over in Algeria in a small lodging,
and the Duke condescended to sing an occasional song on the Italian
stage.

It was all one to Lady Kirton. They had taken their own way, and she
washed her hands of them as easily as though they had never belonged to
her. Had they been able to supply her with an occasional bank-note, or
welcome her on a protracted visit, they had been her well-beloved and
most estimable daughters.

Of the younger sons, all were dispersed; the dowager neither knew nor
cared where. Now and again a piteous begging-letter would come from one
or the other, which she railed at and scolded over, and bade Maude
answer. Her eldest son, Lord Kirton, had married some four or five years
ago, and since then the countess-dowager's lines had been harder than
ever. Before that event she could go to the place in Ireland whenever she
liked (circumstances permitting), and stay as long as she liked; but that
was over now. For the young Lady Kirton, who on her own score spent all
the money her husband could scrape together, and more, had taken an
inveterate dislike to her mother-in-law, and would not tolerate her.

Never, since she was thus thrown upon her own resources, had the
countess-dowager's lucky star been in the ascendant as it had been this
season, for she contrived to fasten herself upon the young Lord
Hartledon, and secure a firm footing in his town-house. She called him
her nephew--"My nephew Hartledon;" but that was a little improvement upon
the actual relationship, for she and the late Lady Hartledon had been
cousins only. She invited herself for a week's sojourn in May, and had
never gone away again; and it was now August. She had come down with him,
_sans ceremonie_, to Hartledon; had told him (as a great favour) that she
would look after his house and guests during her stay, as his mother
would have done. Easy, careless, good-natured Hartledon acquiesced, and
took it all as a matter of course. To him she was ever all sweetness
and suavity.

None knew better on which side her bread was buttered than the
countess-dowager. She liked it buttered on both sides, and generally
contrived to get it.

She had come down to Hartledon House with one fixed determination--that
she did not quit it until the Lady Maude was its mistress. For a long
while Maude had been her sole hope. Her other daughters had married
according to their fancy--and what had come of it?--but Maude was
different. Maude had great beauty; an