‘But, my dear Lady Harriet,’ said Mrs. Gibson, a little puzzled as to the exact meaning of the words that were trembling on her tongue, ’I am sure you thought that you meant what you said, when you said it.’  ‘No, I didn’t,’ put in Lady Harriet.

’And besides, if you didn’t, it was the fault of the tiresome people who drove you into such straits—­yes, it was certainly their fault, not yours—­and then you know the conventions of society—­ah, what trammels they are!’

Lady Harriet was silent for a minute or two; then she said,—­’Tell me, Clare; you’ve told lies sometimes, haven’t you?’

’Lady Harriet!  I think you might have known me better; but I know you don’t mean it, dear.’

’Yes, I do.  You must have told white lies, at any rate.  How did you feel after them?’

’I should have been miserable if I ever had.  I should have died of self-reproach.  “The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth,” has always seemed to me such a fine passage.  But then I have so much that is unbending in my nature, and in our sphere of life there are so few temptations.  If we are humble, we are also simple, and unshackled by etiquette.’

’Then you blame me very much?  If somebody else will blame me, I shan’t be so unhappy at what I said this morning.’

’I am sure I never blamed you, not in my innermost heart, dear Lady Harriet.  Blame you, indeed!  That would be presumption in me.’

’I think I shall set up a confessor! and it shan’t be you, Clare, for you have always been only too indulgent to me.’

After a pause she said,—­’Can you give me some lunch, Clare?  I don’t mean to go home till three.  My “business” will take me till then, as the people at the Towers are duly informed.’

’Certainly.  I shall be delighted! but you know we are very simple in our habits.’

’Oh, I only want a little bread and butter, and perhaps a slice of cold meat—­you must not give yourself any trouble, Clare—­perhaps you dine now? let me sit down just like one of your family.’

’Yes, you shall; I won’t make any alteration;—­it will be so pleasant to have you sharing our family meal, dear Lady Harriet.  But we dine late, we only lunch now.  How low the fire is getting; I really am forgetting everything in the pleasure of this tete-a-tete!’

So she rang twice; with great distinctness, and with a long pause between the rings.  Maria brought in coals.

But the signal was as well understood by Cynthia as the ’Hall of Apollo’ was by the servants of Lucullus.  The brace of partridges that were to have been for the late dinner were instantly put down to the fire; and the prettiest china put out, and the table decked with flowers and fruit, arranged with all Cynthia’s usual dexterity and taste.  So that when the meal was announced, and Lady Harriet entered the room, she could not but think her hostess’s apologies had been quite unnecessary; and be more