Miss Vernon missed her affectionate motherly attendant as she arranged her unpretending toilette for dinner. Not that she was incapable of waiting on herself; but her dressing-room had always been the scene of those confidential conversations in which Mrs. O'Toole's soul delighted. She pictured to herself her loving and beloved nurse sitting alone in some room of the busy, crowded hotel, her arms folded in her apron, rocking herself to and fro, with no one near to whom she could speak in the genuine accents of real sorrow. "My poor dear nurse, may God comfort you," murmured Kate; and then, feeling her fortitude melting away before the picture she had conjured up, she resolutely turned from it. "I have no right to damp the spirits of these friendly people with my melancholy looks." So she braided her bright hair, and smiled at her pale cheeks, which had lost the few roses they began to gather at Hampton Court: and hearing some one trying to turn the handle of the door, opened it, and admitted little Willie, with whom she descended to the drawing-room. "Well, indeed, my dear, you do not look so rosy or so bright as I would wish to see you," said Mrs. Storey, "not but that you look pretty always." "_Cela va sans dire_," interrupted Kate, smiling. "But," resumed Mrs. Storey, "what is the reason his lordship is gone to the Isle of Wight?" "Will you believe me," replied Kate, gravely and impressively, "when I assure you that I am equally ignorant of, and unaccountable for, Lord Effingham's movements." The gravity of her manner silenced her loquacious hostess, and immediately after Mr. Storey entered, accompanied by Langley. The former greeted Kate with boisterous cordiality, the latter with sincere though quiet pleasure. It was an additional trial to her, this meeting with Langley, whom she had not seen since her grandfather's death; and the contending memories which his presence recalled kept her silent, while he expressed, in his usual shy, embarrassed manner, his happiness in meeting her again. He was very taciturn at dinner, but this passed unnoticed, as the host and hostess were really a host in themselves, at least in the talking line. "I have to thank you for sending me Mr. Winter's letters so promptly," said Kate, as they sat near each other at tea. "I am very anxious for another, but do not know where to write;--and, Mr. Langley, why did you never come to see me all the time I was at Hampton Court?" Langley coloured. "I do not know Lady Desmond," he said, "and you were all too fine and gay for an obscure artist." "Gay," repeated Kate, looking at him reproachfully. "Well, too fine; I should not have felt at home there." "I should have been much pleased had you taken the trouble to pay me a visit, and Hampton Court would have delighted you; but, of course, you know it already."