ewhat mollified by the absence of Bice now, which
seemed to him, perhaps, a tribute to his own evident disapproval; but
still he was uneasy. It was not a fit thing to take place in his house.
He saw far more clearly than he had done before that a stop should have
been put ere now to the Contessa's operations, and in the light of last
night's proceedings perceived his own errors in judgment--those errors
which he had, indeed, been sensible of, yet condoned in himself with
that wonderful charity which we show towards our own mistakes and
follies. He ought not to have asked her to the Hall; he ought not to
have permitted himself to be flattered and amused by her society, or to
have encouraged her to remain, or to have been so weak as to ask the
people she wished, which was the crowning error of all. He had invited
Montjoie, a trifling boy in whom he felt little or no interest, to
please her, without any definite idea as to what she meant, but only
with an amused sense that she had designs on the lad which Montjoie was
quite knowing enough to deliver himself from. But the turn things had
taken displeased Sir Tom. It was too barefaced, he said to himself. He,
too, felt like his more innocent wife, as if he were an accomplice in a
social crime.

"I've been swindled, don't you know," Montjoie said; "I've been taken a
mean advantage of. None of these other beggars are going away like me.
They will get all the good of the music to-night, and I shall be far
away. I could cry to think of it, I could, don't you know; but you don't
care a bit, Countess."

The Contessa, as usual, smiled. "_Enfant_!" she said.

"I am not an infant. I am just the same age as everybody, old enough to
look after myself, don't you know, and pay for myself, and all that sort
of thing. Besides, I haven't got any parents and guardians. Is that why
you take such a base advantage of me?" cried the young man.

"It is, perhaps, why----" The Contessa was not much in the way of
answering questions; and when she had said this she broke off with a
laugh. Was she going to say that this was why she had taken any trouble
about him, with a frankness which it is sometimes part of the astutest
policy to employ.

"Why what? why what? Oh, come, you must tell me now," the young man
said.

"Why one takes so much interest in you," said the Contessa sweetly.
"You shall come and see me, _cher petit Marquis_, in my little house
that is to be, in Mayfair; for you have found