Mrs. O’Hara was about the last person Lady Gwendolyn would have cared to meet; moreover, she knew her to be a frivolous, pleasure-seeking woman, whose influence would be very bad for Lady Teignmouth. Hitherto Pauline had professed to dislike the Irish widow, but finding themselves together in a country house, they were sure to do one of two things, either quarrel desperately, or strike up a violent friendship. And Gwendolyn, who had her brother’s honor and happiness so much at heart, knew that this latter would be fatal, indeed. She stepped back and bowed coldly, but Mrs. O’Hara was not to be repressed. She held out her hand with great cordiality. “I am so delighted to meet you again, dear Lady Gwendolyn. I hear you were quite the belle of last night’s ball. I meant to be here myself, but I provokingly missed the train at Carlisle, and had to wait there six hours, so that I am just a day after the fair. I find that Lady Teignmouth is staying here,” she added, without giving herself time to take breath, “and I am so delighted! George Belmont always praises her so much, I am quite anxious to improve our acquaintance.” Lady Gwendolyn shivered convulsively. “Mr. Belmont is a friend of yours, then?” she asked faintly. “He is only my brother, but we are excellent friends, which is rather rare among near relatives. He has just come into a nice little property in Ireland, and I hope he will take a wife and settle down. I don’t mind telling you, he has knocked about the world a good deal in his time, and the money was very acceptable; and, what do you think?” she went on impulsively; “directly he heard of his uncle’s death, he promised to settle a little matter that he knew was bothering me a good deal.” Lady Gwendolyn had not much sympathy, as a rule, with people who confided in the first comer; still, she could not help feeling for Mrs. O’Hara at this moment, and sympathizing with the tears of grateful feeling in her big black eyes. Mr. Belmont might not be a very estimable man, but he had been kind to his sister, evidently; and she must needs grieve for him indeed when she learned the manner of his death, which would be worse to bear than the death itself. She had half a mind to give her a hint that would prepare her for what was coming, and was trying to pick out words that would be a warning and not a revelation, when Mrs. O’Hara caught sight of a masculine figure at the end of the hall, and darted off precipitately. Her bold laugh followed Lady Gwendolyn into the garden and sharpened her mood. Somehow, she thought now that Mrs. O’Hara would get over her trouble very easily, and only hoped it would take her away from Bridgton Hall before she had had time to do any mischief. She felt so weary and sick at heart she could have sat down in the hedge and let all the winds of heaven beat upon her, if she could only feel sure that they would beat this miserable life out of her, and give her rest.