ch hectic
themes as this which burdened and absorbed her; and she was almost
joining to it, through sympathy with any thought or feeling of one in
whom she had such pride; she had the shudder of revulsion. Further,
Nataly put on, rather cravenly an air, of distress, or she half
designingly permitted her trouble to be seen, by way of affecting her
girl's recollection when the confession was to come, that Nesta might
then understand her to have been restrained from speaking, not evasive
of her duty. The look was interpreted by Nesta as belonging to
the social annoyances dating, in her calendar, from Creckholt,
apprehensively dreaded at Lakelands. She hinted asking, and her mother
nodded; not untruthfully; but she put on a briskness after the nod; and
a doubt was driven into Nesta's bosom.

Her dear Skepsey was coming down to her for a holiday, she was glad
to hear. Of Dudley, there was no word. Nataly shunned his name, with
a superstitious dread lest any mention of him should renew pretensions
that she hoped, and now supposed, were quite withdrawn. So she had told
poor Mr. Barmby only yesterday, at his humble request to know. He had
seen Dudley on the pantiles, walking with a young lady, he said. And
'he feared,' he said; using, a pardonable commonplace of deceit. Her
compassion accounted for the 'fear' which was the wish, and caused her
not to think it particularly strange, that he should imagine Dudley to
have quitted the field. Now that a disengaged Dartrey Fenellan was at
hand, poor Mr. Barmby could have no chance.

Dartrey came to her room by appointment. She wanted to see him alone,
and he informed her, that Mrs. Blathenoy was in the hotel, and would
certainly receive and amuse Nesta for any length of time.

'I will take her up,' said Nataly, and rose, and she sat immediately,
and fluttered a hand at her breast. She laughed: 'Perhaps I'm tired!'

Dartrey took Nesta.

He returned, saying: 'There's a lift in the hotel. Do the stairs affect
you at all?'

She fenced his sharp look. 'Laziness, I fancy; age is coming on. How is
it Mrs. Blathenoy is here?'

'Well! how?' 'Foolish curiosity?' 'I think I have made her of service.
I did not bring the lady here.' 'Of service to whom?' 'Why, to Victor!'
'Has Victor commissioned you?' 'You can bear to hear it. Her husband
knows the story. He has a grudge... commercial reasons. I fancy it is,
that Victor stood against his paper at the table of the Bank. Blathenoy
vowed bl