and
the flattery of her cousin Henri? Ashe was supposed to be devoting
himself to the Dean's wife; but both he and she listened most of the
time to the sallies and the laughter of the circle where Kitty presided.

"My dear young lady," cried the delighted Dean, "I never find anybody
who can talk of these things--it is really astonishing. Ah, <i>now</i>, we
English know nothing of France--nor they of us. Why, I was a mere
school-boy then, and I had a passion for their society, and their
books--for their <i>plays</i>--dare I confess it?"--he lowered his voice and
glanced at his hostess--"their plays, above all!"

Kitty clapped her hands. The Dean looked at her, and ran on:

"My mother shared it. When I came over for my Eton holidays, she and I
lived at the Theatre-Francais. Ah, those were days! <i>I</i> remember
Mademoiselle Mars in 'Hernani.'"

Kitty bounded in her seat. Whereupon it appeared that just before she
left Paris she had been taken by a friend to see the reigning idol of
the Comedie-Francaise, the young and astonishing actress, Sarah
Bernhardt, as Dona Sol. And there began straightway an excited duet
between her and the Dean; a comparison of old and new, a rivalry of
heroines, a hot and critical debate that presently silenced all other
conversation in the room, and brought Lord Grosville to stand gaping and
astounded behind the Dean, reflecting no doubt that this was not
precisely the Dean of the Diocesan Conference.

The old man indeed forgot his age, the girl her youth; they met as
equals, on poetic ground, till suddenly Kitty, springing up, and to
prove her point, began an imitation of Sarah in the great love-scene of
the last act, before arresting fate, in the person of Don Ruy, breaks in
upon the rapture of the lovers. She absolutely forgot the Grosville
drawing-room, the staring Grosville girls, the other faces, astonished
or severe, neutral or friendly. Out rolled the tide of tragic verse,
fine poetry, and high passion; and though it be not very much to say, it
must at least be said that never had such recitation, in such French,
been heard before within the walls of Grosville Park. Nor had the lips
of any English girl ever dealt there with a poetic diction so
unchastened and unashamed. Lady Grosville might well feel as though the
solid frame of things were melting and cracking round her.

Kitty ceased. She fell back upon her chair, smitten with a sudden
perception.

"You made me!" she said, rep