Cotillion

Chapter XIV

Meanwhile, that noted Corinthian, Mr. Jack Westruther, was rapidly passing from a state of amused tolerance to one of slightly puzzled exasperation. That Kitty should cajole Mr. Standen into a counterfeit betrothal with the object of arousing jealousy in the breast of the man she really loved was something Mr. Westruther could understand, and even appreciate. That she should decline his invitations for no better alternative than a few hours spent in Dolphinton’s company was something he was very far from appreciating. She could not, he was persuaded, hope to awaken one spark of jealousy in him by such absurd tactics. He did not think so poorly of her as to suppose that she might seriously be encouraging his lordship’s advances, for he held Dolphinton in utter contempt; but a chance meeting with his cousin Biddenden, in Boodle’s Club, certainly sowed a seed of doubt in his mind.

“So Kitty Charing has a fancy to become a Countess!” said Biddenden, with a short laugh. “Well! I am not at all astonished! I’m sure I hope you are satisfied, Jack! A rare bungle you have made of it, you and Hugh between you!”

“Don’t you mean a Viscountess, George?” suggested Mr. Westruther amiably.

“No, I don’t. She’ll be Countess of Dolphinton before the year’s out, mark me! Much good may it do her!”

“Would you care to hazard a bet on the chance?”

“You’d lose!” said his lordship brutally. “You thought the girl was head over ears in love with you, didn’t you? Well, I thought it too, and nicely bubbled we have been! It’s my belief she’s a deep ‘un, and had her eye on Dolphinton from the outset.”

“I do hope, my dear George, that you mean to explain to me why, if this is so, she did not take him when she had the chance offered to her? I seem to be remarkably dull-witted today, for the reason is hid from me,” said Mr. Westruther, with unabated amiability.

“You’d know fast enough had you been at Arnside,” replied Biddenden. “The girl was in such a pet she was ready to throw a fortune to the wind, and took Freddy merely to spite the rest of us.”

“No: only to spite me!” said Mr. Westruther, laughing.

“Much you know! If Dolphinton had gone about the business like a man of sense, instead of as good as telling her he hoped she’d refuse his offer, she’d have accepted him! Good God, Jack, you never heard anything to equal it! The fellow’s as mad as Bedlam, and ought to be shut up!”

“Undoubtedly. May I know whence you culled this farradiddle? If you came to town only two days ago you have certainly been busy!”

“Oh, I had it from my Aunt Augusta!” Biddenden replied. “She is in high croak, I can tell you! And well she may be! When I think of Dolphinton’s inheriting Uncle Matthew’s fortune—Upon my soul, Jack, I had a great deal rather it was you!”

“Handsome of you!” Mr. Westruther, grinning at him.

“Ay, well, it won’t be you!” said Biddenden crossly. “You can lay your life to that! Kitty has shown her hand plainly enough. Either she meant to have Dolphinton all along, and took Freddy merely because she could scarcely accept such an offer as that idiot made her—with Hugh and me standing by, too!—or she fancied a Viscount to be as good as an Earl, until she came to town, and learned her mistake!”

“What a foolish fellow you are, George!” said Mr. Westruther gently. “Whatever else Kitty may have learnt in town, she has not learnt to think that beggarly Earldom superior to the title Freddy will inherit.”

“Very true! An Irish title, too! I would not give a groat for it myself. But an Earl is always an Earl, you know, and ten to one my aunt has stuffed the girl’s head full of nonsense about the great position she would occupy if she were to marry that dolt.” He pursed up his mouth, and sat twirling his quizzing-glass on the end of its riband. “I fancy Kitty is not the innocent we took her for,” he said, after a pause. “It occurs to me that she may very likely have come to the realization that marriage with Dolphinton would carry with it certain compensations. A complaisant husband, my dear jack, is not altogether to be despised!”

Mr. Westruther got up out of his chair. “No? But you are, George! Believe me, you are!”

Lord Biddenden flushed, and half started to his feet. Mr. Westruther, observing him with a good deal of mockery in his eyes, said: “I shouldn’t, George: really, I shouldn’t! Your credit would never survive a vulgar brawl in Boodle’s; and although I daresay you would like to plant me a facer you must know very well that it is quite beyond your power to do it.”

“Upon my word!” Biddenden said explosively. “You’re very squeamish all at once! A new come-out for you to be taking exception to a complaisant husband!”

