"There, in that banishmint we wor in, at that onlooky Bayswather, whin he wanted me to take the note to ye." "Why, dear nurse, you do not mean to--Oh, yes, now I recollect, I thought his face and voice were familiar to me. I was dull, very dull, not to notice it before; he is the same person who spoke to me in Kensington Gardens." "An' did he spake to ye to-day, jewil?" "Yes; and now I remember, he seemed embarrassed; it is curious; perhaps I ought to mention it to Georgina; yet, no, it would be useless; he amuses her now; and she is just the person who would resent such conduct, warmly. No, I am but a sorry companion as it is; but I will interfere with her amusement as little as I can." "Faith, ye'r in the right iv it, Miss Kate; for all Lady Desmond loves ye, she loves her own way betther nor all the world itself." "Hush, hush, you must not speak in that way of our kind, good friend, nurse." "Well, well, it's thruth I'm tellin' ye; an' see, jewil, ye'll think it quare to be spakin' cool an' asy to that thief iv the world, though he looks like a prence, an' rides like a king." "Queer! Oh, no, I feel as if that adventure happened years ago; that I have grown old and dispassionate since. Then he will never notice me, when Georgy is there; at least, not much; and, I confess, I feel pleased that he should meet me, in my natural position; but his presence, and the memories it calls up, will never be very welcome to me, now especially." "Well, we'll see, there's the divil's own timper in thim fiery eyes iv his. I'll go bail he's a dead shot with the pistils." "Very likely; but there is the dinner bell." Lady Desmond was thoughtful and _distrait_; that evening; she spoke little of Lord Effingham, and only conversed by an effort. After tea, she entreated Kate, who had already recommenced her practising, to sing some of the airs she had been arranging previous to her grandfather's death; and Kate, anxious to conquer the repugnance she had felt of late to her favourite occupation, complied, till the tears pouring down her cheeks interrupted her. "Dearest, forgive me," cried Lady Desmond, roused from her thoughts by the sudden cessation of the music, and flying to her side, "how selfish, how thoughtless I am," and winding her arm round Kate's waist, drew her to the window, through which the moonlight streamed, and the breeze wafted a thousand perfumes. They stood there a few moments in silence, till Kate, recovering her composure, pressed a kiss upon her cousin's cheek. Lady Desmond started, and a sudden tremor ran through her frame. "You are cold, dear Georgy? come from the window." "Oh, no, no! I wish I was cold and calm! Ah, Kate, I am not happy! I would fain change with you!" "With me! surely not with one so lonely and----."