of the world. - -“And as like as not,” went on Pamela to herself--she had a vivid -and swift imagination--“the next thing will be: ‘They left Weymouth -together. ’Twas a regular elopement.’ No, thank you, Pamela, my girl. -It ain’t good enough for us to sit next to my Lord in his cups, and eat -beef-steak pudding--a dish I never was partial to--on a hot night--and -lose my character to boot.” - -She whisked round and out through the luggage-piled hall into the yard, -where, by the gate which gave upon the river meadow, she had marked a -bench erected round an old tree stump. - -“I’ll sit here,” resolved Miss Pounce, suiting the action to the -thought. “And, by and by, when those creatures have done gorging -within, I’ll have a little supper by my own. Lord, how vastly more -pleasant it is out here!” - -She drew a long breath, inhaling the air, sweet with the near fragrance -of honeysuckle, and distant scents of ripe corn. She clasped her hands -on her knees--those busy, clever hands which so seldom rested--and -gazed dreamily out upon the scene. It made a pleasant picture; the -red-tiled roof of the stables was beginning to glow in the warm evening -light; the irregular outline of the old inn, already in shadow, was -cut darkly against the limpid blue of the sky; white and grey pigeons -flitted lazily hither and thither. From within the open stable doors -came peaceful sounds of munching jaws, rattling chains, and now and -again a stamping hoof. A fat tortoiseshell cat sat licking herself on -a window sill. There was not a human creature in sight for the moment, -and Miss Pounce felt quite poetic. - -But she was not destined to be indulged long in her rare mood for -solitude. There came a clatter of hoofs, a hum of wheels along the -dusty road. A high curricle swung into the yard, at the raking trot -of a tall chestnut driven by a reckless hand. It was drawn up with a -splash of protesting hoofs; and Pamela, suddenly pricked to interest, -beheld, springing unaided from the high perch, the young lady whose -erratic conduct had earned for her the sobriquet of “the Mad Brat,” -Lady Selina, who had scandalised society, outraged her Royal patrons, -alienated her friends, and positively stupefied her family a bare -three months ago by eloping, from the very back of the Princess’s -chair at the Opera, with a penniless insignificant officer of Marines -of the name of Simpson. Lady Selina Simpson’s further career, though -necessarily passed in comparative obscurity, had done little to -lessen the aptness of the sobriquet. Much the contrary, indeed, -and--Lieutenant Simpson being stationed at Weymouth--Lady Selina had -had an unexpected opportunity for a display of eccentricity, which made -both her elder sisters agree for once that something must be done to -put a stop to Selina’s goings on--“under the very nose of the Royals, -my dear; she does it on purpose to discredit us,”--even if something -entailed the purchase for Lieutenant Simpson of some post pleasantly -remote in the Indies. - -Here, then, was the Mad Brat, as naughty and modish as you please -(Miss Pamela’s professional eye was quick to notice); wrapped to the -ears in a military looking cloak of elegant blue, and hatted with as -smart a little beaver, also of military cock, as she, Pamela, had ever -seen--and that was saying a great deal. - -My young Lady Selina’s curls were scarcely powdered, and shone very -golden under the evening light, set in flying bunches each side of her -narrow, pretty, pale, impertinent face. There was something in the -expression of her countenance, attractive for all its wilfulness, that -made Pamela’s quick wits jump to the horrid conclusion--before even she -had clapped eyes on the driver of the curricle. - -“Lord! if ever I see the look of one bent on a desperate course, I -see it this minute!” thought the milliner, turning the glance on Lady -Selina’s companion. - -And there it was for you. That black-avised gentleman, with the bushy -black eyebrows, and the small, restless black eyes beneath, with the -blue chin and full, insolent mouth--that was never young Simpson! “Some -elderly rip, out of the poor lad’s regiment!” diagnosed Pamela rapidly, -seeing the gold-lace glint. “And that is why my young Madam is so -monstrous military herself. If ever I see an elopement----!” - -And indeed, the two had a flushed and conscious air; defiant, -suspicious. - -“However you may try to brazen it out, your heart’s as heavy as lead, -you poor silly thing,” was the next conclusion of the watcher. “As for -you, you wicked wretch, you are all ardours and whispers, all swollen -with triumph, yet you aren’t a bit sure of her. There, now, I knew -it--she won’t let you lead her in, with your arm about her waist; not -even let you take her hand. She’s no notion to have you blazon her your -conquest, for all the Inn company to see. Mercy on us, there’s a toss -of the head! Aye, and here’s a look for you, my fine gentleman! No--I -wouldn’t make too sure of her yet, if I were you!” - -The sound of hoofs and wheels, and of the clanging bell had brought -landlord and landlady to the doorway. Pamela emerged slowly from her -leafy retreat. She had a mind to keep the Mad Brat under observation as -long as she could. - -’Twas a mere child! Pamela knew that she could scarce have reached her -twentieth year; and Pamela had once herself been mighty near flinging -away everything a woman should hold dear, for a man’s smile. She had -been saved, on the very edge of the precipice, by a sort of miracle. -And she often had shuddered, contemplating the horrible depth of the -chasm into which she had all but fallen. Did she not now read on the -young wife’s face something of the frantic recklessness that had once -moved her? - -Besides which she had a pride in her sex which made it personally -grievous to her when a woman went wrong. And lastly, she flattered -herself she was a judge of character, and yonder military buck was a -bad, dissipated, selfish wretch, with no use for a woman but to break -her heart. - -As she entered the hall, discreetly, in the wake of the new-comers, she -found Lady Selina in high wrangle with her swain. - -“And I say, I will have a post-chaise, Colonel Endacott! And I protest -you’re making a vast mistake! Pray, Mr. Landlord, a bowl of broth and -a glass of wine in a private parlour--and a post-chaise, with a decent -pair of horses, in an hour. The gentleman will go to the coffee-room. -Yes, sir--you will go to the coffee-room. Do I hear you curse, sir? La! -here is a charming thing, indeed!” - -Suddenly her eye became fixed, she uttered an exclamation in a high -tone of surprise and excitement. - -“Sir Jasper Standish--as I am a living woman!” - -Pamela then perceived, standing in the doorway of the coffee-room -chewing a gold toothpick, no less a personage than that dashing -widower. He was surveying his whilom betrothed and her illicit -cavalier with a bantering, swaggering, insolent air in which there was -more than a glint of jealous anger. - -As Lady Selina hailed him, he tripped forward. “Good heavens,” -reflected the milliner, “I’d slap any man’s face, gentleman or no, who -dared to look at me like that!” - -Colonel Endacott, biting his full under lip, and blackly scowling, -seemed very much of this opinion; but the Mad Brat extended both hands: - -“Sir Jasper!