to take their places without a word on the subject.  But the Senator had a marvellous gift of saying awkward things and would never be reticent.  He stood for a while at the window in the drawing-room before he went across the hall, and even took up a pair of field-glasses to scrutinise the lady; and when they were all present he asked whether that was not Miss Trefoil whom he had seen down by the new fence.  Lady Penwether, without seeming to look about her, did look about her for a few seconds to see whether the question might be allowed to die away unanswered.  She perceived, from the Senator’s face, that he intended to have an answer.

“Yes,” she said, “that was Miss Trefoil.  I am very glad that she is not coming in to disturb us.”

“A great blessing,” said Miss Penge.

“Where is she staying?” asked the Senator.

“I think she drove over from Rufford,” said the elder lady.

“Poor young lady!  She was engaged to marry my friend, Mr. John Morton.  She must have felt his death very bitterly.  He was an excellent young man; rather opinionated and perhaps too much wedded to the traditions of his own country; but, nevertheless, a painstaking, excellent young man.  I had hoped to welcome her as Mrs. Morton in America.”

“He was to have gone to Patagonia,” said Lord Rufford, endeavouring to come to himself after the sufferings of the morning.

“We should have seen him back in Washington, Sir.  Whenever you have anything good in diplomacy you generally send him to us.  Poor young lady!  Was she talking about him?”

“Not particularly,” said his lordship.

“She must have remembered that when she was last here he was of the party, and it was but a few weeks ago,—­only a little before Christmas.  He struck me as being cold in his manner as an affianced lover.  Was not that your idea, Lady Penwether?”

“I don’t think I observed him especially.”

“I have reason to believe that he was much attached to her.  She could be sprightly enough; but at times there seemed to come a cold melancholy upon her too.  It is I fancy so with most of your English ladies.  Miss Trefoil always gave me the idea of being a good type of the English aristocracy.”  Lady Penwether and Miss Penge drew themselves up very stiffly.  “You admired her, I think, my Lord.”

“Very much indeed,” said Lord Rufford, filling his mouth with pigeon-pie as he spoke, and not lifting his eyes from his plate.

“Will she be back to dinner?”

“Oh dear no,” said Lady Penwether.  There was something in her tone which at last startled the Senator into perceiving that Miss Trefoil was not popular at Rufford Hall.

“She only came for a morning call,” said Lord Rufford.

“Poor young woman.  She has lost her husband, and, I am afraid, now has lost her friends also.  I am told that she is not well off;—­and from what I see and hear, I fancy that here in England a young lady without a dowry cannot easily replace a lover.  I suppose, too, Miss Trefoil is not quite in her first youth.”