“The effect of a good fit.  I wish you would employ my dressmaker.  She is very moderate.”

“Is she?”

A short discussion of prices followed, and Mrs. Ormonde declared she would call on Miss Trant that very afternoon and bespeak two dresses, for all she had were quite familiar to the eyes of her associates.

“I suppose you have heard or seen nothing of De Burgh lately?” exclaimed Mrs. Ormonde, suddenly.

“No, not for a long time.”

“He has been away—­somewhere in Hungary, hunting or shooting—­and then he has been staying with old Lord de Burgh.  They used hardly to speak, and now he seems taken into favor.  He is a curious sort of man, and he can be so insolent!  How he will put his foot on people’s necks when he gets the old man’s title and wealth!”

“If they let him,” said Katherine, quietly.

“As he is in town, I thought he might have called on you.  He was always running down to that stupid place in the summer, so I——­”

“Mr. De Burgh!” said a waiter, opening the door with a burst.

“Talk of an angel!” cried Mrs. Ormonde, rising to receive him with a welcoming smile.  “My sister was just saying it was a long time since she had seen you.”

Katherine felt annoyed at the thoughtless speech—­if it was thoughtless.  However, she kept a composed air, though the varying color which she never could regulate told De Burgh that she was not unmoved.

“And probably hoped it would be longer,” he replied, as he shook hands with Mrs. Ormonde, but only bowed to Miss Liddell.

“Don’t answer him,” cried the former; “such decided fishing does not deserve success.”

“I will not,” said Katherine, with a kind smile.  She was too thorough a woman not to have a soft corner in her heart for the man who had professed, with so convincing an air of sincerity, to love her with all his heart.

It did not, however, seem to please or displease him, for he sat down beside the tea-table with his usual unaffected ease, and addressed his conversation to Mrs. Ormonde.

“Just heard from Carew that you were in town, and I have only escaped from Pontygarvan, where I have been playing the dutiful kinsman to my immortal relative.  I don’t know which is most to be avoided, his enmity or his liking.  He is an amusing old cynic at times, but a born despot.  He only let me away to prosecute a scheme that he has taken up, and which I have gone pretty deeply into myself.”

“Indeed!” exclaimed Mrs. Ormonde, handing him some tea.  “Have you turned promoter, or—­”

“Well, I am going to be my own promoter; time only will show how I’ll succeed.  You must both give me your best wishes.”

“I am sure I do,” said Mrs. Ormonde.

De Burgh raised his eyes slowly to Katherine’s.  She had not spoken.  “Don’t you wish me success?  No; I thought you didn’t.”

“I wish you all possible happiness,” she said, in a low tone.