Nevertheless, Lord Dungory and Lord Rosshill could not conceal their annoyance; both felt keenly that they had compromised themselves by remaining in the room after the news of so dreadful a catastrophe.  But, as Mrs. Barton was anxious that her daughter’s success should not be interfered with, nothing could be done but to express sympathy in appropriate words.  Nobody, Lord Dungory declared, could regret the dastardly outrage that had been committed more than he.  He had known Lord Kilcarney many years, and he had always found him a man whom no one could fail to esteem.  The earldom was one of the oldest in Ireland, but the marquisate did not go back farther than the last few years.  Beaconsfield had given him a step in the peerage; no one knew why.  A very curious man—­most retiring—­hated society.  Then Lord Rosshill related an anecdote concerning an enormous water-jump that he and Lord Kilcarney had taken together; and he also spoke of the late Marquis’s aversion to matrimony, and hinted that he had once refused a match which would have relieved the estates of all debt.  But he could not be persuaded; indeed, he had never been known to pay any woman the slightest attention.

’It is to be hoped the present Marquis won’t prove so difficult to please,’ said Mrs. Gould.  The remark was an unfortunate one, and the chaperons present resented this violation of their secret thoughts.  Mrs. Barton and Mrs. Scully suddenly withdrew their eyes, which till then had been gently following their daughters through the figures of the dance, and, forgetting what they foresaw would be the cause of future enmity, united in condemning Mrs. Gould.  Obeying a glance of the Lady Hamilton eyes, Lord Dungory said: 

’On cherche l’amour dans les boudoirs, non pas dans les cimetieres, madame.’  Then he added (but this time only for the private ear of Mrs. Barton), ’La mer ne rend pas ses morts, mais la tombe nous donne souvent les ecussons.’

‘Ha! ha! ha!’ laughed Mrs. Barton, ’ce Milord, il trouve l’esprit partout;’ and her light coaxing laugh dissipated this moment of ball-room gloom.

And Alice?  Although conscious of her deficiency in the trois temps, determined not to give in without an effort, she had suffered May to introduce her to a couple of officers; but to execute the step she knew theoretically, or to talk to her partner when he had dragged her, breathless, out of the bumping dances, she found to be difficult, so ignorant was she of hunting and of London theatres, and having read only one book of Ouida’s, it would be vain for her to hope to interest her partner in literature.  The other girls seemed more at home with their partners, and while she walked with hers, wondering what she should say next, she noticed behind screens, under staircases, at the end of dark passages, girls whom she had known at St. Leonards incapable of learning, or even understanding the simplest lessons, suddenly