--well met! ’Tis a vast of pleasure for me to greet an old -friend. Why, here am I, on my road to London--pray, Colonel Endacott, -do you know Sir Jasper Standish? Gentlemen, let me introduce you: -Colonel Endacott--Sir Jasper Standish. Hearing that I was about to post -to London, Colonel Endacott kindly offered me a seat in his curricle. -My husband’s Colonel, Sir Jasper. The wife of a poor Lieutenant, it was -no offer to decline! Colonel Endacott, who is really all condescension -and good nature, Sir Jasper, had further been so obliging as to offer -me his escort for the whole way. But the mischief is in it, we must -part at the first stage! Colonel Endacott will have it he must lie at -Blandford, and I am equally determined to push on!” - -Colonel Endacott ground his high-booted foot on the flags of the hall, -as though he would pulverise the volatile lady who was so obviously -making a mock of him. - -“Why, my dear Lady Selina,” cried Sir Jasper, in a rich voice of -victory, “let me then be your escort! Fie, fie, you cannot think of -travelling alone with a mere post-boy for protection, and the roads so -unsafe. I could not think of allowing it! So old a friend as I am may -surely be permitted the privilege, the honour, the duty----” - -“Pray, sir,” interrupted Colonel Endacott, his tones were husky with -rage, “you misunderstand, I think. Lady Selina Simpson is under my -protection. It was entirely for her sake----” Here he cast a glance of -mingled ardour and fury upon the Mad Brat who tossed her head till her -ringlets danced and hunched a shoulder on him in its military cloak, -with a taunting glance. “’Twas but for her sake,” the harsh accents -grew raucous, “that I suggested the night’s rest here. Lady Selina -knows that she had but to speak the word, and I am ready----” - -“Ah, not at all!--_pas du tout!_” cried Lady Selina, who had a French -mother and certain inherited French ways that added not a little to -her provoking charm. “_M. le Colonel_ has made such big eyes at me I -am positively frightened of him! And my dear mamma--do you know Sir -Jasper, my dear widowed mother is at Wimbledon, and I have half a mind -to go see her there--Mamma would be desolated if I were to travel under -the escort of a gentleman who is not my husband. Since my Frederick is -so tied up in his military duty--yes, you cruel man, you saw to that! -But with Sir Jasper, Mamma knows Sir Jasper so well! Pray Mistress -Landlady, bring me to a chamber where I can wash the dust off my face. -’Tis vile travelling in an open curricle. And you, Mr. Landlord, -what of that parlour and that broth? How would it be, Sir Jasper, if -you were to join me over this slight refection? We could discuss the -journey.” - -Sir Jasper drew a long breath through dilated nostrils, and bowed, the -corners of his lips tilting upwards in a smile of immense complacency. -The landlady, who had been staring at the young Madam with amazement -and disapproval, majestically led the way up the narrow stairs, -expressing by a tremulous shake of her lace-capped head, and an -occasional loud sniff, that such manners and customs were not to be -encouraged on her premises. - -Pamela Pounce saw the look which Colonel Endacott cast at the fatuously -smirking Sir Jasper. - -“There will be swords drawn over this, before my Lady Selina has had -time to dry that dusty face of hers!” she thought. “And dear, to -goodness, I have it in my heart to hope it may be Sir Jasper, for -if not, it is out of the frying-pan into the fire with her, imp of -mischief as she is!” - -Out of the frying-pan into the fire it was. Colonel Endacott and Sir -Jasper strolled, to all appearance, very amicably together through -the meadow gate, in the direction of a certain hazel copse by the -river-side. In a very short time, Sir Jasper reappeared, alone; and, -strolling back into the stable-yard of the Crown, directed, with -the most genteel coolness, that a couple of ostlers should take a -wheelbarrow and a chair, or maybe a hurdle, and carry in his friend, -who had had an accident to his leg, and would be found, incapacitated, -just beside yonder little copse. It was not a matter of the least -consequence, he assured them--a mere sprain, a scratch, or something of -the sort. - -The ostlers grinned. He cast a gold piece among them and passed on, -treading jauntily, in quest of the parlour. - -Miss Pounce, eating bread-and-butter and cold meats, to a modest bowl -of milk in the window seat of the now nearly deserted coffee-room, saw -the gallant gentleman’s return, and understood. - -“’Tis the devil and all,” she thought, “that my Lord Kilcroney is so -free with his bottle; he might be of use here. If my Lady Selina thinks -she can fling off Sir Jasper as easy as she has her Colonel, she is -mighty mistaken. Such a chance doesn’t come a woman’s way twice! Silly -child, and him with an old score to pay off--and their starting off by -night and all--why, what ails the creature, to be up to such cantrips?” -thought Pamela. - -She bit into her bread-and-butter, and then flung the slice away from -her. “Well, drunk or sober, my Lord will be better than nobody.” - -Upon this decision Pamela shook the crumbs from her skirt, set a hand -on each hip, and holding her white chin very high in the air, made a -bee line for the snuggery whence loud sounds of mirth proclaimed the -presence of convivial company. - -Here she found my Lord, with a long clay pipe in one hand, and cool -tankard in the other, hilariously setting the tune to a roaring chorus -consisting of a lumpish young squire, a land surveyor and the local -doctor. My Lord was more than exhilarated, as Pamela saw at the first -glance. He went on melodiously chanting and beating time, while the -others, staring at the handsome girl, fell dumb, and young Squire Pitt, -all one purple blush, began bashfully to draw himself out of his chair. - -“My Lord--my Lord Kilcroney!” began Pamela with an unwonted sense of -discomfiture, “I crave a word apart with your Lordship.” - -But before she could make her voice heard, she was unceremoniously -thrust aside by Mr. Landlord