Kate was to take a part in one of the plays, and passed the intervening time in getting it by heart, and rehearsing with Bluebell, while the necessary costume was animatedly discussed between them.  The latter fancied she had attained sufficient self-command to listen unconcernedly to any conversation about Lord Bromley or “The Towers,” but she could not quench the beaming delight in her eyes when Kate one day observed, carelessly,—­

“I believe you will see the play, after all, Miss Leigh, as mamma has decided to take Mabel and Adela, which means you also; for Uncle Bromley has rather a horror of children, and would no more have any of the juveniles of the family without a keeper, than he would admit a pack of hounds into the house.  Why, Miss Leigh, you look delightful!  Do you really care to go?” Then her suspicions awakening, she set a trap like lightning.

“I wonder” (carelessly) “if poor Harry Dutton will get back in time.  He is invalided home from Scutari.”

Self-command—­everything—­vanished.

“How did you hear that?” with crimson cheeks and suspiciously dimmed eyes.

“How?” with marked emphasis.  “Would it not be stranger if one had not heard it?  Uncle Bromley named it in his letter.  He was wounded,” bringing out the words slowly, “and almost died in the hospital.  I hope he will survive the voyage home.”

“That girl’s a fiend,” thought Bluebell, rushing off to her own room in a paroxysm of terror.  Then, as she tried to think it out, it became quite evident Harry could not be aware of her change of residence, perhaps had received no letters at the hospital, and would not even know where to find her when he returned.  Still, she would be in the right direction, for no doubt he would go to Bromley Towers.  But what a place to meet in!  And, being ignorant of his address, she could not even send a line of warning.

Romantic notions of fascinating Lord Bromley, and thus facilitating confession when Harry returned, stole through her brain.  Kate’s play paled in dramatic interest to the possible “situations” that seemed impending.  One drawback to taming the lion was the probability of scarcely being on speaking terms with him.  Her mission, indeed, seemed to be to keep the children out of his way.  But there were the theatricals; children, servants, governesses even, would be privileged to look on that one night.  The coquette nature, dormant from want of practice, awoke again.  Lord Bromley was only a man!  Why couldn’t she make him like her?

Kate observed renewed smiles and animation, and set it down to the hope of seeing Dutton at “The Towers,” especially as she also detected her doing what maids call “a little work for myself,” and effecting wonders with a few yards of muslin and ruffling.

CHAPTER XXXIX.

THE LOAN OF A LOVER.

Parks with oak and chestnut shady,
Parks and ordered gardens great,
Ancient homes of lord and lady,
Built for pleasure and for state. 
—­Tennyson.