“You mistake, George: no man sets a greater value on these gentry than I. My contempt is roused by the blubberheadedness that leads you into such gross error. Kitty had never such an idea in her mind. What a clodpole you are, dear coz! You have rusticated for too long—indeed, you have!”

He left Biddenden fuming and speechless; but although he was smiling, the seed of doubt had been sown. The suggestion that Kitty wished for a complaisant husband he was able to dismiss with as much contempt as he had shown George; a suspicion that she might succumb to the lure of a high title lingered uncomfortably. He met her at Almack’s Assembly Rooms on the following evening, claimed her hand for the boulanger, and chose to sit out the dance with her. The involuntary giggle which escaped her when he complimented her on her new conquest informed him that his suspicion had been unworthy. He said curiously: “I

wish you will tell me, my pretty one, what is this deep game you are playing?”

She turned her wide, disconcerting gaze upon him enquiringly.

“Well?” he said, holding the gaze, a challenge and a laugh in his eyes. “Such an eligible suitor as you have acquired, my dear! They tell me you are for ever in his company. I wonder that Freddy will permit it!”

She sipped her lemonade. “Freddy knows all the games I play,” she replied tranquilly.

“Does he? Poor Freddy! He has my most profound sympathy.” He took her fan from her, and spread it open. “Very pretty. Did he give it to you? I did not!”

“Oh, no! The one you gave me would not do with this dress. Though it is very pretty too, and I frequently carry it,” said Kitty, in a kind voice.

“I am honoured,” he bowed, giving it back to her. He spoke smoothly, but there was a spark of anger in his eye. The little girl who adored him was learning too many towntricks, and needed a lesson. If she imagined that he could be brought to heel by such tactics as these, it would be well for her to discover her mistake. For a cynical moment, he found himself thinking that it would really have been better for him to have swallowed his annoyance at Mr. Penicuik’s arbitrary conduct; to have gone to Arnside; and to have become formally betrothed to the heiress. He knew well that Mr. Penicuik, concerned first and last with his own comfort, would not have pressed for a speedy marriage, but would have been glad to have kept Kitty with him, safely engaged, but free to wait upon him while he had need of her services. Mr. Westruther, who never tried to deceive himself, was forced to acknowledge that Kitty’s riposte had taken him by surprise. He had been amused at first; but the more sophisticated she became the less was he pleased. Nor was her visit to London well-timed. Mr. Westruther, pursuing another quarry, found her presence at first tiresome; and, when she became acquainted with the lovely Miss Broughty, disastrous. He had done what he could to bring that friendship to an end; but although he had been easily able to inspire Meg to protest against it, he could not feel that Kitty was very likely to pay much heed to her featherbrained hostess. It was plain that such a friendship must lead to undesirable complications. Olivia seemed not to have admitted Kitty into her confidence; she would certainly do so if the acquaintance were allowed to ripen; and although Mr. Westruther had conferred no right on Kitty to censure his morals or his conduct, and was by no means averse from allowing her to see that she was not the only woman in his life, this was not the moment he would have chosen for such a disclosure as Olivia might make. “When he had found Olivia in Berkeley Square, he had been conscious of a feeling of unaccustomed annoyance. He was a man of even remper, regarding his world with an amused and a cynical eye, able nearly always to shrug away irritations with a laugh; but the discovery that Kitty had made a friend of the pretty creature on whom he was prepared to bestow everything but his name aroused real anger in his breast. He thought savagely that it was just like her; and remembered with unaffectionate clarity the many occasions when she had seemed to him to be an extremely tiresome little girl. He could almost have believed that she had done it to vex him. But that would have involved Freddy in the affair, who must have told her the truth; and although, in momentary exasperation, he had accused Freddy of this treachery, he knew that he had done his amiable cousin an injustice. He might mock at Freddy, but he was carelessly fond of him, and he knew him to be wholly incapable of making so unhandsome a gesture. The acquaintanceship had indeed sprung from a chance meeting; and for one of its unfortunate repercussions he had no one but himself to blame. It had been he who had introduced her fascinating French cousin to Kitty. Nothing, he ruefully acknowledged, could have been more natural than Kitty’s subsequent presentation of the Chevalier to her new friend.

