Innocent’s heart gave a wild bound; for a moment she felt a struggling sensation in her throat moving her to cry out, and it was only with a violent effort that she repressed herself.

“You’ve heard of Miss Armitage—­Ena Armitage,—­haven’t you, Blythe?” went on the Duke, garrulously.  “Of course! all the world has heard of her!”

“Indeed it has!” and Lord Blythe bowed ceremoniously.  “May I congratulate you on winning your laurels while you are young enough to enjoy them!  One moment!—­my wife is most anxious to meet you—­”

He turned to look for her, while Innocent, trembling violently, wondered desperately whether it would be possible for her to run away!—­anywhere—­anywhere, rather than endure what she knew must come!  The Duke noticed her sudden pallor with concern.

“Are you cold?” he asked—­“I hope there is no draught—–­”

“Oh no—­no!” she murmured—­“It is nothing—­”

Then she braced herself up in every nerve—­drawing her little body erect, as though a lily should lift itself to the sun—­she saw Lord Blythe approaching with a handsome woman dressed in silvery grey and wearing a coronet of emeralds—­and in one more moment looked full in the face—­of her mother!

“Lady Blythe—­Miss Armitage.”

Lady Blythe turned white to the lips.  Her dark eyes opened widely in amazement and fear—­she put out a hand as though to steady herself.  Her husband caught it, alarmed.

“Maude!  Are you ill?”

“Not at all!” and she forced a laugh.  “I am perfectly—­perfectly well!—­a little faint perhaps!  The heat, I think!  Yes—­of course!  Miss Armitage—­the famous author!  I am—­I am very proud to meet you!”

“Most kind of you!” said Innocent, quietly.

And they still looked at each other, very strangely.

The men beside them were a little embarrassed, the Duke twirled his short white moustache, and Lord Blythe glanced at his wife with some wonder and curiosity.  Both imagined, with the usual short-sightedness of the male sex, that the women had taken a sudden fantastic dislike to one another.

“By jove, she’s jealous!” thought the Duke, fully aware that Lady Blythe was occasionally “moved that way.”

“The girl seems frightened of her,” was Lord Blythe’s inward comment, knowing that his wife did not always create a sympathetic atmosphere.

But her ladyship was soon herself again and laughed quite merrily at her husband’s anxious expression.

“I’m all right—­really!” she said, with a quick, almost defiant turn of her head towards him, the emeralds in her dark hair flashing with a sinister gleam like lightning on still water.  “You must remember it’s rather overwhelming to be introduced to a famous author and think of just the right thing to say at the right moment!  Isn’t it, Miss Armitage?”

“It is as you feel,” replied Innocent, coldly.

Lady Blythe rattled on gaily.