On the departure of their visitors Bessie mentioned that Lord Lambeth would come the next day, to go with them to the Tower, and that he had kindly offered to bring his “trap” and drive them all through the city. Mrs. Westgate listened in silence to this news and for some time afterwards also said nothing. But at last, “If you hadn’t requested me the other day not to speak of it,” she began, “there’s something I’d make bold to ask you.” Bessie frowned a little; her dark blue eyes grew more dark than blue. But her sister went on. “As it is I’ll take the risk. You’re not in love with Lord Lambeth: I believe it perfectly. Very good. But is there by chance any danger of your becoming so? It’s a very simple question—don’t take offence. I’ve a particular reason,” said Mrs. Westgate, “for wanting to know.” Bessie for some moments said nothing; she only looked displeased. “No; there’s no danger,” she at last answered with a certain dryness. “Then I should like to frighten them!” cried her sister, clasping jewelled hands. “To frighten whom?” “All these people. Lord Lambeth’s family and friends.” The girl wondered. “How should you frighten them?” “It wouldn’t be I—it would be you. It would frighten them to suppose you holding in thrall his lordship’s young affections.” Our young lady, her clear eyes still overshadowed by her dark brows, continued to examine it. “Why should that frighten them?” Mrs. Westgate winged her shaft with a smile before launching it. “Because they think you’re not good enough. You’re a charming girl, beautiful and amiable, intelligent and clever, and as _bien-élevée_ as it is possible to be; but you’re not a fit match for Lord Lambeth.” Bessie showed again a coldness. “Where do you get such extraordinary ideas? You’ve said some such odd things lately. My dear Kitty, where do you collect them?” But Kitty, unabashed, held to her idea. “Yes, it would put them on pins and needles, and it wouldn’t hurt you. Mr. Beaumont’s already most uneasy. I could soon see that.” The girl turned it over. “Do you mean they spy on him, that they interfere with him?” “I don’t know what power they have to interfere, but I know that a British _materfamilias_—and when she’s a Duchess into the bargain—is often a force to be reckoned with.” It has already been intimated that before certain appearances of strange or sinister cast our young woman was apt to shy off into scepticism. She abstained on the present occasion from expressing disbelief, for she wished not to irritate her sister. But she said to herself that Kitty had been misinformed—that this was a traveller’s tale. Though she was a girl of quick imagination there could in the nature of things be no truth for her in the attribution to her of a vulgar identity. Only the form she gave her doubt was: “I must say that in that case I’m very sorry for Lord Lambeth.”