gentlemen are!" she said. "Much you know of a lady's heart. Now the
truth is, I don't know what might not happen were I to do what you bid
me. Nay, I'm wiser than you would have me; and I'll pity Mr. Gaunt at a
safe distance, if you please, sir."

Neville bowed gravely. He felt sure this was a plausible evasion, and
that she really was afraid to apply his test to his rival's love.

So now, for the first time, he became silent and reserved by her side.
The change was noticed by Father Francis, and he fixed a grave,
remonstrating glance on Kate. She received it, understood it, affected
not to notice it, and acted upon it.

Drive a donkey too hard, it kicks.

Drive a man too hard, it hits.

Drive a woman too hard, it cajoles.

Now amongst them they had driven Kate Peyton too hard; so she secretly
formed a bold resolution; and, this done, her whole manner changed for
the better. She turned to Neville, and flattered and fascinated him. The
most feline of her sex could scarcely equal her _calinerie_ on this
occasion. But she did not confine her fascination to him. She broke out,
_pro bono publico_, like the sun in April, with quips and cranks and
dimpled smiles, and made everybody near her quite forget her late
hauteur and coldness, and bask in this sunny, sweet hostess. When the
charm was at its height, the siren cast a seeming merry glance at
Griffith, and said to a lady opposite, "Methinks some of the gentlemen
will be glad to be rid of us," and so carried the ladies off to the
drawing-room.

There her first act was to dismiss her smiles without ceremony; and her
second was to sit down and write four lines to the gentleman at the head
of the dining-table.

And he was as drunk as a fiddler.

CHAPTER X.

Griffith's friends laughed heartily with him while he was getting drunk;
and when he had got drunk, they laughed still louder, only at him.

They "knocked him down" for a song; and he sang a rather Anacreontic one
very melodiously, and so loud that certain of the servants, listening
outside, derived great delectation from it; and Neville applauded
ironically.

Soon after, they "knocked him down" for a story; and as it requires more
brains to tell a story than to sing a song, the poor butt made an ass of
himself. He maundered and wandered, and stopped, and went on, and lost
one thread and took up another, and got into a perfect maze. And while
he was thus entangled, a servant came in and brought him a note, a