"Trem.," said Lord Randolph, using the abbreviation by which he frequently addressed his friend, "I've brought Lady Dora before the hour, because I have a particular engagement, and must leave her in your care for half an hour." Be it said, Lady Ripley imagined Lord Randolph was going to remain the whole time during her sitting, else her ideas of propriety, most justly, would have forbidden allowing her to stop alone in a painter's studio. Lord Randolph had no thought of harm of his friend, when Lady Dora said,-- "I am most anxious to get my sittings over for this Diana; so don't tell mamma you are going to leave me there alone, or she will not allow me to go." English mothers, perhaps too freely, permit their daughters to walk out _only_ accompanied by their intended husbands! French ones say, "The marriage may never take place; 'tis better to avoid bringing a girl's name in question." Lord Randolph looked at "Diana," and at the fair original, and departed fearless and confiding. Lady Dora trembled with annoyance. Every moment was an hour. She was resolved to have an explanation; and how accomplish this with Skaife present? However, there was a fate to turn all to its will. This latter felt choking with impatience. He could not remain there all the period of the sitting, for nothing could be done until Lady Dora left. So he rose, and entering the bedroom, approached the alcove, where he had placed a chair for Minnie to rest upon; in a low whisper he told her the state of the case, and bade her be patient--all would go well. Be it remembered that, whatever his suspicions of the state of Lady Dora's heart, he had no proof, he knew nothing of the scarcely ambiguous conversations which took place between them, whenever they met. To collect his thoughts, he deemed it best to go out for a walk; consequently he went, to Lady Dora's great joy, and, pulling the outer door after him, _thought_ he closed it, but he did not--it remained ajar. Lady Dora sat some moments listening, then her impatience began to manifest itself by a movement of the foot. Tremenhere's calmness and cheerful ease drove her mad. "Mr. Tremenhere," she said at last, "were you not surprised to see me dancing with your----with Mr. Burton, the other evening?" "Who--I, Lady Dora?" he asked in extreme surprise, but most placidly; "not in the least--why should I be?" "Because--because, it was strange my doing so." "Strange! Lady Dora--you use a wrong term, I think; there is nothing strange in a natural action. Mr. Burton, to do him justice, is tall, gentlemanly in appearance, can converse on general topics most agreeable to ladies, dances very well--and what more does a lady require?" "True--for all this you speak freely and truthfully; but you forget the character of the man--you forget----"