barrassment and self-reproach. Embarrassment; for, with an intuitive delicacy, she had shrank from ever naming Mrs. Courtenaye to Ethel; and, with self-reproach, that, in a moment's carelessness, she could have so lightly alluded to such a painful subject. Perhaps it was best to tell Ethel at once: if ever she went into society at all, she would inevitably hear of it, and her own concealment would have the appearance of a dissimulation,—the furthest from her thoughts. Yes, it was best to tell Ethel at once.
"I have not," said Lady Marchmont, "told you of the friendship that existed between Mrs. Courtenaye and myself, for I felt that the subject must be a painful one to you."
How painful, the deadly paleness that over spread Ethel's face, sufficiently told. Henrietta would not observe it, but went on with her story, thus giving her friend time to recover; and, before it was done, both were mingling their tears together.
"I have avoided the subject myself," said Ethel at last, in a faltering tone; "even now
