t
of man himself. But I am surprised that he should let his daughter
conduct herself as she does."

"I suppose he can't help it," said the countess.

"But a clergyman, you know, Lady De Courcy! He should at any rate
prevent her from exhibiting in public, if he cannot induce her to
behave at home. But he is to be pitied. I believe he has a desperate
life of it with the lot of them. That apish-looking man there, with
the long beard and the loose trousers--he is the woman's brother. He
is nearly as bad as she is. They are both of them infidels."

"Infidels!" said Lady De Courcy, "and their father a prebendary!"

"Yes, and likely to be the new dean, too," said Mrs. Proudie.

"Oh, yes, poor dear Dr. Trefoil!" said the countess, who had once in
her life spoken to that gentleman. "I was so distressed to hear it,
Mrs. Proudie. And so Dr. Stanhope is to be the new dean! He comes
of an excellent family, and I wish him success in spite of his
daughter. Perhaps, Mrs. Proudie, when he is dean, they'll be better
able to see the error of their ways."

To this Mrs. Proudie said nothing. Her dislike of the Signora Neroni
was too deep to admit of her even hoping that that lady should see
the error of her ways. Mrs. Proudie looked on the signora as one of
the lost--one of those beyond the reach of Christian charity--and was
therefore able to enjoy the luxury of hating her without the drawback
of wishing her eventually well out of her sins.

Any further conversation between these congenial souls was prevented
by the advent of Mr. Thorne, who came to lead the countess to the
tent. Indeed, he had been desired to do so some ten minutes since,
but he had been delayed in the drawing-room by the signora. She had
contrived to detain him, to get him near to her sofa, and at last
to make him seat himself on a chair close to her beautiful arm. The
fish took the bait, was hooked, and caught, and landed. Within that
ten minutes he had heard the whole of the signora's history in such
strains as she chose to use in telling it. He learnt from the lady's
own lips the whole of that mysterious tale to which the Honourable
George had merely alluded. He discovered that the beautiful creature
lying before him had been more sinned against than sinning. She had
owned to him that she had been weak, confiding, and indifferent to the
world's opinion, and that she had therefore been ill-used, deceived,
and evil spoken of. She had spoken to him of her mutilat