‘I hear you are the most beautiful singer,’ was of course the opening remark.  ’All Italians sing so beautifully.  I travelled in Italy with Sir John when we were first married, and we went to Venice, where they go about in gondolas, you know.  You don’t wear powder, I see.  No more will Beatrice; though many people think her curls would look all the better for powder.  She has so much hair, hasn’t she?  Our last maid dressed it much better than this; but, do you know, she wore Beatrice’s stockings before they went to the wash, and we couldn’t keep her after that, could we?’

Caterina, accepting the question as a mere bit of rhetorical effect, thought it superfluous to reply, till Lady Assher repeated, ’Could we, now?’ as if Tina’s sanction were essential to her repose of mind.  After a faint ‘No’, she went on.

’Maids are so very troublesome, and Beatrice is so particular, you can’t imagine.  I often say to her, “My dear, you can’t have perfection.”  That very gown she has on—­to be sure, it fits her beautifully now—­but it has been unmade and made up again twice.  But she is like poor Sir John—­he was so very particular about his own things, was Sir John.  Is Lady Cheverel particular?’

‘Rather.  But Mrs. Sharp has been her maid twenty years.’

’I wish there was any chance of our keeping Griffin twenty years.  But I am afraid we shall have to part with her because her health is so delicate; and she is so obstinate, she will not take bitters as I want her. You look delicate, now.  Let me recommend you to take camomile tea in a morning, fasting.  Beatrice is so strong and healthy, she never takes any medicine; but if I had had twenty girls, and they had been delicate, I should have given them all camomile tea.  It strengthens the constitution beyond anything.  Now, will you promise me to take camomile tea?’

‘Thank you:  I’m not at all ill,’ said Caterina.  ’I’ve always been pale and thin.’

Lady Assher was sure camomile tea would make all the difference in the world—­Caterina must see if it wouldn’t—­and then went dribbling on like a leaky shower-bath, until the early entrance of the gentlemen created a diversion, and she fastened on Sir Christopher, who probably began to think that, for poetical purposes, it would be better not to meet one’s first love again, after a lapse of forty years.

Captain Wybrow, of course, joined his aunt and Miss Assher, and Mr. Gilfil tried to relieve Caterina from the awkwardness of sitting aloof and dumb, by telling her how a friend of his had broken his arm and staked his horse that morning, not at all appearing to heed that she hardly listened, and was looking towards the other side of the room.  One of the tortures of jealousy is, that it can never turn its eyes away from the thing that pains it.

’By-and-by every one felt the need of a relief from chit-chat—­Sir Christopher perhaps the most of all—­and it was he who made the acceptable proposition—­