bitterly jealous of her still.

"Yes, here; I saw them not three minutes ago. They are only now on their
road home from Cannes. Fancy their making so long a stay!"

"You wrote mamma word that Miss Ashton was about to marry some Colonel
Barnaby."

Mrs. Kattle laughed. It is possible that written news might have been
_asked for_ by the countess-dowager.

"Well, my dear, and so I did; but it turned out to be a mistake. He did
admire her; there was no mistake about that; and I dare say she might
have had him if she liked. How's your brother and his poor leg?"

"Oh, he is well," answered Maude. "Au revoir; I can't stand this crush
any longer."

It was really a crush just then in the room; and though Maude escaped
from it dexterously, Lord Hartledon did not. He was wedged in behind some
stout women, and had the pleasure of hearing another word or two from
Mrs. Kattle.

"Who was that?" asked a lady, who appeared to be her companion.

"Lady Hartledon. He was only the younger brother until a few months ago,
but the elder one got drowned in some inexplicable manner on his own
estate, and this one came into the title. The old dowager began at once
to angle for him, and succeeded in hooking him. She used to write me word
how it progressed."

"She is very beautiful."

"Very."

Lord Hartledon made his escape, and found his wife looking round for him.
She was struck by the aspect of his face.

"Are you ill, Percival?"

"Ill? No. But I don't care how soon we get out of these rooms. I can't
think what brings so many people in them to-day."

"He has heard that _she's_ here, and would like to avoid her," thought
Maude as she took the arm he held out. "The large rooms are empty enough,
I'm sure," she remarked. "Shall we have time to go to the Trianon?"

"If you like. Yes."

He began to hurry through the rooms. Maude, however, was in no mood to be
hurried, but stopped here and stopped there. All at once they met a large
party of friends; those she had originally expected to meet. Quitting her
husband's arm, she became lost amongst them.

There was no help for it; and Lord Hartledon, resigning himself to the
detention, took up his standing before the pictures and stared at them,
his back to the room. He saw a good deal to interest him, in spite of his
rather tumultuous state of mind, and remained there until he found
himself surrounded by other spectators. Turning hastily with a view to
escaping, he trod upon a lady's