Moreover, Caroline had emphasized the 'yesterday' and
'to-day,' showing that the interval which had darkened Evan to everybody
else, had illumined him to her. He employed some courtly eloquence,
better unrecorded; but if her firm resolution perplexed him, it threw a
strange halo round the youth from whom it sprang.

The hour was now eleven, and the Countess thought it full time to retire
to her entrenchment in Mrs. Bonner's chamber. She had great things
still to do: vast designs were in her hand awaiting the sanction of
Providence. Alas! that little idle promenade was soon to be repented.
She had joined her sister, thinking it safer to have her upstairs till
they were quit of Evan. The Duke and the diplomatist loitering in the
rear, these two fair women sailed across the lawn, conscious, doubtless,
over all their sorrows and schemes, of the freight of beauty they
carried.

What meant that gathering on the steps? It was fortuitous, like
everything destined to confound us. There stood Lady Jocelyn with
Andrew, fretting his pate. Harry leant against a pillar, Miss
Carrington, Mrs. Shorne, and Mrs. Melville, supported by Mr. George
Uplift, held watchfully by. Juliana, with Master Alec and Miss Dorothy,
were in the background.

Why did our General see herself cut off from her stronghold, as by a
hostile band? She saw it by that sombre light in Juliana's eyes, which
had shown its ominous gleam whenever disasters were on the point of
unfolding.

Turning to Caroline, she said: 'Is there a back way?'

Too late! Andrew called.

'Come along, Louisa, Just time, and no more. Carry, are you packed?'

This in reality was the first note of the retreat from Beckley; and
having blown it, the hideous little trumpeter burst into scarlet
perspirations, mumbling to Lady Jocelyn: 'Now, my lady, mind you stand
by me.'

The Countess walked straight up to him.

'Dear Andrew! this sun is too powerful for you. I beg you, withdraw into
the shade of the house.'

She was about to help him with all her gentleness.

'Yes, yes. All right, Louisa rejoined Andrew. 'Come, go and pack. The
fly 'll be here, you know--too late for the coach, if you don't mind, my
lass. Ain't you packed yet?'

The horrible fascination of vulgarity impelled the wretched lady
to answer: 'Are we herrings?' And then she laughed, but without any
accompaniment.

'I am now going to dear Mrs. Bonner,' she said, with a tender glance at
Lady Jocelyn.

'My mother is s