’Oh, you know very well I’m disgraced; he’s going to marry Violet, and I shall not be a marchioness after all.’

‘If my beautiful darling likes she can be a duchess,’ replied Mrs. Barton with a silvery laugh.

‘I don’t understand, mamma.’

’I mean that we aren’t entirely dependent on that wretched little Marquis with his encumbered property; if he were fool enough to let himself be entrapped by that designing little beast, Violet Scully, so much the worse for him; we shall get someone far grander than he.  It is never wise for a girl to settle herself off the first season she comes out.’

’It is all very well to say that now, but you made me break off with dear Edward, who was ever so nice, and loved me dearly.’

Mrs. Barton winced, but she answered almost immediately: 

’My dear, we shall get someone a great deal grander than that wretched Marquis.  There will be a whole crowd of English dukes and earls at the Castle next year; men who haven’t a mortgage on their property, and who will all fight for the hand of my beautiful Olive.  Mr. Harding, Alice’s friend, will put your portrait into one of the Society papers as the Galway beauty, and then next year you may be her Grace.’

‘And how will they do my portrait, mamma?’

’I think you look best, darling, with your hair done up on the top of your head, in the French fashion.’

‘Oh! do you think so?  You don’t like the way I have it done in now?’ said the girl; and, laughing, she ran to the glass to admire herself.  ‘Barnes said I looked sweet this morning;’ and five minutes after she was tossing her head nervously, declaring she was miserable, and often she burst out crying for no assignable cause.  Mrs. Barton consoled and flattered gaily; but the sweet placid countenance was sometimes a little troubled.  As the girls left the breakfast-room one morning she said, as if asking their advice: 

’I have just received an invitation from Dungory Castle; they are giving a tennis-party, and they want us to go to lunch.’

‘Oh! mamma, I don’t want to go,’ cried Olive.

‘And why, my dear?’

’Oh! because everybody knows about the Marquis, and I couldn’t bear their sneers; those Brennans and the Duffys are sure to be there.’

‘Bertha’s in Dublin,’ said Mrs. Barton, in an intonation of voice a little too expressive of relief.

’Gladys is just as bad; and then there’s that horrid Zoe.  Oh!  I couldn’t bear it.’

’It will look as if we were avoiding them; they will only talk the more.  I always think it is best to put a bold face on everything.’

’I couldn’t, I couldn’t.  I’m broken-hearted, that’s what I am.  I have nothing to do or to think of.’