Calling in Hans Crescent with every intention of taking Olivia out in his curricle to Richmond, he had found the Chevalier very much at home in the drawing-room, captivating Mrs. Broughty as much as her daughter. This circumstance was easily explained: everything about the Chevalier bespoke the man of birth and fortune. If his handsome face, and sweetness of manner, attracted Olivia, it was his air of affluence which made him acceptable to Mrs. Broughty. No one could have accused him of boasting of his aristocratic connections, but in his conversation he betrayed an intimate knowledge of the French world of fashion; while a passing, careless reference to his uncle, the Marquis, and another to a chateau in Auvergne, had the effect of impressing Mrs. Broughty strongly in his favour. A young Frenchman, visiting England for his pleasure, and related to the lady who was betrothed to Lord Legerwood’s eldest son, bore all the outward appearance of a desirable parti; and if he was not perhaps as wealthy as Sir Henry Gosford he was no doubt quite wealthy enough to come to agreeable terms with Olivia’s Mama.

But Mr. Westruther, ushered into the drawing-room, and dominating the company with his height, and his air of easy assurance, received a sufficiently warm welcome from Mrs. Broughty. She stood a little in awe of him; she was flattered by his attentions to her daughter, for although she might be in some doubt of the Chevalier’s position she had no doubt at all of Mr. Westruther’s. He was an acknowledged leader of fashion; he belonged to that select world which haughtily refused to admit her into its ranks; and he was so much petted and courted that to have won his favour was a triumph for any lady. She was uncertain of only two circumstances: the size of his fortune, and the precise nature of his intentions. Mr. Westruther, well-aware of this, made no effort to enlighten her on either point, the first of which, he guessed, was the one of paramount importance. Mr. Westruther had his own notion of the circumstances under which the enterprising lady had induced the late Oliver Broughty to marry her; and he did not suppose that she would scruple to sell any of her daughters into elegant prostitution, provided that the price offered were high enough. Probably she would prefer to marry Olivia to the aged Sir Henry Gosford; but if Olivia were to prove intractable it was not likely that her Mama would repulse other, less respectable, offers. Not that Mr. Westruther had the smallest intention of negotiating any kind of bargain with a woman whom he comprehensively despised. He found Olivia enchanting, but he wanted no unwilling mistress. He was not the only man casting out lures to the lovely creature, but until he found the Chevalier ensconced in the drawing— room in Hans Crescent he knew himself to be without serious rival.

He paused for a moment on the threshold, raising his quizzing-glass, smiling at Olivia, raising an eyebrow at the Chevalier, sweeping Mrs. Broughty with the indulgent, mocking glance which both enraged and impressed her. “Ma’am!” He made his bow to Mrs. Broughty. “Your very obedient! Miss Broughty, your slave! Chevalier!” A nod sufficed for the Chevalier, but when Olivia held out her hand he took it, and held it, saying laughingly: “ ‘Most radiant, exquisite, and xmmatchable beauty,’ can I persuade you to drive out with me?”

Miss Charing, had she been present, would undoubtedly have been able to have supplied Olivia with the context of these mock-heroics; Olivia, by far less well-read, was cast into adorable confusion, looking at once flattered and frightened, and murmured: “Oh, pray—! How foolish of you! It is so very obliging of you, but it is not in my power to accept! We are in the expectation of receiving friends.”

“Alas!” he said lightly. “My luck is quite out. Shall I go away at once, or may I sit with you for a few minutes?”

Mrs. Broughty, crying out against the suggestion that he should depart, pressed him to take refreshment. He declined it, but sat down, stayed talking lazily for a quarter of an hour, and then rose, saying that he must no longer keep his horses standing. “How came you here, d’Evron? Can I offer you a seat in my curricle? You have not set up your own carriage, I fancy?”

“No; it seems not worth the pain. In general, I hire a vehicle; today I came here in what I am informed I must call a hack. I have that correctly?”

“Oh, perfectly! Your command of the English tongue compels one’s admiration. If you came in a hack, you must certainly allow me to convey you back to Duke Street. Farewell, sovereign cruelty! I shall hope for better fortune the next time I come to visit you!”

The Chevalier, perceiving that Mr. Westruther had no intention of leaving him in possession of the field, submitted gracefully, bowed over the ladies’ hands, and accompanied his ruthless benefactor out into the street. A compliment to Mr. Westruther on his horses was indifferently received, and failed to divert him from his purpose. “Yes, a match pair,” he replied. “And how have you been going on since I last saw you, my dear d’Evron? You contrive to amuse yourself tolerably well in London?”

“Indeed, I shall not know how to tear myself away! I have met with such kindness, and feel myself quite at home in consequence.”

