“No, my lady!  Why, there is the honorable Miss Chatterton almost dying to play a game of her favorite chess with Mr. Denbigh.  She has beaten us all but him, and her triumph will not be complete until she has him too at her feet.”

And as Denbigh politely offered to meet the challenge, the board was produced, and the parties were seated.  Lady Chatterton stood leaning over her daughter’s chair, with a view, however, to prevent any of those consequences she was generally fond of seeing result from this amusement; every measure taken by this prudent mother being literally governed by judicious calculation.

“Umph,” thought John, as he viewed the players, while listening with pleasure to the opinions of Grace, who had recovered her composure and spirits; “Kate, after all, has played one game without using her feet.”

Chapter XI.

Ten days or a fortnight flew swiftly by, during which Mrs. Wilson suffered Emily to give Clara a week, having first ascertained that Denbigh was a settled resident at the rectory, and thereby not likely to be oftener at the House of Francis than at the hall, where he was a frequent and welcome guest, both oh his own account and as a friend of Doctor Ives.  Emily had returned, and she brought the bride and groom with her; when one evening as they were pleasantly seated at their various amusements, with the ease of old acquaintances, Mr. Haughton entered.  It was at an hour rather unusual for his visits; and throwing down his hat, after making the usual inquiries, he began without preface—­

“I know, good people, you are all wondering what has brought me out this time of night, but the truth is, Lucy has coaxed her mother to persuade me into a ball in honor of the times; so, my lady, I have consented, and my wife and daughter have been buying up all the finery in B——­, by the way, I suppose, of anticipating their friends.  There is a regiment of foot come into barracks within fifteen miles of us, and to-morrow I must beat up for recruits among the officers—­girls are never wanting on such occasions.”

“Why,” cried the baronet, “you are growing young again, my friend.”

“No, Sir Edward, but my daughter is young, and life has so many cares that I am willing she should get rid of as many as she can at my expense.”

“Surely you would not wish her to dance them away,” said Mrs. Wilson; “such relief I am afraid will prove temporary.”

“Do you disapprove of dancing, ma’am?” said Mr. Haughton, who held her opinions in great respect as well as a little dread.

“I neither approve nor disapprove of it—­jumping up and down is innocent enough in itself, and if it must be done it is well it were done gracefully; as for the accompaniments of dancing I say nothing—­what do you say, Doctor Ives?”

“To what, my dear madam?”

“To dancing.”

“Oh let the girls dance if they enjoy it.”