himself. - -“And, craving _your_ pardon,” he chided, “this is no place for young -gals. Doctor Dawson, sir, you’re wanted.” - -A dark man in a scratch wig, with a long bony face, and a restless -protruding jaw, jumped up from his corner, and came forward. - -“What’s happened?” quoth he, feeling about his pockets with big knuckly -hands that made Pamela shudder. - -“Why, will you step outside, sir. Gentleman hurt through the leg.” - -“Odds my bones, I’ve left it at home. You’ll have to send little Jimmy -for my instrument-case. What’s happened, I say?” - -The landlord wagged his head slyly, pinching his lips together, and -made a thrusting gesture with his right forefinger; then he tapped the -same finger on the side of his rubicund nose. - -The doctor gave a short laugh; and, with a not altogether steady step, -suffered himself to be led down the passage. - -Lord Kilcroney imitated the double gesture with his pipe-stem and -sprang to his feet. - -“Now, glory be to God,” said he, “if I had known there was such a -diversion on hand----” Here he seemed suddenly to become aware that -Miss Pounce’s presence in the snuggery portended something distinctly -unusual. As he stared at her with a flicker of returning acuteness in -his amiable eye, she seized the opportunity. - -“For God’s sake, my Lord, give me a moment apart.” - -He lurched towards her; and she seized him by the lapel of his coat; -again he looked at her; caught perhaps something of the urgency of her -spirit, and said, in altered tones: - -“Wait a minute, me girl, I’ll just drain the tankard to steady my head; -and I am with you.” - -She got him as far as the window seat in the coffee-room; and then, -casting a glance without, exclaimed: - -“See for yourself. Turn your eye yonder, and see for yourself.” - -Lord Kilcroney flung a bewildered gaze in the direction of her pointed -finger; opened his mouth, closed it again and wiped his forehead. - -“Jasper! Jasper Standish and a lady, as I live! What the dev----” - -“Don’t you know the lady, my Lord? See now, see now, with the lamplight -on her face. She is getting into the chaise. Don’t you recognise Lady -Selina Simpson?” - -“Se--Selina Simpson!” echoed he with a fine tipsy sibilance. He let -himself fall on the window seat, and gripped his head in both hands. -“S--Selina?” - -“The Mad Brat, my Lord! Good God, we are too late, the chaise is -driving away! This will be fine hearing for my Lady Verney, and for -your lady’s own dear friend, Lady Nan!” - -Lord Kilcroney dropped his hands and sat, with protruding eyeballs, -staring at Pamela. Then his waistcoat was shaken with a rumbling laugh; -and he made an uncertain poke with his forefinger. - -“And, is it poor Simpson, then, that’s in the claws of that old red -raven of a doctor this minute? And my Lady off with Jasper? D’ye know, -it’s a monstrous joke! Oh, Gad--Jasper was her first love!” - -Pamela flung a single searching look upon him. He was muttering to -himself, and laughing, winking, and shaking his head, the picture of -affable inebriety. - -“My Lord, my Lord, you must pull yourself together! Lady Selina is not -twenty yet. And him such a bold, bad man, as indeed you know, my Lord. -’Tis ruin, ’tis disgrace, for her, and that poor innocent lad, her -husband!” - -“By the powers!” Kilcroney staggered to his feet. “Jasper’s a -scoundrel! I’ll not have it! What, Nan Day’s little sister, mere -child--monstrous! Get me a wet napkin, girl.” - -He plucked his wig from his head as he spoke, and looked, Pamela -thought, singularly boyish with his close-cropped red poll exposed to -view. Even as she hurried out to summon the drawer, a brilliant idea -struck her. - -Colonel Endacott’s curricle, and a fresh horse! With anything of a -roadster, so light a vehicle should easily overtake the post-chaise. -’Twas a plan of retributive justice which pleased Miss Pounce hugely. - -What woman wills, God wills, is an adage invented by some sycophantic -admirer of the fair sex. Nevertheless, there is no doubt that the -world is apt to give way before anyone with determined purpose, and, -if this anyone happens to be young, handsome, and a woman, the odds -are overwhelmingly in her favour. Pamela ordered, cajoled, reasoned, -implored, bustled, taunted and threatened. She made lavish, yet -judicious, use of her Weymouth earnings; and before the half-hour was -out, found herself, high-perched by the side of my Lord (a strange -figure, with the wet napkin still tied round his head), driving--as the -group of ostlers who watched him depart unanimously declared with much -admiration--like hell. - -It was one of those summer nights when scarce a leaf stirs; there was -not a cloud upon the sky which stretched a wonderful amethyst blue, -deepening to sapphire at the zenith, and paling into translucent -primrose to the west, where the last traces of the afterglow still -lingered. There would be a fine moon presently, had been the -landlord’s parting words, as he respectfully deposited his Lordship’s -wig, hat and pistol case in the curricle. The streets of the sleepy -little town were clatteringly left behind; the steep hill surmounted; -and then the Salisbury road lay before them, straight and white across -the grey mystery of the downs. - -Pamela thought it was the strangest night vision she had ever beheld. -The earth seemed as featureless as the sky; the winds, which had slept -in the valley, were lively enough here, as if the earth were their -playground. There was a wonderful harvest smell, warm and wholesome, -of ripening apples and full corn-fields, in the air--a great, mellow, -sweet aroma from the fertile fields and farms that lay below the down -lands. - -Pamela was not romantic, yet she could not but feel that it was “as -good as play-acting” to be hurled through the summer night across this -vast peaceful loneliness, by this same mad, kind, fantastic Irish lord -whose odd adventures were always the talk of the town. - -“A stern chase is a long chase,” observed the nobleman, dexterously -tipping the flanks of the big bay. - -The horse bounded, and the curricle rocked; and Pamela choked a scream. -Over the crest of the down a huge red moon began to show her face, -swimming in a curious misty incandescence. She sucked in her breath, -and her heart stirred sentimentally. If only the man of her choice had -been sitting beside her, how vastly she would have enjoyed herself! - -They swung through the shadows of a copse and out into the open again. -My Lord cast his napkin into the road; he begged Pamela to lend him a -hand with his wig. The black horse had fallen to a foot pace up the -steep incline, and my Lord, with returning sobriety, began apparently -to consider the kind of undertaking into which he had plunged, and