“Your charm of manner has swept all before it,” said Mr. Westruther. “I am for ever being asked who is my delightful French acquaintance, and where he comes from.”

“Ah, this is some of the taquinerie for which you are famous, I think!”

“Not at all. I am sure the friends you have made in England are legion. Now, who was it who wished to know only the other day where you had hidden yourself? Hoped you had not fallen a victim to the influenza—Yes, of course! it was Lady Maria Yalding! To have made such a conquest as that is something indeed!”

“I cannot flatter myself so grossly,” responded the Chevalier quietly. “But you remind me of my obligations, sir: Lady Maria has been most kind, and I must not neglect her.”

“Just so,” agreed Mr. Westruther. “One sees the temptation, of course, but it would be folly not to withstand it.”

“I understand you, I suppose,” the Chevalier said after a moment, and in a mortified tone.

“I feel sure you do: so quick-witted, you Frenchmen! You must forgive my meddling: since I had the pleasure of bringing you and your cousin together I must think myself in some sort responsible for you. I should dislike excessively to see you tumble into one of the pitfalls with which society is so amply provided. Always so difficult for a foreigner to recognize them, isn’t it?”

“Do you mean to indicate, sir, that we have just left one of these pitfalls?” asked the Chevalier, taking the bull by the horns.

“Why, yes!” said Mr. Westruther, pulling up for the turnpike. “Charming, of course—quite the most ravishingly lovely little ladybird in town!—but no fortune, my dear d’Evron, and a mother who is a veritable harpy!”

“I am aware.”

“Naturally. She should have been an Abbess—ah, an entremetteuse, Chevalier! The fair Olivia is for sale to the highest bidder.”

“Sir Henry Gosford? The thought revolts!”

The pike was open, and Mr. Westruther set his pair in motion again, keeping them rigidly to a sedate pace, unusual in him. “Gosford, if Olivia will have him,” he agreed. “He is wealthy—a matter of primary importance to Mrs. Broughty; and he is besotted enough to offer marriage—not, I fancy, so important, but still desirable.”

“You appal me!” the Chevalier exclaimed. “It cannot be that the woman would allow that beautiful innocent to become a man’s mistress!”

Mr. Westruther laughed softly. “Unless I miss my bet, d’Evron, Mrs. Broughty, until she entrapped the late Broughty into marriage, was herself what we call a prime article—of Covent Garden notoriety, you know! I should suppose that that way of life may not appear to her so undesirable as it seems to appear to you.”

“Horrible! It is horrible to think of such a thing in connection with that girl!” the Chevalier said vehemently.

“My dear young friend, are you picturing the fair Olivia in the Magdalen?” said Mr. Westruther, with a touch of impatience. “There is not the least reason to suppose that she would not enjoy a varied and a luxurious career, and, in all probability, end her days in a state of considerable affluence. We do not all of us cast our mistresses naked upon the world, you know!”

“Sir!” said the Chevalier, trying to control his agitation. “You have been frank! I shall ask you to pardon me if I too speak without restraint! Is it thus that you desire mademoiselle?”

“It is certainly not as my wife,” replied Mr. Westruther, rather haughtily.

“I would do all within my power to prevent it!”

A slight smile crossed Mr. Westruther’s face. “But, then, there is really so little within your power, is there? If I were you—and this is the friendliest advice I can give you!—I would strive to forget Olivia, and continue to besiege Lady Maria’s citadel. I wish you very well at that, and will engage not to cast the least rub in your way. But you must not trespass upon my ground, you know. Not the smallest good can come of it, I do assure you. I am persuaded you did not come to London with the intention of marrying a penniless girl. Nor do I think you have sufficiently appreciated the determination of Mrs. Broughty. Perhaps you have no objection to the enquiries she will certainly make into your precise circumstances; but do, my dear d’Evron, consider what might be the consequences if some malicious person were to breathe into the lady’s ear a doubt—just a doubt!”

The Frenchman stiffened, and paused for a moment before replying: “In effect, you are offensive, sir!”

“Oh, no, no!” Mr. Westruther said gently. “You mistake!”

“I must believe you to be my enemy!”

“Again you mistake. I am sufficiently—how shall I put it?—an dme de bouei—to derive considerable enjoyment from watching your progress, Chevalier! It commands my admiration. Indeed, I should be sorry to see it blighted, and I wish you all success with the Yalding. There will be certain difficulties, of course, but she is both headstrong and obstinate, while you are adroit, and I am persuaded you will overcome them, carrying her off, as it were, in Annerwick’s teeth. That will afford quite a number of persons enjoyment. You are not acquainted with Lady Maria’s papa? You are to be felicitated: an unlovable man! And here we are at Duke Street!”

