Her heart grew heavy as her position was thus forced back upon her by her own thoughts.  Up to the present no one had asked who she was, or where she came from—­she was understood to be an orphan, left alone in the world, who by her own genius and unaided effort had lifted herself into the front rank among the “shining lights” of the day.  This, so far, had been sufficient information for all with whom she had come in contact—­but as time went on, would not people ask more about her?—­who were her father and mother?—­where she was born?—­how she had been educated?  These inquisitorial demands were surely among the penalties of fame!  And, if she told the truth, would she not, despite the renown she had won, be lightly, even scornfully esteemed by conventional society as a “bastard” and interloper, though the manner of her birth was no fault of her own, and she was unjustly punishable for the sins of her parents, such being the wicked law!

The night of the Duchess’s reception was one of those close sultry nights of June in London when the atmosphere is well-nigh as suffocating as that of some foetid prison where criminals have been pacing their dreary round all day.  Royal Ascot was just over, and space and opportunity were given for several social entertainments to be conveniently checked off before Henley.  Outside the Duke’s great house there was a constant stream of motor-cars and taxi-cabs; a passing stranger might have imagined all the world and his wife were going to the Duchess’s “At Home.”  It was difficult to effect an entrance, but once inside, the scene was one of veritable enchantment.  The lovely hues and odours of flowers, the softened glitter of thousands of electric lamps shaded with rose-colour, the bewildering brilliancy of women’s clothes and jewels, the exquisite music pouring like a rippling stream through the magnificent reception-rooms, all combined to create a magical effect of sensuous beauty and luxury; and as Innocent, accompanied by the sweet-faced old-fashioned lady who played the part of chaperone with such gentle dignity, approached her hostess, she was a little dazzled and nervous.  Her timidity made her look all the more charming—­she had the air of a wondering child called up to receive an unexpected prize at school.  She shrank visibly when her name was shouted out in a stentorian voice by the gorgeously liveried major-domo in attendance, quite unaware that it created a thrill throughout the fashionable assemblage, and that all eyes were instantly upon her.  The Duchess, diamond-crowned and glorious in gold-embroidered tissue, kept back by a slight gesture the pressing crowd of guests, and extended her hand with marked graciousness and a delightful smile.

“Such a pleasure and honour!” she said, sweetly—­“So good of you to come!  You will give me a few words with you later on?  Yes?  Everybody will want to speak to you!—­but you must let me have a chance too!”