at last, Marion. Pray make me known to Lord Culduff." In
the little act of recognition which now passed between these two people,
an acute observer might have detected something almost bordering
on freemasonry. They were of the same "order," and, though the
circumstances under which they met left much to explain, there was that
between them which plainly said, "_We_ at least play on 'the square'
with each other. _We_ are within the pale, and scores of little
misunderstandings that might serve to separate or estrange meaner folk,
with _us_ can wait for their explanations." They chatted away pleasantly
for some minutes over the Lord Georges and Lady Georginas of their
acquaintance, and reminded each other of little traits of this one's
health or that one's temper, as though of these was that world they
belonged to made up and fashioned. And all this while Marion stood
by mute and pale with anger, for she knew well how Lady Augusta was
intentionally dwelling on a theme she could have no part in. It was
with a marked change of manner, so marked as to imply a sudden rush of
consciousness, that Lady Augusta, turning to her, said,--

"And how do you like Rome?"

A faint motion of the eyelids, and a half-gesture with the shoulders,
seeming to express something like indifference, was the reply.

"I believe all English begin in that way. It is a place to grow
into--its ways, its hours, its topics are all its own."

"I call it charming," said Lord Culduff, who felt appealed to.

"If you stand long on the brink here," resumed she, "like a timid
bather, you 'll not have courage to plunge in. You must go at it at
once, for there are scores of things will scare you, if you only let
them."

Marion stood impassive and fixed, as though she heard but did not heed
what was said, while Lord Culduff smiled his approval and nodded his
assent in most urbane fashion.

"What if you came and dined here to-morrow, Marion? My sister is
wonderfully 'well up' in the place. I warn you as to her execrable
dinner; for her cook is Italian, _pur sang_, and will poison you with
his national dishes; but we 'll be _en petit comite_."

"I think we have something for to-morrow," said Marion, coldly, and
looking to Lord Culduff.

"To-morrow--Thursday, Thursday?" said he, hesitating. "I can't remember
any engagement for Thursday."

"There is something, I'm sure," said Marion, in the same cold tone.

"Then let it be for Friday, and you 'll meet my br