how -to carry it through. - -“We’ll not,” said he, gliding into speed again with the care of the -practised whip, “overhaul them much before Salisbury.” Then the -moonlight caught his face, showed his quizzical smile, and the rueful -questioning of his eyes, as he went on: “And what the dickens am I to -say, when we do? Split me, Miss Pounce, you’ve rushed me into a pretty -kettle of fish! Bejabers, what in the world is it to me all said and -done, that Jasper should be off with that little lady?” - -“Oh fie, my Lord----” began Pamela warmly. But he interrupted her: - -“Well, well, never fear, ’tis as good an excuse as another for a bit of -fun. Faith, didn’t my Lady tell me the other day, it was the regular -old gentleman I was growing into!” - -He caught her absently by the waist, as he spoke, laughing as the -vehicle swerved; and Pamela found herself again wishing for the company -of the dark-browed slim young gentleman to whom she had given her -heart, and who--Mr. Jocelyn had such sensibility--would have understood -the really grave nature of this seemingly mad quest. - - * * * * * - -It was after two hours’ steady chase, even as the road dipped from -the downs into the valley, back again into the corn-fields--these had -a marvellous silver and amber glow in the moonlight--that they saw, -half a furlong away, the black bulk of a moving vehicle, and heard the -double clatter of leisurely trotting horses. - -“’Tis but another farm waggon,” quoth my Lord. - -“Nay,” cried Pamela, “for I see the bobbing of the post-boy, plain as -plain.” - -“Do you, indeed, my dear?” cried my Lord in exhilarated accents, -handling the reins with a zest that sent the horse forward with a great -impetus. “You haven’t dathered your sight with the Crown’s noted treble -ale. Well, if this isn’t the fun of the world! I’ve stopped a coach -before, my dear--that in your ear--but split me, never from a curricle, -with a monstrous fine girl beside me!” - -“I’m a farmer’s daughter,” she said resolutely, “and can manage a -horse with anyone. So I can take the reins, my Lord, when you want your -hands free.” - -“’Pon me sowl!” ejaculated Kilcroney admiringly. But he proceeded no -further, for the black horse, gathering speed, and excited by the -clatter of rival hoofs, made a dash forward, and my Lord, with voice -and cracking lash, encouraged the canter to a gallop. - -The post-boy started from his jogging trance, looked over his shoulder -and hastily pulled to one side. The curricle went by at a flash; my -Lord never slackened speed till they had reached the bottom of the hill -and a bit beyond. - -“Now,” said Kilcroney, as he manœuvred the curricle right across the -road, “now for the fun of the fair! Just put your lovely hand under the -seat and see if you can lay a hould of me pistols.” - -(My Lord’s brogue became agreeably marked in moments of emotion.) - -The black horse was dancing from hoof to hoof; the curricle swayed -rhythmically to his capers, and Pamela felt, when her companion plucked -the pistols from the case she held open, as if every fibre of her being -were dancing in unison; exhilaration, a sense of splendid adventure, -a spice of fear, and a delightful recklessness had hold of her. She -almost understood now how the “Mad Brat” could fling everything to -the winds for the mere taste of such a moment. Lord Kilcroney thrust -the reins into her hands, leaped lightly from his perch; and he, too, -seemed to dance in the moonlight as he advanced towards the chaise. - -The post-boy had prudently pulled up at sight of the obstacle in the -road; now, as the pistol barrels glinted in the moonlight, he raised -a dismal shout, and dived sideways off the fat grey haunches of his -mount. The landlord of the Crown had provided a stalwart plodding pair -for Lady Selina’s post-chaise; and these were content enough to draw -breath, craning their necks, snorting comfortably down their nostrils, -and shuddering in turn till the harness rattled. - -“How now!” cried an angry voice from the chaise, and Sir Jasper’s -head emerged into the moonlight. “What’s the matter? rascal, scamp! -Hallo, stap me!” This in quite another tone. “Why, the devil--’tis a -highwayman, a footpad!” - -Kilcroney, who had planted himself sideways, with face concealed by his -extended arm, chaunted in the most musical tones he could muster: - -“Stand and deliver!” Then, breaking into laughter, he disclosed his -countenance, with a fine flourish of his mantons; “Stand and deliver,” -he repeated. “Jasper, stand and deliver your stolen goods!” - -There was a faint cry within the chaise, altogether lost in the -round volley of oaths from Sir Jasper. He consigned Kilcroney’s soul -to perdition, and his body to corruption, with explicitness and -repetition, and commanded the post-boy to remount and carry on, if he -did not wish to be flayed alive. But the sagacious youth was apparently -swallowed in the darkness. - -Presently Kilcroney’s shouts of laughter were echoed in silver titters -both from the chaise and the curricle. These sounds goaded the baronet -to madness. “Poor Jasper!” (Kilcroney afterwards related) “He was -foaming like a tankard of porter, and was almost as black in the face, -by Jingo, when he lepped from the chaise and at me. Troth, he had his -sword out, and sure the next moment he would have let the moonlight -through me, hadn’t my little lady in the chaise caught him by the -skirts of his coat! It was the grand slap he came on the flint of the -road--aye, and the grand escape I had of it intirely! ‘Up with you, me -boy, and we’ll have it out like gentlemen,’ cries I, and by the time he -got up again I was ready for him, as pretty as Angelo, with the barkers -back in my pocket and my little bodkin taking the air in my hand.” - -It was not the first time that my Lord Kilcroney and Sir Jasper had -crossed blades. Indeed, Kilcroney’s mercurial temperament, and Sir -Jasper’s inflammably jealous one, had come into collision more than -once. In the last encounter the Irishman had had the worst of it; but -to-night, whatever disability the day’s potations might have caused him -was more than counter-balanced by the blind rage which possessed the -baronet as he fell to his guard. - -Perhaps Sir Jasper had been already in none too good a temper when the -novel highwayman had arrested him in the full course of elopement, -certainly the countenance with which his Helen watched the encounter -from the chaise window displayed more entertainment than anxiety. In -fact, when Sir Jasper, receiving a neat thrust through his sword arm, -fell back with a curse and a groan, it was Pamela who cried out in -alarm, while Lady Selina shrilly laughed and clapped her hands. - - * * * * * - -An odd little