’What harm?  I suppose, miss, you have heard what kind of woman Mrs. Lawler is?  Ask Barnes,’

’You shouldn’t talk in this way, Olive.  We know well enough that Mrs. Lawler was not a lady before she married; but nothing can be said against her since.’

’Oh! can’t there, indeed?  You never heard the story about her and her steward?  Ask Barnes.’

‘Oh! don’t miss; you shouldn’t really!’ said the maid.  ’What will Miss Alice think?’

’Never mind what she thinks; you tell her about the steward and all the officers from Gort.’

And then Mrs. Lawler’s flirtations were talked of until the bell rang for lunch.  Milord and Mrs. Barton had just passed into the dining-room, and Alice noticed that his eyes often wandered in the direction of the policemen walking up and down the terrace.  He returned more frequently than was necessary to the attempt made on Lord Rosshill’s life, and it was a long time before Mrs. Barton could persuade him to drop a French epigram.  At last, in answer to her allusions to knights of old and la galanterie, the old lord could only say:  ’L’amour est comme l’hirondelle; quand l’heure sonne, en depit du danger, tous les deux partent pour les rivages celestes.’ A pretty conceit; but Milord was not en veine that morning.  The Land League had thrown its shadow over him, and it mattered little how joyously a conversation might begin, too soon a reference was made to Griffith’s valuation, or the possibility of a new Coercion Act.

In the course of the afternoon, however, much to the astonishment of Milord and Mrs. Barton in the drawing-room and the young ladies who were sitting upstairs doing a little needlework, a large family carriage, hung with grey trappings and drawn by two powerful bay horses, drove up to the hall-door.

A gorgeous footman opened the door, and, with a momentary display of exquisite ankle, a slim young girl stepped out.

‘I wonder,’ said Mrs. Barton, ’that Mrs. Scully condescends to come out with anything less than four horses and outriders.’

’Elle veut acheter la distinction comme elle vendait du jambon—­a faux poids,’ said Lord Dungory.

’Yes, indeed; and to think that the woman we now receive as an equal once sold bacon and eggs behind a counter in Galway!’

‘No, it was not she; it was her mother.’

’Well, she was hanging on to her mother’s apron-strings at the time.  You may depend upon it, this visit is not for nothing; something’s in the wind.’

A moment after, looking more large and stately than ever, Mrs. Scully sailed into the room.  Mrs. Barton was delighted to see her.  It was so good of her to come, and in such weather as this; and, after having refused lunch and referred to the snow and the horses’ feet, Mrs. Scully consented to lay aside her muff and boa.  The young ladies withdrew, when the conversation turned on the state of the county and Lord Rosshill’s fortunate escape.  As they ascended the stairs they stopped to listen to Mr. Barton, who was singing A che la morte.