"Well now, Margaret, what was it? This is the second time of asking. Beware of the third." "I have told you, dear Harriet," said Margaret. "I was not well when I came. I felt wretchedly all yesterday, and Mrs. Fitzpatrick thought the journey had been too much for one day; she means to divide it when we go back." "When you go back! That will not be while I am here, I can tell you," said Harriet. "Oh! I do wish Margaret that you were married. I hate single women!" "I really cannot help that, Harriet," said Margaret. "I told you all about my affair with George;" said Harriet with emphasis. "True, dear Harriet, but I was not a married woman!" said Margaret, trying to rally her spirits. "If you think I should repeat anything to George, you are quite mistaken," said Harriet, "he may think himself very well off if I confide to him my own affairs." "But, indeed, dear Harriet, I have no affairs to confide;" persisted poor Margaret. "You cannot be in love with Mr. Haveloc;" said Harriet musing, and trying to recall what happened at Chirke Weston, the only time she saw them both together. "In love with him--no!" said Margaret drawing herself up, and speaking with energy. "Brava! you handsome little creature;" cried Harriet catching her in her arms, and covering her with kisses, "but come, it is a dull party to-day, but we will make up for it to-morrow." If it was a dull party, it was at least a very large one. The drawing-room was full. Lady Raymond, with jewels in her dress and hair, was standing by a vase of flowers, showing something choice to one of the guests. Lord Raymond came in quietly, spoke to the company, went up to his wife and looked at her dress, took hold of one of her ornaments, with some curiosity, and then stood on the hearth-rug until dinner was ready. Margaret was assigned to Everard Gage, who never talked if he could help it; and she felt the luxury of repose and silence during this grand, tedious dinner. When they were again in the drawing-room, the ladies divided into little knots according to their tastes and degrees of intimacy. Mrs. Fitzpatrick was seated in one of the windows; Margaret at a stand near her, looking over some prints; Harriet was discussing, with Miss Campbell and Lady James Deacon, the French vaudeville they meant to act. Lady Raymond, whose feelings, though not very deep, were kindly, seated herself beside Mrs. Fitzpatrick. "We met a very old friend of yours to-day, quite unexpectedly," she said in a low voice. "Indeed!" said Mrs. Fitzpatrick with great interest. "Was it Mr. Haveloc? Is he at Tynebrook?" "He is just arrived," said Lucy, "and he dines with us to-morrow. I thought you would like to know." "Thank you; I shall be truly glad to see him;" said Mrs. Fitzpatrick with a sigh.