procession towards midnight roused the slumbers of the -Mitre Inn at Salisbury, with peremptory summons. Two ladies in a -post-chaise, escorted by two gentlemen in a curricle. The ladies seemed -to be in high dudgeon with each other. The gentlemen very friendly. -Indeed, the younger and better-looking of the two (though both were -personable men) was distinctly assiduous in his attention to the other, -who had (as the landlord was duly informed) met with a nasty accident -through the overturning of the curricle at a sharp corner, which robbed -him of the use of his right arm. - -The post-boy had a curious tale to tell over a restoring mug of ale. -But so scared and bewildered did he appear; so monstrous a jumble did -he make of highwaymen and duels, that the landlord, who was a sensible -man, diagnosed pure coward’s flim-flams, and promptly dismissed him to -his straw. - - * * * * * - -Pamela slept late. She had been allotted the dressing-room of the -superior bed-chamber which she had herself claimed for Lady Selina. -Her last thought, as she snuggled down in the feather bed, had been: -“I’ve got her safe, the little fool!” and the first that bore into her -consciousness in the morning was the same comforting reflection: “I’ve -got her safe.” - -Angry words had passed between the two women in the chaise last night. -Though Pamela had been unable to make head or tail of the arguments -produced by the “Mad Brat” to justify her conduct, every word had -revealed a childish inconsequence. - -“One would say,” thought the milliner, as she lay, reflecting on -her impressions, “that the silly chit had laid some wager, or was -pretending to be wicked for the mere show off of the thing. For, if -ever I saw a gentleman set down, it was Sir Jasper last night! In my -opinion he was mortal glad to be out of it at the price. Never saw him -so loving with my Lord! And, as for her, she looked at him like a wild -cat, as she passed him by, on the way to her room.” - -Pamela sat on the edge of her bed, yawned, and gazed at the door which -separated her from Lady Selina’s apartment, congratulating herself -that, so old-fashioned was the hostelry, there was no other issue. But, -as she looked, the smile faded from her face. The door was not quite -closed! She remembered very well how my Lady Selina had banged and -bolted it last night, intimating thereby, better than by any speech, -what she thought of the intrusive proximity of the milliner. - -“It’s not possible----!” On the spur of suspicion, Pamela was out of -bed and into the next room at a spring. Sunshine was pouring in between -the open shutters; the great four-post bed was empty. There was no -trace of the fair delinquent, save a long gauntletted glove on the -floor. - -“Well, of all--of all the minxes!” Miss Pounce pivoted on herself. -“Pamela, my girl, you’re fooled! And you such a light sleeper, to think -you should have slept so deep and let the bird fly!” - -She ran back to her own room and, after ringing the bell violently, -proceeded like a hurricane to her toilet. Cold water and yellow soap -were good enough for her any day. The service at the Mitre seemed -scarce like to add to its reputation. Miss Pounce was well advanced, -indeed she had reached the stage of buttoning her trim figure into the -grey riding coat, before the repeated attacks on the bell-pull produced -a panting housemaid. - -“Oh, please, Miss,” began this damsel volubly, “was you ringing? I was -kept by the gentlemen in Blue Parrot, helping the gentleman to bind the -other gentleman’s arm, what hurt himself. And that there post-boy was -not so far out, for if ever I see a sword cut----” - -Pamela interrupted with an ejaculation of relief. - -“Sir Jasper is still in the inn, then? And my Lord, too?” - -“Aye, Miss----” - -“And the lady?” - -“The lady’s been gone this hour, Miss. Oh, aye, she went off with the -other gentleman----” - -“What----?” shrieked Pamela. - -“Oh, aye, Miss! The handsome, dark gentleman what travelled all the way -from London to meet her. Last night, when he came riding in, missis and -all of us agreed, we never saw a handsomer gentleman. ‘I expect,’ says -he, ‘a lady by coach from Weymouth.’” She stopped to stare: “Be’n’t you -well, Miss?” - -Pamela had fallen into a chair. A cold and pricking fear had laid -hold of her. There are premonitions of the heart which out-leap any -perception of the wits. - -“His name, his name!” she gasped. - -“Lud, now!” The girl clacked her tongue. “I did hear her call him----” - -“Stay!” cried Pamela. “Was it Bellairs?” - -“Lud, Miss,” cried the girl, “however did you know?” - -“Because,” said Miss Pounce sternly, “I am the lady he came to meet.” - - * * * * * - -With the same deadly composure she ordered a post-chaise, and started -once again in pursuit. This time she would have no man’s help. She -would go alone. “What business is it of yours?” had cried Lady Selina -insolently, last night. And she had answered: “It’s every true woman’s -business to keep another straight if she can.” But now, here was no -altruistic interference; here love and life were at stake for her. Here -was her own business and nobody else’s, with a vengeance! - -Gone this hour! Well, she would overtake them at Basingstoke, where -they must halt of a certainty. - -Pamela had had, in a little purse apart, twenty golden guineas, her own -profit in the successful week’s transactions in modes at Weymouth. She -had meant to add them to the comfortable nest of savings which were to -facilitate her marriage with her charming spendthrift. Now the shining -company in the green silk meshes had already notably dwindled; and at -every five miles or so, Pamela would draw forth a coin and, thrusting -her pretty head out of the window, would hail the post-boy and hold it -up to his sight. - -“Another goldfinch for you, my lad, if you mend your speed!” - -By the time they reached Basingstoke there were four sovereigns for -the youth; and if he was sweating, it was nothing to which the horses -were doing. They dripped and trembled and steamed, foam-flecked from -mane to tail. Pamela’s green purse was considerably lighter; but it -had been worth it. The fat dappled greys which had trotted off with my -Lady Selina and Mr. Bellairs that morning were even now being led out -of the shafts. A comfortable trot they had come at, to judge by their -untroubled appearance. - -“Yes, Miss,” said the formidable-looking landlady who ruled at the -Angel, Basingstoke, and who, no doubt, found a distinct growth of beard -and a bass voice as useful to her if not more than the support of -any man. “A lady and a gentleman are partaking of refreshment in the -parlour. And what might you be wanting with them?” - -Her eye, small and fierce as a