‘But I do think,’ observed the Countess, ’it must indeed be pernicious for any youth to associate with that class of woman.  A deterioration of manners!’

Rose looked at her mother again.  She thought ’Those girls would scorn to marry a tradesman’s son!’

The feeling grew in Rose that the Countess lowered and degraded her.  Her mother’s calm contemplation of the lady was more distressing than if she had expressed the contempt Rose was certain, according to her young ideas, Lady Jocelyn must hold.

Now the Countess had been considering that she would like to have a word or two with Mr. Harry, and kissing her fingers to the occupants of Olympus, and fixing her fancy on the diverse thoughts of the ladies and gentlemen, deduced from a rapturous or critical contemplation of her figure from behind, she descended the slope.

Was it going to be a happy day?  The well-imagined opinions of the gentleman on her attire and style, made her lean to the affirmative; but Rose’s demure behaviour, and something—­something would come across her hopes.  She had, as she now said to herself, stopped for the pic-nic, mainly to give Caroline a last opportunity of binding the Duke to visit the Cogglesby saloons in London.  Let Caroline cleverly contrive this, as she might, without any compromise, and the stay at Beckley Court would be a great gain.  Yes, Caroline was still with the Duke; they were talking earnestly.  The Countess breathed a short appeal to Providence that Caroline might not prove a fool.  Overnight she had said to Caroline:  ’Do not be so English.  Can one not enjoy friendship with a nobleman without wounding one’s conscience or breaking with the world?  My dear, the Duke visiting you, you cow that infamous Strike of yours.  He will be utterly obsequious!  I am not telling you to pass the line.  The contrary.  But we continentals have our grievous reputation because we dare to meet as intellectual beings, and defy the imputation that ladies and gentlemen are no better than animals.’

It sounded very lofty to Caroline, who, accepting its sincerity, replied: 

’I cannot do things by halves.  I cannot live a life of deceit.  A life of misery—­not deceit.’

Whereupon, pitying her poor English nature, the Countess gave her advice, and this advice she now implored her familiars to instruct or compel Caroline to follow.

The Countess’s garment was plucked at.  She beheld little Dorothy Loring glancing up at her with the roguish timidity of her years.

‘May I come with you?’ asked the little maid, and went off into a prattle:  ’I spent that five shillings—­I bought a shilling’s worth of sweet stuff, and nine penn’orth of twine, and a shilling for small wax candles to light in my room when I’m going to bed, because I like plenty of light by the looking-glass always, and they do make the room so hot!  My Jane declared she almost fainted, but I burnt them out!  Then I