And then the vivacious matron led the conversation away to another topic, and Madeline led the way to her boudoir. Presently Lady Rachel announced that she had an engagement at four o’clock, and that she could not remain for tea--not even if Madeline went on her knees to her, a feat that Maddie had no desire to perform--and finally she rushed off in a sort of mild whirlwind of good-byes, kisses, and last messages--screamed from the hall and stairs. Then Madeline sat alone over the fire, and reflected on what she had heard with keen discomfort, whilst she stupidly watched the red coals. Laurence had not answered her last two letters--he had not taken any notice of her call. Of course, he could not come to the house; but at least he might have written. He had no right to treat her as if she was a naughty child. He was entirely relieved of the burthen of her support; he could start well and unweighted in the race. She would pay for Harry too. Her father was impossible at present; he was dreadfully worried about money matters--he was ill. She was doing her best for Laurence and Harry. Surely, he knew that, and that she would rather be with them than here. But as she glanced at her magnificent surroundings, and at her silver tea equipage, just brought in by two powdered servants, with a request to know “if there were any orders for the carriage?” her heart misgave her. Would not Laurence think that she preferred all this--that this wealth was her attraction, luxury her idol--an idol that had cast out him and poor little Harry? She made a sudden decision. She would go and see Laurence. Yes, that very evening partake of his frugal dinner--a chop, no doubt--and coax him into a better frame of mind, and a better humour with herself. She would wear her usual evening toilette, and give him an agreeable surprise. The idea pleased her. She swallowed down her tea, ran quickly up to her room, and rang for Josephine. “Josephine,” she said, as that very smart person appeared, “I am going out to dine with a friend--an old friend that I knew when I was at school. I want to look my very best, though it will not be a party, only one or two. What shall I wear?” beginning to pull off her velvet morning-gown. “Well, miss, for two or three--a quiet dinner, but smart no doubt--your primrose satin with the chiffon body, just lighted with a few brilliants. I’ll do your hair in the new knot, and run the diamond arrow through it.” This simple toilet occupied a considerable time. What with dressing Madeline’s hair, lacing her gown, arranging her ornaments, it was nearly seven before the great business was completed; but it was finished at last, to Josephine’s entire satisfaction. “Well, mademoiselle, I never saw you look better--no, nor as well!”