The hour was now eleven, and the Countess thought it full time to retire to her entrenchment in Mrs. Bonner’s chamber.  She had great things still to do:  vast designs were in her hand awaiting the sanction of Providence.  Alas! that little idle promenade was soon to be repented.  She had joined her sister, thinking it safer to have her upstairs till they were quit of Evan.  The Duke and the diplomatist loitering in the rear, these two fair women sailed across the lawn, conscious, doubtless, over all their sorrows and schemes, of the freight of beauty they carried.

What meant that gathering on the steps?  It was fortuitous, like everything destined to confound us.  There stood Lady Jocelyn with Andrew, fretting his pate.  Harry leant against a pillar, Miss Carrington, Mrs. Shorne, and Mrs. Melville, supported by Mr. George Uplift, held watchfully by.  Juliana, with Master Alec and Miss Dorothy, were in the background.

Why did our General see herself cut off from her stronghold, as by a hostile band?  She saw it by that sombre light in Juliana’s eyes, which had shown its ominous gleam whenever disasters were on the point of unfolding.

Turning to Caroline, she said:  ‘Is there a back way?’

Too late!  Andrew called.

‘Come along, Louisa, Just time, and no more.  Carry, are you packed?’

This in reality was the first note of the retreat from Beckley; and having blown it, the hideous little trumpeter burst into scarlet perspirations, mumbling to Lady Jocelyn:  ’Now, my lady, mind you stand by me.’

The Countess walked straight up to him.

’Dear Andrew! this sun is too powerful for you.  I beg you, withdraw into the shade of the house.’

She was about to help him with all her gentleness.

’Yes, yes.  All right, Louisa rejoined Andrew.  ’Come, go and pack.  The fly ’ll be here, you know—­too late for the coach, if you don’t mind, my lass.  Ain’t you packed yet?’

The horrible fascination of vulgarity impelled the wretched lady to answer:  ‘Are we herrings?’ And then she laughed, but without any accompaniment.

‘I am now going to dear Mrs. Bonner,’ she said, with a tender glance at Lady Jocelyn.

‘My mother is sleeping,’ her ladyship remarked.

‘Come, Carry, my darling!’ cried Andrew.

Caroline looked at her sister.  The Countess divined Andrew’s shameful trap.

‘I was under an engagement to go and canvass this afternoon,’ she said.

‘Why, my dear Louisa, we’ve settled that in here this morning,’ said Andrew.  ’Old Tom only stuck up a puppet to play with.  We’ve knocked him over, and march in victorious—­eh, my lady?’

‘Oh!’ exclaimed the Countess, ’if Mr. Raikes shall indeed have listened to my inducements!’

‘Deuce a bit of inducements!’ returned Andrew.  ’The fellow’s ashamed of himself-ha! ha!  Now then, Louisa.’