rine, when
they found themselves in the tea-room.

"God knows! I wonder Errington did not go in for diplomacy when he
smashed up. He is just the man for protocols, and solemn mysteries, and
all that."

"Men cannot jump into diplomatic appointments, can they?"

"No, I suppose not. I hear some of Errington's political articles have
attracted Lord G----'s notice; they say he'll be in Parliament one of
these days. Well, he deserves to win, if that sort of thing be worth
winning."

"Of course it is. Have you no ambition, Lord de Burgh? Were I a man, I
should be very ambitious."

"I have no doubt you would; and if you had a husband you'd drive him up
the ladder at the bayonet's point."

"Poor man! I pity him beforehand."

"I don't," returned De Burgh, shortly. "Do you know, I have just been
dining with Ormonde and his wife, not as their guest, but at Lady Mary
Vincent's. Tell me, hasn't he behaved rather badly to you? I want to
know, because I don't want to cut him without reason."

"Pray do not cut him on my account, Lord de Burgh. Colonel Ormonde has
very naturally, for a man of his calibre, felt disgusted at my inability
to carry out my original arrangements respecting my nephews, and he
showed his displeasure, after his kind, with remarkable frankness; but I
am not the least angry, and I beg you will make no difference for my
sake."

"If you really wish it--" he paused, and then went on--"Mrs. Ormonde
whined a good deal to me in a corner about her affection for you, her
hard fate, Ormonde's brutality, etc., etc.; she is a _rusee_ little
devil."

"Poor Ada! I fancy she has not had a pleasant time of it. Had she been a
woman of feeling, it would have been too dreadful...."

"Well, you make your mind easy on that score. Now, what about the boys?"

Katherine was vexed to find how impossible it was to talk of them with
composure; she was unhinged in some unaccountable way, and Lord de
Burgh's ill-repressed tenderness made her feel nervous. At length she
asked him to come upstairs and look for Mrs. Needham, as her head ached,
and she thought she would like to retire if she could be spared.

"Yes, you had better--you don't seem up to much," he returned, pressing
her hand slightly against his side. "I can't bear to see you look
worried and ill. That's not a civil speech, I suppose; but, ill or well,
you _know_ your face is always the sweetest to me, and I am always dying
to know what you are thinking of. There, I