aunt, who would be sure
to treat them well and kindly, made her the more ready to brave the
dangers of her husband's wrath.

"He must behave well before people, or men will say he is a 'cad' to
visit his disappointment on his poor little simple-hearted wife," she
thought. "He knows that. Then it is an enormous relief that Katherine
still clings to the boys, poor dears! She really is a trump; so I have
only myself to think of; and Duke shall find that his shabbiness and
ill-temper do him no good. It's like drawing his teeth to get my
quarter's allowance, beggarly as it is, from him."

Colonel Ormonde's reflections, as he composed a letter to his steward,
were by no means soothing. Though it was all but impossible for him to
hold his tongue respecting his disappointment, whenever a shade of
difference occurred between him and his wife, he was uncomfortably
conscious that he often acted like a brute toward the mother of his boy,
of whom he was so proud; he was not therefore the more disposed to rule
his hasty, inconsiderate temper. The fact that Mrs. Ormonde had her own
methods of paying him back disposed him to respect her, and it could not
be doubted that in time the friction of their natures would rub off the
angles of each, and they would settle down into tolerable harmony,
whereas a proud, true-hearted woman in her place would have been utterly
crushed and never forgiven.

Ormonde, then, was meditating on his undeserved misfortunes, when the
door was somewhat suddenly and vehemently pushed open, and Mrs. Ormonde
came in, her eyes sparkling, and evidently in some excitement.

"What's the matter?" asked her husband, not too amiably. "Has that
rascally, intruding fellow Liddell kicked the bucket?"

"No; but whom do you think I saw as I was leaving Mrs. Bennett's in Hyde
Park Square, you know?"

"How can I tell? The policeman perhaps."

"Nonsense, Duke! I had just come down the steps, and was turn turning
toward Paddington, for, as it was early, I thought I would take the
omnibus to Oxford Circus (see how careful I am!), when I saw a beautiful
dark brougham, drawn by splendid black horse--the coachman, the whole
turn-out, quite first rate--come at a dashing pace towards me. I
recognized Lord de Burgh inside, and who do you think was sitting beside
him?"

"God knows! The Saratoffski perhaps."

"Really, Ormonde, I am astonished at your mentioning that dreadful woman
to me.

"Oh! are you? Well, _who_ was De Bur