m, about to commit herself, was a
pleasant sight to Miss Carrington.

'The worst of these indiscriminate meetings is that there is no
conversation,' whispered the Countess, thanking Providence for the
relief.

Just then she saw Juliana bend her brows at another person. This was
George Uplift, who shook his head, and indicated a shrewd-eyed, thin,
middle-aged man, of a lawyer-like cast; and then Juliana nodded,
and George Uplift touched his arm, and glanced hurriedly behind for
champagne. The Countess's eyes dwelt on the timid young squire most
affectionately. You never saw a fortress more unprepared for dread
assault.

'Hem!' was heard, terrific. But the proper pause had evidently not
yet come, and now to prevent it the Countess strained her energies
and tasked her genius intensely. Have you an idea of the difficulty of
keeping up the ball among a host of ill-assorted, stupid country people,
who have no open topics, and can talk of nothing continuously but
scandal of their neighbours, and who, moreover, feel they are not up
to the people they are mixing with? Darting upon Seymour Jocelyn, the
Countess asked touchingly for news of the partridges. It was like the
unlocking of a machine. Seymour was not blythe in his reply, but he
was loud and forcible; and when he came to the statistics--oh, then you
would have admired the Countess!--for comparisons ensued, braces were
enumerated, numbers given were contested, and the shooting of this one
jeered at, and another's sure mark respectfully admitted. And how lay
the coveys? And what about the damage done by last winter's floods? And
was there good hope of the pheasants? Outside this latter the Countess
hovered. Twice the awful 'Hem!' was heard. She fought on. She kept
them at it. If it flagged she wished to know this or that, and finally
thought that, really, she should like herself to try one shot. The women
had previously been left behind. This brought in the women. Lady Jocelyn
proposed a female expedition for the morrow.

'I believe I used to be something of a shot, formerly,' she said.

'You peppered old Tom once, my lady,' remarked Andrew, and her ladyship
laughed, and that foolish Andrew told the story, and the Countess, to
revive her subject, had to say: 'May I be enrolled to shoot?' though she
detested and shrank from fire-arms.

'Here are two!' said the hearty presiding dame. 'Ladies, apply
immediately to have your names put down.'

The possibility of an exp