* * * * *

The opening door disturbed these ponderings.  The nurse appeared, carrying the little boy.  Lady Tranmore took him on her knee and caressed him.  He was a piteous, engaging child, generally very docile, but liable at times to storms of temper out of all proportion to the fragility of his small person.  His grandmother was inclined to look upon his passions as something external and inflicted—­the entering-in of the Blackwater devil to plague a tiny creature that, normally, was of a divine and clinging sweetness.  She would have taught him religion, as his only shield against himself; but neither his father nor his mother was religious; and Harry was likely to grow up a pagan.

He leaned now against her breast, and she, whose inmost nature was maternity, delighted in the pressure of the tiny body, crooning songs to him when they were left alone, and pausing now and then to pity and kiss the little shrunken foot that hung beside the other.

She was interrupted by a soft entrance and the rustle of a dress.

“Ah, Margaret!” she said, looking round and smiling.

The girl who had come in approached her, shook hands, and looked down at the baby.  She was fair-haired and wore spectacles; her face was round and childish, her eyes round and blue, with certain lines about them, however, which showed that she was no longer in her first youth.

“I came to see if I could do anything to-day for Kitty.  I know she is very busy about the ball—­”

“Head over ears apparently,” said Lady Tranmore.  “Everybody has lost their wits.  I see Kitty has chosen her dress.”

“Yes, if Fanchette can make it all right.  Poor Kitty!  She has been in such a state of mind.  I think I’ll go on with these invitations.”

And, taking off her gloves and hat, Margaret French went to the writing-table like one intimately acquainted with the room and its affairs, took up a pile of cards and envelopes which lay upon it, and, bringing them to Lady Tranmore’s side, began to work upon them.

“I did about half yesterday,” she explained; “but I see Kitty hasn’t been able to touch them, and it is really time they were out.”

“For their party next week?”

“Yes.  I hope Kitty won’t tire herself out.  It has been a rush lately.”

“Does she ever rest?”

“Never—­as far as I can see.  And I am afraid she has been very much worried.”

“About that silly affair with Prince Stephan?” said Lady Tranmore.

Margaret French nodded.  “She vows that she meant no harm, and did no harm, and that it has been all malice and exaggeration.  But one can see she has been hurt.”

“Well, if you ask me,” said Lady Tranmore, in a low voice, “I think she deserved to be.”