sentence once in
a way with Val, suddenly looked up. Her colour had heightened, though it
was brilliant at all times.

"Are you speaking of my maid?" she said--and it might be that she had not
attended to the conversation, and asked in ignorance, not in scorn. "Her
name is Anne."

"I was speaking of Anne Ashton," said Lord Hartledon.

"Allow me to beg Anne Ashton's pardon," returned Lady Maude; her tone
this time unmistakably mocking. "Anne is so common a name amongst
servants."

"I don't care whether it is common amongst servants or uncommon," spoke
Lord Hartledon rather hotly, as though he would resent the covert sneer.
"It is Anne Ashton's; and I love the name for her sake. But I think it
a pretty name; and should, if she did not bear it; prettier than yours,
Maude."

"And pray who _is_ Anne Ashton?" demanded the countess-dowager, with as
much hauteur as so queer an old figure and face could put on, whilst
Maude bent over her employment with white lips.

"She is Dr. Ashton's daughter," spoke Lord Hartledon, shortly. "My
father valued him above all men. He loved Anne too--loved her dearly;
and--though I don't know whether it is quite fair to Anne to let this
out--the probable future connection between the families was most welcome
to him. Next to my father, we boys reverenced the doctor; he was our
tutor, in a measure, when we were staying at Hartledon; at least, tutor
to poor George and Val; they used to read with him."

"And you would hint at some alliance between you and this Anne Ashton!"
cried the countess-dowager, in a fume; for she thought she saw a fear
that the great prize might slip through her fingers. "What sort of an
alliance, I should like to ask? Be careful what you say, Hartledon; you
may injure the young woman."

"I'll take care I don't injure Anne Ashton," returned Lord Hartledon,
enjoying her temper. "As to an alliance with her--my earnest wish is, as
it was my father's, that time may bring it about. Val there knows I wish
it."

Val glanced at his brother by way of answer. He had taken no part in the
discussion; his slight lips were drawn down, as he balanced a pair of
scissors on his forefinger, and he looked less good-tempered than usual.

"Has she red hair and sky-blue eyes, and a doll's face? Does she sit in
the pew under the reading-desk with three other dolls?" asked the foaming
dowager.

Lord Hartledon turned and stared at the speaker in wonder--what could be
so exciting her?