wild boar’s, appraised the new guest up -and down. - -Pamela saw that travelling alone she was suspect; she had an -inspiration. - -“I am Lady Selina’s own woman,” she said pertly. “Her Ladyship expects -me. Kindly direct me.” - -She had seen too many lady’s maids not to be able to play the part: she -was now the fashionable Abigail to the life--plausible, supple, sure -of herself; her gaze was challenging; her air deferential, yet on the -verge of insolence. - -The bearded landlady shrugged her shoulders, and told the drawer to -bring Miss into Britannia. - -“You needn’t knock, young man, I will announce myself,” said Pamela. -She tapped discreetly with her nails on the panel just beneath the -figure with the trident; then, without waiting for a reply, opened the -door. - -In one swift glance she took in the scene: the Mad Brat did not seem to -be getting on any better with Mr. Bellairs than she had with either her -Colonel or her Baronet. She was seated, her elbows on the table, her -chin in her hand. With frowning brows, a fixed and angry stare, flushed -cheeks and pouting lips, she was the image of “Beauty in a rage.” Mr. -Bellairs was pacing the room with his hands behind his back; and he, -too, the very incarnation of bad temper. - -The milliner did not give herself time to reflect whether the obvious -tension betokened good or evil for her. She had to act. - -“If you please, my Lady,” she said, advancing as if she had been indeed -what she represented herself, “you have forgotten your glove.” - -“Good heavens!” cried Mr. Bellairs. “Pamela!” - -He wheeled in his walk to turn upon the newcomer a countenance marked -with the oddest mixture of discomfiture, amusement and wrath. - -Lady Selina merely cast a glance from the glove which Pamela laid -before her to the girl’s face, and lifted her eyebrows. She had passed -from anger to insolence. Pamela itched to box her ears. - -“I assure you, my dear,” protested Mr. Bellairs in an ill-assured -voice, “that _I_ have forgotten nothing.” - -Pamela understood well enough the intention of the speech; she smiled -scornfully. And when Lady Selina, just rolling her eyes in his -direction, dropped the words: “Except your manners, sir,” she felt -certain the rebuke had been well deserved. - -Indeed, now that she came to look at him more closely, she saw a red -patch on the olive of his cheek, and guessed the offence which had -called for such a buffet. Oh! she knew the ways of men; and, to her -philosophy, the gentleman who, thrust into such a position as Mr. -Bellairs, should have failed to take advantage of it, would have been -little less than a milksop. Nevertheless, there had been defection. It -was her, Pamela, whom he had come to meet--Pamela his affianced, to -whom, because of the very difference in their stations, he owed more -delicacy of attention than if she had been his equal. And he had let -himself be whisked away by the first wanton who lifted a beckoning -finger! Serve her right if he had kissed, and serve him right if she -had slapped! Oh, she knew the ways of men! But--the ways of the Mad -Brat was still enigma to her. What was this piece of mischief about? As -if to answer the perplexed thought, Lady Selina suddenly spoke: - -“’Tis positive sickening to think that there is not a gentleman of -the lot who would give a lady his protection as far as Town, without -thrusting his odious attentions on her!” - -“But my dear, good creature----” - -“I’m not your dear, good creature, sir!” Lady Selina sprang to her -feet and burst into a sudden passion of tears. “Was ever anyone,” she -cried, “so plagued, so persecuted, so distracted, so unhappy, so--so -abandoned?” - -Pamela again felt an overwhelming conviction that here was one merely -as naughty and as innocent as a child. - -“Oh, my dear!” she exclaimed, and caught her forcibly into her own -strong warm arms. There was more than a touch of the mother in Pamela; -she never could bear to leave suffering uncomforted. “Why, in the name -of God, did you leave your own husband?” - -The Mad Brat screamed as if the last word had been a blow. - -“Oh, oh, my Fred!” - -Pamela cast a look over the bride’s heaving shoulder at Mr. Bellairs. - -“There, sir!” she said severely, “there’s for you and your vanity! For -you, and the others, who are so ready to think that any lady who so -much as smiles on you is mad in love with you--and all the while you’re -but the catspaw of her jealousy!” - -“Pamela!” cried Jocelyn Bellairs. He had been standing, very ill -at ease, struggling with the variety of his emotions. He now broke -into laughter which had yet something of wrath in it. “I’ve been a -confounded fool! And I swear you are an angel! Oh, confusion! I can’t -bear to hear a woman cry. But I must say Joseph himself would have been -tempted by that little--devil, this morning!” - -“Hush!” cried the milliner, rocking the weeping Selina as if it had -been a baby, but shooting another glance at Mr. Bellairs which, after -all, held more indulgence than resentment. “Hush, sir! Leave me with -her Ladyship. Go, refresh yourself with a tankard of cool ale, after -your dusty drive--and send the landlady hither with the hartshorn.” - -If Mr. Bellairs had thought highly of Pamela before, he now told -himself she was the pattern of true women. He paused but to kiss the -firm, capable, white hand she extended to him, and then hastily closed -the door between himself and those distressing vapours. - -“Now, my dear,” coaxed Pamela, “I see how it is. You’ve had a quarrel -with that elegant young officer of yours. You’ve had a quarrel, and you -went off in a huff with that dark, bad old Colonel----” - -Lady Selina shuddered, and stamped her foot; and inarticulately -declared that if she’d had a dagger to her hand, she’d have stabbed him. - -“Well, Sir Jasper’s done it for you, very neat, in the leg.” - -Selina interrupted with another scream. - -“Sir Jasper? Why, he was worse! Oh, how glad I was to see My Lord -Kilcroney run him through!” - -“I’m sure,” said Pamela, a little dryly, “it is a mercy, my Lady, I -came alone after you and Mr. Bellairs! Mr. Bellairs is engaged to me, -my Lady, and I don’t seem to fancy a hole in him.” - -Lady Selina was much too absorbed in her own grief to have a thought -to spare for any such trifles. She fell again into her chair, cast -her arms upon the table and buried her face on them, wailing, in an -extravagance of despair, that her Fred would never forgive her, and -that there was nothing left for her but death. - -“Why, there’s no harm done,” Pamela briskly consoled. “I’m ready to -vouch for you that you’ve travelled with me, and slept with me----” she -broke off. Her quick ear had caught the sound of certain well-known -accents in the