And now the Countess stepped forward to Lady Jocelyn, and hoped she would not be thought impertinent in offering her opinion as to how this frantic person should be treated. The case indeed looked urgent. Many gentlemen considered themselves bound to approach and be ready in case of need. Presently the Countess passed between Sir Franks and Sir John, and with her hand put up, as if she feared the furious cane, said: “You will not strike me?” “Strike a lady, madam?” The cane and hat were simultaneously lowered. “Lady Jocelyn permits me to fetch for you a gentleman of the law. Or will you accompany me to him?” In a moment, Captain Evremonde’s manners were subdued and civilized, and in perfectly sane speech he thanked the Countess and offered her his arm. The Countess smilingly waved back Sir John, who motioned to attend on her, and away she went with the Captain, with all the glow of a woman who feels that she is heaping coals of fire on the heads of her enemies. Was she not admired now? “Upon my honour,” said Lady Jocelyn, “they are a remarkable family,” meaning the Harringtons. What farther she thought she did not say, but she was a woman who looked to natural gifts more than the gifts of accidents; and Evan’s chance stood high with her then. So the battle of the Bull-dogs was fought, and cruelly as the Countess had been assailed and wounded, she gained a victory; yea, though Demogorgon, aided by the vindictive ghost of Sir Abraham, took tangible shape in the ranks opposed to her. True, Lady Jocelyn, forgetting her own recent intrepidity, condemned her as a liar; but the fruits of the Countess’s victory were plentiful. Drummond Forth, fearful perhaps of exciting unjust suspicions in the mind of Captain Evremonde, disappeared altogether. Harry was in a mess which threw him almost upon Evan’s mercy, as will be related. And, lastly, Ferdinand Laxley, that insufferable young aristocrat, was thus spoken to by Lady Jocelyn. “This letter addressed to Lawson, telling him that his wife is here, is in your handwriting, Ferdinand. I don’t say you wrote it—I don’t think you could have written it. But, to tell you the truth, I have an unpleasant impression about it, and I think we had better shake hands and not see each other for some time.” Laxley, after one denial of his guilt, disdained to repeat it. He met her ladyship’s hand haughtily, and, bowing to Sir Franks, turned on his heel. So, then, in glorious complete victory, the battle of the Bull-dogs ended! Of the close of the pic-nic more remains to be told. For the present I pause, in observance of those rules which demand that after an exhibition of consummate deeds, time be given to the spectator to digest what has passed before him. CHAPTER XXXII. IN WHICH EVAN’S LIGHT BEGINS TO TWINKLE AGAIN