When the terrible fact broke upon my lady, she groaned in spirit and was stunned. The spiteful baggage, baffled by her rival's exemplary conduct as a mother, had hit on a new way to torture her. The damsel in question was Madam Gillin's daughter, who had been brought up a Protestant, at the late lord's special wish. The reason for this singular proceeding was only too clear. That low hateful wretch, who had remained quiescent till the countess was almost at ease, was still pursuing her. Of course she could not be so truly wicked as to mean anything serious--for her own child's sake. It was a sword tied over her head to force her to grovel down upon her knees. But boys (specially heads of houses) always begin by falling in love with the wrong people. This was a transitory flirtation. Shane would grow tired of the vulgar chit. Vainly my lady hoped. Then with beatings of the breast it occurred to her, that as Gillin was a Catholic she must of course be capable of any crime. Before things attained a hopeless pitch, would it be needful for my lady to bow her haughty neck under Gillin's caudine forks? Oh! the agony of a stubborn pride which must publicly do penance! Would the ruthless tormentor exact such abasement as an exposure to her own children of the insulting behaviour of their father? Would it be requisite to crave a boon of the too jolly tyrant? Never! my lady decided that such humiliation might never be--death would be preferable. She would bide awhile and take refuge in religion, and pray that the cup might in mercy be removed.