“I will not hear a word against Mrs. Hamilton,” exclaimed Lady Helen, with more display of feeling than had yet been perceivable.  “She is a truer friend both to your father and myself than any of those with whom we associate here.”

“It is well you think so, my lady mother,” replied Miss Grahame, in a peculiar tone.  “It is fortunate you are not troubled with jealousy, and that this paragon of perfection, this Mrs. Hamilton, is your friend as well as papa’s.  If I heard my husband so constantly extolling another woman in my presence, I should not be quite so easy.”

If a flush rose to Lady Helen’s pale cheek at these words, it was so faint as scarcely to be perceivable, and she took no notice, except to say—­

“If your great desire to go to this ball is to be with Caroline the first night of her entree, I should think Mrs. Hamilton was the best chaperon you could have.”

“I tell you, mother, I will not go with her.  She has not bewitched me as she has you and papa.  If you would only be quiet for a few hours, I am sure your head would be sufficiently well for you to go with me; and you know I never do enjoy an evening so much as when you accompany me, dear mamma,” she continued, softening the violence with which she had at first spoken into one of the most persuasive eloquence; and humbling her pride and controlling the contempt with which she ever looked on her weak but far more principled mother, she knelt on a low stool by her side, and caressingly kissed Lady Helen’s hand.

“Dear mamma, you would oblige me, I am sure you would, if you knew how much your presence contributes to my enjoyment.  A ball is quite a different thing when I feel I am under your wing, and you know papa prefers my going out with you to any one else.”

Annie spoke truth, though her words appeared but flattery.  The extreme indolence of Lady Helen’s natural disposition, which was now heightened by the lassitude attendant on really failing health, rendered her merely a chaperon in name.  Annie felt very much more at liberty when with her than with any other; she could act as she pleased, select her own companions, coquette, talk, dance, without ever thinking of her mother or being sought for by her, till the end of the evening.  It was enough she was with Lady Helen, to silence all gossiping tongues and to satisfy her father, who, one of the most devoted members of the Lower House, scarcely ever visited such places of amusement, and therefore knew not the conduct of either his wife or daughter.  He long since discovered his authority was as nothing to his children; he felt most painfully his sternness had alienated their affections, and he now rather shrunk from their society; therefore, even at home he was a solitary man, and yet Grahame was formed for all the best emotions, the warmest affections of our nature.  He was ignorant that his wife now very frequently suffered from ill-health, for he had never seen her conduct different even when in youth and perfectly well.  Had he known this, and also the fact that, though trembling at his sternness, she yet longed to receive some token of his affection—­that she really loved him, spite of the many faults and the extreme weakness of her character, he might have been happy.