So reflecting, she descended serene and smiling.  Half an hour after, she had so completely recovered herself as to declare she had never seen the boys look so well, that they were quite grown, etc., etc.

After dinner Cecil displayed his exercise and copy books, and received a due meed of praise, not unmixed with a little sarcastic remark or two respecting the wonderful effect of his aunt’s influence, which did not escape the notice of her son, who felt, though he did not understand why, that she was not quite so well pleased as she affected to be.

“And don’t you feel dreadfully dull here?” asked Mrs. Ormonde, as the sisters-in-law strolled along the beach under the shelter of the east cliff, which hid them from the bright morning sunlight.

“No, not as yet.  I should not like to live here always; but at present I like the place.  You must confess it is very pretty.”

“Yes, just now, when the weather is fine.  When you have rain and a gale, it must be fearfully dreary.”

“We have had some rough days, but the bay has a beauty of its own even in a storm, and we shall not be here in the winter.”

“De Burgh runs down to see you pretty often?” asked Mrs. Ormonde, after a short pause.  The old regimental habit of calling men by their surnames still returned when she was off guard.

“Yes,” replied Katherine, calmly; “he seems to enjoy a day by the sea-side.”

Mrs. Ormonde laughed—­a hard laugh.  “I dare say you enjoy it too.”

“Mr. De Burgh is not particularly sympathetic to me, but I like him better than I did.”

“Oh, I dare say he makes himself very pleasant to you, and I never knew him show attention to an unmarried woman before, nor to many married women either.  Of course it would be absurd to suppose that if you had not a good fortune you would see quite so much of him.”

“Naturally,” returned Katherine.  “I fancy my money would be of great use to him; so it would to most men.  That does not affect me.  If it is an incentive to make them agreeable and useful, why, so be it.”

“I did not expect to hear you talk like that.  Now I hate and despise mercenary men.”

“Well, you see, the man or the woman must have money or there can be no marriage.”

“How worldly you have grown, Kate!” cried Mrs. Ormonde, in a superior tone.  She did not perceive anything but sober seriousness in her sister-in-law’s tone, and was infinitely annoyed at her taking the insinuations against De Burgh’s disinterestedness with such indifference.  “I suppose you think it would be a very fine thing to be Baroness De Burgh, and go to court with all the family jewels on.”

“I shall certainly not go as Katherine Liddell.”

“Pray, why not?  Ah, yes; it would all be very fine!  But I am too deeply interested in you, dear, not to warn you that De Burgh would make a very bad husband; he has such a horrid, sneering way sometimes; and as to being faithful—­constancy is a thing unknown to him.”