“I must thank you, sir, for bringing me here!” said the Chevalier formally, preparing to alight.

“A pleasure, believe me!” smiled Mr. Westruther. “Au revoir, my dear sir!”

Two days later, when driving Kitty in the Park, at the fashionable hour, he was able to observe the fruits of his encounter with her cousin. London was still a little thin of company, but the unusually clement weather, which had brought the hunting season to an early close, had tempted many to return to town. Quite a number of notabilities were to be seen, riding or driving in the Park, and Kitty was kept very well-entertained by Mr. Westruther’s pithy descriptions of their identities, their manners, and their foibles. It was when they were approaching the Riding House on their second circuit that they met Lady Maria Yalding’s barouche. A press of vehicles had brought both the barouche and the curricle momentarily to a standstill, and they stood alongside each other for long enough for the occupants of each to have time for recognition, and greetings. Beside Lady Maria’s buxom form, splendidly attired in purple, above which her high-coloured face rose triumphant, sat the Chevalier, listening with an air of absorbed interest to what she was saying. Upon the lady’s hailing Mr. Westruther in her bluff, rather loud-voiced way, he glanced up quickly, met Mr.

Westruther’s eyes, and at once turned his attention to Kitty, saying, as he took off his hat, and sketched a bow: “Ah, well met, my dear cousin! I do not know, Lady Maria, if you are acquainted with Miss Charing?”

The protuberant eyes stared at Kitty. Lady Maria said: “Oh, yes! Met you somewhere, I believe, Miss Charing. Staying with Lady Buckhaven, aren’t you? Lovely weather, isn’t it? I say, Westruther, do you see the Angleseys are back in town? Just met Anglesey, with his girls. My dear Camille, what is holding us up for so long? Some fool trying to lionize, I daresay, with a badly broke horse! Oh, now we are off! Goodbye! Happy to meet you again some day, Miss— can’t remember names!”

Mr. Westruther allowed his pair to have their heads a little, and as they were on the fret Kitty was whisked off before she could reply to this brusque speech. She said, in a tone of strong displeasure: “What very odd manners, to be sure!”

“You need not regard her: all the Annerwicks are famed for their rudeness,” responded Mr. Westruther. “They are convinced, you see, that they are vastly superior to the rest of mankind, and so have no need to waste civility.”

“I am astonished that Camille should be so often in her company,” Kitty remarked, wrinkling her brow. “He escorted her to the play last night, you know: I saw him, for I was there with Freddy, and the Legerwoods. It is quite impossible that he should like her! But they must be upon excessively friendly terms for her to call him Camille in that odious way! It doesn’t seem to me at all the thing.”

“It should perhaps be explained to you that Lady Maria is a very rich woman.”

“That is what Freddy said, but I will not allow it to be true that Camille is a fortune-hunter!”

He was amused. “What a high flight!”

“It is odious, Jack! Surely you must perceive that!”

“Not at all. Think of the offers you yourself received when it became known you were an heiress!”

She coloured. “Indeed, I thought them odious too!”

“Dear me! Even Freddy’s?”

She knew not how to reply to this; and, after a moment, said rather lamely: “He did not offer for that reason.”

“Or at all?” suggested Mr. Westruther.

She put up her chin. “Of course! You may ask George and Hugh if you don’t believe me! They were both present! Besides—what an absurd thing to say! Pray, how could I be engaged to him if he had not offered for me?”

“Well, you might have offered for him,” said Mr. Westruther thoughtfully.

She was now very much flushed, and answered with some difficulty: “I wish you will not talk such nonsense!”

“And I wish that you would stop behaving so nonsensically, foolish child! Freddy, indeed! As well ask me to believe that you mean to marry Dolphinton!”

Her eyes flashed. “How dare you say such a thing, Jack? To compare Freddy with poor Dolph—! It is the most infamous thing, and I won’t endure it!”

His brows rose. “But what heat! It does you the greatest credit, my dear, but it is quite uncalled for. I intended no comparison: merely the one is as unlikely a suitor as the other. Am I forgiven?”

“I am sure it is of no consequence,” she said stiffly. “Oh, there is Miss Broughty, walking with her cousins! Pray, will you pull up for a moment?”

