"I think I have a friend of yours here to-day, my dear lady!" he said with an expressive chuckle--"Someone who is most anxious to see you!" And escorting her with obtrusive gallantry into the hall, he brought her face to face with a tall, elegant, languid-looking man who bowed profoundly; "I believe you know Lord Roxmouth?" The blood sprang to her brows,--and for a moment she was so startled and angry that she could scarcely breathe. A swift glance from under her long lashes showed her the situation--how Mrs. Bludlip Courtenay was watching her with ill-concealed amusement, and how all the rest of the party were expectant of a 'sensation.' She saw it all in a moment,--she recognised that a trap had been laid for her to fall into unwarily, and realising the position she rose to it at once. "How do you do!" she said carelessly, nodding ner head without giving her hand--"I thought I should meet you this afternoon!" "Did you really!" murmured Roxmouth--"Some magnetic current of thought---" "Yes,--'by the pricking of my thumbs, Something wicked this way comes!'--THAT sort of sensation, you know!" and she laughed; then perceiving a man standing in the background whose sleek form and lineaments she instantly recognised, she added--"And how are you, Mr. Longford? Did you bring Lord Roxmouth here, or did he bring you?" Marius Longford, 'of the Savage and Savile,' was taken by surprise, and looked a little uncomfortable. He stroked one pussy whisker. "We came together," he explained in his affected falsetto voice-- "Sir Morton Pippitt was good enough to invite me to bring any friend,--and so--" "I see!" and Maryllia lifted her little head with an unconscious gesture, implying pride, or disdain, or both, as she passed with the other guests into the Badsworth Hall drawing-room; "The country is so delightful at this time of year!" She moved on. Lord Roxmouth stroked down his fair moustache to hide a smile, and quietly followed her. He was a good-looking man, tall and well-built, with a rather pale, clean-cut face, and sandy hair brushed very smooth; form and respectability were expressed in the very outline of his figure and the fastidious neatness and nicety of his clothes. Entering the room where Miss Tabitha Pippitt was solemnly presiding over the tea-tray with a touch-me-not air of inflexible propriety, he soon made himself the useful and agreeable centre of a group of ladies, to whom he carried cake, bread-and- butter and other light refreshments, with punctilious care, looking as though his life depended upon the exact performance of these duties. Once or twice he glanced at Maryllia, and decided that she appeared younger and prettier than when he had seen her in town. She was chatting with some of the country people, and Lord Roxmouth waited for several moments in vain for an opportunity to intervene. Finally, securing a cup of iced coffee, he carried it to her. "No, thanks!" she said, as he approached.