Crosbie, taking a chair, sat himself between them, and in a very good-humoured tone explained the little affair of the bracelet.  “Your ladyship’s memory must have played you false,” said he, with a smile.

“My memory is very good,” said the countess; “very good indeed.  If Twitch got it, and didn’t tell me, that was not my fault.”  Twitch was her ladyship’s lady’s-maid.  Crosbie, seeing how the land lay, said nothing more about the bracelet.

After a minute or two he put out his hand to take that of Alexandrina.  They were to be married now in a week or two, and such a sign of love might have been allowed to him, even in the presence of the bride’s mother.  He did succeed in getting hold of her fingers, but found in them none of the softness of a response.  “Don’t,” said Lady Alexandrina, withdrawing her hand; and the tone of her voice as she spoke the word was not sweet to his ears.  He remembered at the moment a certain scene which took place one evening at the little bridge at Allington, and Lily’s voice, and Lily’s words, and Lily’s passion, as he caressed her:  “Oh, my love, my love, my love!”

“My dear,” said the countess, “they know how tired I am.  I wonder whether they are going to give us any tea.”  Whereupon Crosbie rang the bell, and, on resuming his chair, moved it a little farther away from his lady-love.

Presently the tea was brought to them by the housekeeper’s assistant, who did not appear to have made herself very smart for the occasion, and Crosbie thought that he was de trop.  This, however, was a mistake on his part.  As he had been admitted into the family, such little matters were no longer subject of care.  Two or three months since, the countess would have fainted at the idea of such a domestic appearing with a tea-tray before Mr Crosbie.  Now, however, she was utterly indifferent to any such consideration.  Crosbie was to be admitted into the family, thereby becoming entitled to certain privileges,—­and thereby also becoming subject to certain domestic drawbacks.  In Mrs Dale’s little household there had been no rising to grandeur; but then, also, there had never been any bathos of dirt.  Of this also Crosbie thought as he sat with his tea in his hand.

He soon, however, got himself away.  When he rose to go Alexandrina also rose, and he was permitted to press his nose against her cheekbone by way of a salute.

“Good-night, Adolphus,” said the countess, putting out her hand to him.  “But stop a minute; I know there is something I want you to do for me.  But you will look in as you go to your office to-morrow morning.”

CHAPTER XLI

Domestic Troubles

When Crosbie was making his ineffectual inquiry after Lady de Courcy’s bracelet at Lambert’s, John Eames was in the act of entering Mrs Roper’s front door in Burton Crescent.

“Oh, John, where’s Mr Cradell?” were the first words which greeted him, and they were spoken by the divine Amelia.  Now, in her usual practice of life, Amelia did not interest herself much as to the whereabouts of Mr Cradell.