For some time her thoughts were terrible. She recalled the drag alleged by the public prints to be Goring's--the entertainment, given even to royalty, at 'his rooms in Piccadilly,' all evidences of wealth that must have come to him since the time she was decoyed to the Continent, and in the fact of that wealth--the absence of which was the cause of her father's hostility to the last hour of his life--this girl's remarks now confirmed her! That Bevil Goring could love or even admire such a girl--a man so refined and delicate in taste and ideas--she never for a moment imagined; but what did the whole situation and that girl's boastful allegations mean? How came he to know such people, despite their great wealth, and permit them to cultivate his acquaintance? Yet matters seemed to have progressed so far that even the servants were canvassing the prospects of a _wedding_! More than all, why, oh why had he never attempted to discover her, to trace her out, in these her days of poverty and sore trial! The magnitude and the multitude of her thoughts overwhelmed her; among these were emotions of sharp but just pride, keen disappointment, bitterest doubt, and agonising mortification; but her tears--usually so ready to flow--came not to relieve her now, and she was only roused from a kind of feverish stupefaction by the entrance of a servant to light the candles, and conduct 'the young ladies downstairs to dessert,' an invitation to which they responded with instant alacrity. Stooping over the stair-bannister, she heard his voice once or twice as the male guests filed off to the drawing-room after the ladies, and it thrilled through her heart. A choking lump rose in her throat, but still not a tear would come. After a time she was roused by some one addressing her. It was a servant, by nature saucy, under-bred, illiterate, and disposed to be impertinent in general when she could be so with impunity. 'Were you addressing me?' asked Alison. 'Yes; the missus says as you are to tittivate yourself a bit and come down to the drawing-room.' 'I am to--_what_?' asked Alison, sharply--for her at least. 'Tittivate yourself--it is Henglish; but, bein' Scotch, perhaps you don't know what it means.' 'I am not going to the--drawing-room to-night.' 'You won't obey the missus?' exclaimed the servant, aghast. 'Certainly not in this instance.' 'Don't you know your place? You are honly a guv'ness, and guv'nesses ain't ladies, whatever they may think.' 'What are they?' 'Mock ones.' 'Leave the room instantly--or----' 'Or what?' asked the girl, sharply. 'I'll get you turned out of the house.' The girl withdrew uttering as Parthian shots some remarks about 'hupstarts hordering their betters about.' In a few minutes Miss De Jobbyns, with some irritation of manner, appeared to prefer the same request, adding that she was wanted for a hand at whist. 'To come down to play whist? Is not this an unusual condescension?' asked Alison.