courtyard without. - -“Glory be to God,” my Lord was saying, in his richest brogue. “Will -anyone catch me that young gentleman by the leg? He’s not safe to be -loose. Trip him up, I tell you, or there’ll be murder done! Come back, -Simpson, you _omadhaun_!” - -Pamela made a spring for the door; she had said that she would not -have a hole made in her Jocelyn: heaven knew what catastrophe might -not ensue were she not on the spot to prevent mischief with Bellairs, -apt as tinder, and this young Simpson in his fury! She went like the -wind down the passage, and across the bar, towards that spot in the -courtyard whence arose sounds of struggle and fierce objurgation. - -She found a slim young gentleman in uniform locked in the embrace of -Lord Kilcroney. My Lord was laughing so considerably that it threatened -to invalidate his grip. The young officer’s countenance shocked Pamela, -so disfigured was it by rage and jealousy. - -Even as she approached he wrenched himself free, and, leaping forward, -all but knocked her down in his blind rush. Pamela’s body, however, was -as well-balanced as her mind; she propped herself against the Inn porch -and caught the outraged young husband vigorously by the arm. It was her -words which really arrested him. - -“You are looking for Lady Selina, Mr. Simpson, sir; for your wife? She -is waiting for you in the parlour.” - -He stared at her, his lips moving, his eyes starting, his whole -begrimed, unshorn, exhausted countenance stamped with a wildness of -despair. - -“Yes, sir.” Pamela slipped her firm clasp down to his shaky, ice-cold -hand; her voice was as soothing as her touch: “Yes, sir, her Ladyship -and I we came here together. Her Ladyship was good enough to accept my -services on the road. I’m travelling back to business from Weymouth, -it fitted in nicely. And Mr. Jocelyn Bellairs, coming to meet me at -Salisbury--he and I being an engaged couple, if you will forgive my -being so personal--that fitted in very nicely too, for he escorted us. -Your lady’s very young to be travelling alone, sir----” - -Pamela knew that there is no better defence for the guilty than to -reproach the innocent. - -“There now, me boy,” cried Kilcroney, taking up the cue, “didn’t I tell -you it was the wrong scent you were after, altogether? Hadn’t ye me -word for it that Colonel Endacott and Jasper had fixed up that little -meeting at Blandford ever since the night of my Lady Kilcroney’s rout -at Weymouth? And sure, when my Lady Selina walked into the Crown Inn, -wasn’t Miss Pounce behind her? Miss Pounce will swear to that. And -I’ll lay you me oath that she’s speaking truth, since it’s the one -coach-load of it we all were.” - -But whether or no these assurances and plausibilities might have proved -convincing to the inflamed brain of the injured husband, they were -doomed to failure by the action of the Mad Brat herself. - -This impetuous young woman suddenly hurled herself into their midst and -upon her husband’s breast, tears, kisses, passionate confession pouring -from her. - -“Oh, Fred, Fred, darling! Oh, my own and only love--I tried to run -away from you, and I couldn’t! Fred, my angel, it was all that cruel -thing--that cruel thing you said. Oh, Fred, you do remember?” She shook -him. “You know you said that you did not think any other man would be -such a f-f-fool--Yes, you did--you said no other man would be such a -f-fool as to run away with me!” - - * * * * * - -My Lord Kilcroney, with his Lady and the other friends interested in -the erratic young couple, were all agreed that the Mad Brat was well -matched in her spouse. For of all the hot-headed, light-witted, frantic -fellows--these were my Lord’s own words--he had ever had to deal with, -Lieutenant Fred Simpson, of the Marines, was the “jewel of the lot!” -The united efforts of himself, Squire Day, and Lord Verney, were -ultimately successful, however, in preventing the series of duels which -Master Fred at first seemed bent on bringing about. Even Lord Kilcroney -did not escape a challenge; but on his representing his services on the -Salisbury Road, the affair had to end in a laugh. Mr. Jocelyn Bellairs, -on Pamela’s prompting, made a very frank and full apology, couched in -language so admirably chosen, that even the young Othello had to be -satisfied with it. - -“I confess,” he said, “that I was led away, Mr. Simpson. I confess that -I lost my head (and very nearly my heart). But ask yourself whether, in -such company, an angel from heaven might not have succumbed!” - -Providence itself intervened in the matter of Colonel Endacott, for -this gentleman’s wound, whether owing to original distemper in the -blood, or to the ministrations of Doctor Dawson, became so inflamed -that it was held as more than doubtful whether that gallant officer -would ever walk again. He was invalided out of the regiment, thereby -providing at least one step for Mr. Simpson. - -There only remained Sir Jasper--no easy personage to deal with, as my -Lord knew from long experience. But by the time the baronet’s sword arm -had healed an excellent post abroad had been obtained for Mr. Simpson; -and to the infinite relief of all her relations, the Mad Brat and her -spouse carried their bickerings and reconciliations to another clime. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -IN WHICH MY LADY KILCRONEY HAS THE LAST WORD - - -The best-tempered of women are apt to be a trifle peevish after a -wedding, especially if they are responsible for the event, and have had -most of the trouble of the bridal preparations. - -My Lady Kilcroney had had two reasons for patronising the marriage -between Mr. Jocelyn Bellairs and Miss Pamela Pounce. - -In the first place she flattered herself that she had made it. It -pleased her sense of rectitude to know that it was an heroic decision. -Jocelyn, the rascal, had gone too far, and Pamela was a first-class -good girl. ’Twas but justice. - -Then my Lady Kilcroney was a woman of the world, to her finger-tips. -The alliance, which she could not have prevented if she would, was a -strange, foolish, unequal business. To silence ill-natured gossip and -the malicious tattle of dear, intimate enemies, there was nothing for -it but for her to take a firm stand of championship. ’Twas the only -attitude to ensure respect, from Royalty downwards. To tell the truth, -Kitty was getting a bit sick of Royalty, and would not have cared had -she followed my Lady Flo’s example, but not upon this crisis. She knew -how to take the Queen by this time, not being a born fool, and, indeed, -had emerged more triumphantly than ever from a situation which might -have lost her her place at Court. - -“I thought of you, ma’am,” she had said, turning up her eyes, “how you -would have wished me to act, you that sets virtue before everything.” - -If the Queen had gathered a lower opinion of Pamela Pounce’s moral -stamina from the interview than was justified by facts, she had gained -a vastly higher one of my Lady Kilcroney’s. So the incident was closed -to Kitty’s advantage. - -And now Pamela was wed, and my Lady Kilcroney had made quite a droll, -pretty feast of it. - -Farmer Pounce, in blue cloth and brass buttons, Mrs. Pounce, in a -lovely new bonnet trimmed for the occasion by her daughter, followed by -a rosy progeny, had been really such honest, simple dears that Kitty -quite loved them; and Pamela (sensible, excellent creature that she -was, who had chosen to be married in a snowy muslin and a white chip), -had looked so sweet and wholesome and happy, and withal remained so -respectfully in her place, was so pleasantly unassuming, that my Lady -very genuinely considered old Bellairs’s nephew to be more lucky than -he deserved. - -She had convened her special circle to witness the ceremony, which was -performed in her own drawing-room at Hertford Street; not omitting -Mistress Lafone, for Kitty would not put it into the minx’s power to -say that she was afraid of her tongue. - -There was a brisk passage between these two ladies, out of which Kitty, -she flattered herself, emerged victorious. - -“Dear, to be sure,” had said Molly, with her most tart-sweet air, “how -monstrous strange it will be to be ordering hats from your own niece, -my Lady Kilcroney!” - -And my Lady had responded: she trusted to Heaven that Pamela would be -more particular than ever, now, whom she served. - -Madame Mirabel had had the good sense to excuse herself on the ground -of age and infirmity; a piece of tact which, coupled with the handsome -present she bestowed on her esteemed partner, was as clever a stroke -of business as the astute old lady had ever contrived. - -Miss Clara Smithson and Miss Polly Popple, on the other hand, who were, -as the whole of the Bond Street establishment knew, that devoted to -their dear, darling Miss Pounce that they were as glad of her happiness -in the depths of their feeling hearts as if it had been their own, -could not, of course, be omitted from the list of guests; and indeed, -it may be said that Lydia’s only consolation on a day, which was -otherwise unmitigatedly displeasing to her, was the opportunity which -the presence of these females gave her of discharging her bosom of some -of its accumulated gall. - -When all her company had departed, my Lady owned that she was tired, -and Lydia was very plainly given to understand that she must not -presume upon a relationship, which was, to say the least of it, -ridiculous. - -Lydia had made herself far finer than the bride, and Kitty thought it -prodigious bad taste in her to be so ruffled and flounced and panniered. - -“And the shade of lavender you’ve chosen, Lydia, positive sets my teeth -on edge, and I should have thought you’d have known better than to -rouge yourself up, till anyone would take my own woman for an actress, -and a low one at that.” - -“Well, then, I’m sure, your Ladyship,” retorted Lydia with spirit, “not -having any acquaintance with such females, save your Ladyship’s own -dear friend, my Lady Mandeville (who would have looked better for a bit -of colour to-day), it wouldn’t become me to set myself up against your -Ladyship’s opinion in the matter; but considering the practice I’ve had -on your Ladyship it’s to be hoped I’d know how to put on the rouge, if -I don’t show it off as well as your Ladyship, not being so full in the -face. And I’m sorry your Ladyship ain’t satisfied with the hue of my -gown, it being one of her own presents to me, Christmas five years that -was. And indeed,” went on Lydia, “I never could abide it myself, but -since it was when your Ladyship went sudden out of mourning for old -Mr. Bellairs, and she didn’t know what to do with the eight yards of -taffety, I couldn’t be so disobliging as not to make the best of them. -And indeed, considering the occasion to-day I thought they fitted in -uncommon apt.” - -“Dear, to be sure!” cried Kitty, sinking into a chair. “What a tongue -you have! ’Tis to be hoped it isn’t a family failing or else my poor -dear Bellairs’s nephew, the last of his name, will have a sad time of -it.” - -“Dear, to be sure!” echoed Lydia, with frightful acrimony, “I could -find it in my heart to pity that pore young gentleman myself. No one -can ever say I wanted that there owdacious marriage.” (Which was -certainly true. Lydia would infinitely have preferred to see her niece -bloom unplucked on her maiden stem.) “Of all the unpleasant situations, -I says, him to have a wife a milliner as is born to another class, and -spend his days torn, so to speak, between the high and the low. He’ll -never make a fine lady of Pamela, what’s a work-woman in the bone, and -he can’t,” pursued Lydia, moved by her own eloquence almost to tears, -“strip his own gentility off of himself like a coat and sit as it were -in his shirt-sleeves, common, for the rest of his life.” - -Seeing angry retort leaping in her mistress’s eye, Lydia proceeded in -a great hurry, to get out the next most disagreeable remark she could -think of: “And as to him being the last of his name, your Ladyship -can’t go counting on that. Mrs. Jocelyn Bellairs,” Lydia tittered, -“will have a long family like her mother before her, and before we know -where we are we’ll have little Bellairses a-running about all over the -place like spiders----” - -She broke off. Intimately acquainted with her mistress as she was, -there were sides to her character which Miss Lydia Pounce had as yet -failed to grasp. She had thought to pay out my Lady for her odious -unkindness, but her shaft had singularly missed the mark. All the -ill-humour vanished from Kitty Kilcroney’s charming countenance. She -clasped her hands with a genuine cry of delight. - -“Why, Lydia, I’ll be godmother to the first girl, I will indeed! It -ought to be a charming creature, they so handsome and so happy! I’ll -be godmother, and ’twill be a vast of pleasure to me, child, to think -there’ll be another Kitty Bellairs!” - - -THE END - - -_Printed in Great Britain by Wyman & Sons Ltd., London, Reading and -Fakenham_ - - - - -TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES: - - - Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_. - - Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. - - Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized. - - Archaic or variant spelling has been retained. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PAMELA POUNCE *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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