must be presented at the May drawing-room--that is
imperative. People have begun to talk about me; and unless I make my
_debut_ while their interest is fresh I shall be a failure. There is an
American beauty here, and I believe she and I are considered rivals, and
young men lay wagers about us, as to which will look best at a ball, or
a regatta, what colours we shall wear, and so on. It is immense fun. I
only wish you were here to enjoy it. The American girl is a most
insolent person, but I have had the pleasure of crushing her on several
occasions in the calmest way. In the description of the concert in last
week's newspaper I was called _l'Anglais de marbre_. I certainly had the
decency to hold my tongue while Faure was singing. Miss Bolsover's voice
was heard ever so many times above the music. According to our English
ideas she has most revolting manners, and the money she spends on her
clothes would make your hair stand on end. Now do, dearest grandmother,
make all your arrangements for beginning the campaign directly after
Easter. You must take a house in the very choicest quarter--Lady
Kirkbank suggests Grosvenor-place--and it _must_ be a large house, for
of course you will give a ball. Lady K. says we might have Lord
Porlock's house--poor Lady Porlock and her baby died a few weeks ago,
and he has gone to Sweden quite broken-hearted. It is one of the new
houses, exquisitely furnished, and Lady K. thinks you might have it for
a song. Will you get Steadman to write to his lordship's steward, and
see what can be done?

'I hope the dear hand is better. You have never told me how you hurt
it. It is very sweet of Mary to write me such long letters, and quite a
pleasant surprise to find she can spell; but I want to see your own dear
hand once more.'

CHAPTER XVIII.

'AND COME AGEN BE IT BY NIGHT OR DAY.'

Those winter months were unutterably dreary for Lady Mary Haselden. She
felt weighed down by a sense of death and woe near at hand. The horror
of that dreadful moment in which she found her grandmother lying
senseless on the ground, the terror of that distorted countenance, those
starting eyes, that stertorous breathing, was not easily banished from a
vivid girlish imagination; seeing how few distractions there were to
divert Mary's thoughts, and how the sun sank and rose again upon the
same inevitable surroundings, to the same monotonous routine.

Her grandmother was kinder than she had been in days gone