At last Lady Desmond pressed the hand that held hers so lovingly, and drawing Kate slightly to her, muttered in tones more like her own than Kate had yet heard, "leave me now, while I feel I have wronged you, ask me no more at present," and grateful even for these words Kate slowly retired. The next evening did indeed display the wonderful strength which pride can lend a mortified spirit, never had Lady Desmond played the part of a gracious graceful hostess to greater perfection; the only difference which Kate's watchful eye could detect, was a slight increase of animation in her manner, and of brilliancy in her conversation; just enough to lead careless observers to imagine that she enjoyed the prospect of her intended visit to Ireland, which with many politely expressed regrets she announced to her company. The evening glided on with more than usual agreeability, to the guests at least; the only grave faces present were Miss Vernon's and Colonel Dashwood's, he seemed quite upset by the intelligence of their approaching departure, and joined but little in the noisy and probably sincere regrets of the rest. Burton was there, he had not been a frequent guest, having been generally quartered with another detachment. "I regret to find that you are going to leave this place, Miss Vernon, just as I am about to take up my abode in it," said Burton during the loudest notes of a bravura sung by Miss Meredyth, "I have heard so much, yet I seem doomed to see so little of you." "I did not know I was so famous," replied Kate, absently. "Nor am I the only one, 'left lamenting,' by this sudden flight; look at Dashwood! then we all fear that Miss Vernon will not return from Ireland," said Burton. Kate, whose attention was fixed upon the opening door answered by a smile so palpably _distrait_, that Burton, fancying he guessed the secret of her watchfulness, smiled too as he thought of the sincere affection with which she had inspired his absent friend, and said to himself, "She would be a happier woman following Fred. on a baggage waggon, than riding over the world in that _roué_ Effingham's coronetted carriage. She does not think so at present however, _ainsi va le monde_." Here the song ended, and Miss Vernon was called on to play; she thought sadly of her yesterday's practice and its unhappy termination, and it required no small effort of self command to take her place at the piano; she played mechanically, and without her usual soul-touching expression. "Pray Lady Desmond," she heard Mrs. Meredyth ask, "can you give me any account of my nephew Effingham; will he be here this evening?" "I really do not know," replied Lady Desmond in wonderfully natural, unconstrained tones, "Miss Vernon, I fancy, saw him last; did Lord Effingham say he would come here this evening, Kate?"