“No,” he said. “I have no wish to talk to Miss Broughty, or her deplorable cousins, and I would advise you, my love, to be a little more careful what friends you make, in London. This connection cannot add to your credit, believe me!”

“I have no patience with such stupid pride!” she said. “It is all folly and self-consequence!”

He glanced down at her, a glint in his eye. “You are becoming remarkably hot at hand, my child, are you not? No: Freddy is decidedly not the man to control your spurts! However, don’t let us quarrel! I want to talk to you of quite another matter. Have you had any news lately from Arnside?”

She turned her head, surprised. “Why, yes! Fish writes to me every week!”

“Have you any notion that all is not well there?”

“Not the least in the world!” she replied. “To be sure, poor Fish could do nothing but bemoan her lot at first, but she is such a good creature she has made the best of it, and, indeed, is not, I think, managing so very ill. Uncle Matthew’s gout is less painful, which must make it not so disagreeable for Fish. Why should you suppose something is amiss?”

“Merely that I have had no word from him. In general, he is a regular correspondent of mine, as you may know. However, I daresay I am in disgrace with him.”

She knew that this was true, but said nothing. Mr. Westruther turned his head, and she saw that his eyes were laughing again. “For not obeying his peremptory summons,” he explained.

“He did not quite like it, perhaps,” she acknowledged. “He has the oddest notions! For my part, I was thankful that you did not come. I knew you would not, of course.”

“Why, yes, I imagine you might,” he said. She looked up quickly, and he added, smiling: “I never supposed, Kitty, that you would wish me to offer for you at my granduncle’s bidding.”

“Most certainly not!”

“Like Dolphinton, and Hugh—and not like Freddy,” he said. “I, too, have the oddest notions, and one of them is that I will be neither bribed nor coerced into a proposal of marriage. Really, I think my uncle should have known me better. You too, dear Kitty.”

“I knew you very well indeed, and I never thought you would come!”

“You did not know me at all, my child, or you would not be in London today,” he replied calmly.

It was fortunate, since she was at a loss for an answer, that a diversion was just then created. Kitty perceived Lady Legerwood’s barouche, and desired Mr. Westruther to pull up. He drew up alongside the barouche; greetings were exchanged, enquiries made after the progress of the convalescents; and by the time the curricle was again in motion the awkward moment had passed, and Kitty was able, quite naturally, to inaugurate a different topic of conversation. Mr. Westruther permitted this; but when they drove out of the Park presently he referred again to his great-uncle. “In spite of this very gratifying intelligence, that his gout is paining him less, I find I cannot be entirely easy in my mind,” he said. “However, I collect that you will shortly be returning to Arnside?”

“I? No!” Kitty said.

He looked down at her, slightly frowning. “Surely you informed me that you had come to town for one month?”

“Why, yes! But Meg has so very kindly invited me to remain with her for the present that I need not go home again. With little Edmund still so poorly, and Lady Legerwood being determined to take him to the seaside, Meg is quite in a fix. for she says that Margate always make her bilious, besides being shockingly flat at this season. So I am to remain, to bear her company, which is a piece of great good fortune for me.”

“Does my uncle give his consent to this?” he demanded.

“Yes, and I believe I have to thank my dear, good Fish for it! Only fancy, Jack! Actually she persuaded him to send me a draft for twenty-five pounds! His gout must be very much better, I think: Fish says it is all due to a remedy which she discovered in some old household book! At all events, I was never more grateful for anything, because although Freddy is for ever begging me to let him be my banker, that I will not do!”

“You astonish me!” he said sardonically. “I had supposed him to have been franking you all this while.”

“No, indeed!” she cried. “How could you think such a thing? Uncle Matthew bestowed a very handsome sum on me, upon my betrothal!”

“Handsome indeed, if it has paid for all your finery, my dear!” he said dryly. He saw that she was looking startled, and laughed. “Never mind! But I wish you will go back to Arnside, Kitty. I believe you have been guilty of a great piece of folly in leaving my uncle in this way.”

They had reached Lady Buckhaven’s house by this time, and Kitty was preparing to alight from the curricle. She paused. “Nonsense! Why did you laugh like that? It is true that Freddy has paid all my bills, but he has done it with the money Uncle Matthew gave me for the purpose!”

“Oh, is that how it has been?” said Mr. Westruther ;ravely. “I begin to think I have underrated Freddy!”