of life. When he comes back he must enter society; I have put his name up at White's; may I introduce him to you?"
Lady Montfort hesitated, and, after a pause, said almost rudely, "No."
She left the Colonel, slightly shrugging his shoulders, and passed into the billiard-room with a quick step. Some ladies were already there, looking at the players. Lord Montfort was chalking his cue. Lady Montfort walked straight up to him; her color was heightened; her lip was quivering; she placed her hand on his shoulder with a wifelike boldness. It seemed as if she had come there to seek him from an impulse of affection. She asked with a hurried fluttering kindness of voice, "If he had been successful?" and called him by his Christian name. Lord Montfort's countenance, before merely apathetic, now assumed an expression of extreme distaste. "Come to teach me to make a cannon, I suppose!" he said, mutteringly, and, turning from her, contemplated the balls and missed the cannon.
"Rather in my way, Lady Montfort," said he then, and retiring to a corner, said no more.
Lady Montfort's countenance became still more flushed. She lingered a moment, returned to the drawing-room, and for the rest of the evening was uncommonly animated, gracious, fascinating. As she retired with her lady guests for the night, she looked round, saw Colonel Morley, and held out her hand to him. "Your nephew comes here to-morrow," said she, "my old playfellow; impossible quite to forget old friends—good-night."
CHAPTER IX.
"Les extremes se touchent."
The next day the gentlemen were dispersed out of doors—a large shooting party. Those who did not shoot, walked forth to inspect the racing stud or the model farm. The ladies had taken their walk; some were in their own rooms, some in the reception rooms, at work, or reading, or listening to the piano—Honoria Carr Vipont again performing. Lady Montfort was absent; Lady Selina kindly supplied the hostess' place. Lady Selina was embroidering, with great skill and taste, a pair of slippers for her eldest boy, who had just entered at Oxford, having left Eton with a reputation of being the neatest dresser, and not the worst cricketer, of that renowned educational insti-
