A beautiful woman in her day must have been Bettina Davenal, with her pure complexion and her classical features. But the grey eyes had a cold hard look in them now; and the nose, across the high bridge of which the delicate skin was drawn so tightly, was almost painfully thin. The name Bettina had been bestowed on her at the request of a godmother, a lady of Italian origin; not an ugly name, but somewhat long for the everyday use of English tongues, and those familiar with her occasionally shortened it into "Miss Bett," a liberty that was resented by Miss Davenal. She laboured under that troublesome defect, intense deafness, and also under the no less troublesome conviction (not unfrequently accompanying it) that she was not deaf at all. Her hair of a pale flaxen, soft and abundant still, was worn in smooth braids, and was surmounted by a rich lace head-dress, very high. She need not have added to her height; she was tall enough without it; as was seen when she rose to receive Lady Oswald. A straight-down, thin, upright figure, without crinolines or cordings, her grey damask dress falling in wrapt folds around her as she held forth her mittened hand. "I hope I see you better, Lady Oswald." The tone was unnaturally high: you may have noticed that it is so sometimes in deaf people. Lady Oswald, with her weak nerves, would have put her hands to her ears had she done as she liked. "I am not well today. I am worse than usual. I have had a most unpleasant shock, Miss Davenal; an upset." "A what?" cried Miss Davenal, putting her hand to her ear. "An upset." "Bless my heart!" cried Miss Davenal; "did your carriage run away?" "Tell her, Sara," groaned Lady Oswald. "I shall be hoarse for two days if I call out like this." "Lady Oswald has had some unpleasant news, aunt. She has received notice that they are going to run the railway through her grounds." Miss Davenal caught a word or so, and looked terrified. "Received notice that they are going to run a railway through her! What do you mean?" "Not through her," said Sara, putting her lips close to the deaf ears. "Through her grounds." "But I'd not let them," cried Miss Davenal, hearing now. "I'd not let them, Lady Oswald." "I won't," screamed Lady Oswald at the top of her voice. "I have sent for Mr. Oswald Cray." Miss Davenal was dubious. "What good will that do? Is it to pelt upon them? I hate those wicked railways." "Is what to pelt upon them?" "The clay. Didn't you say you had sent for some clay?" "Oh dear! Sara, do make her understand." Poor Sara had to do her best. "Not clay, Aunt Bettina; Mr. Oswald Cray." Aunt Bettina nodded her stately head. "I like Mr. Oswald Cray. He is a favourite of mine, Lady Oswald." "As he is of everybody's, Miss Davenal," returned Lady Oswald. "I'd have remembered him in my will but for offending the Oswald family. They are dreadfully prejudiced." "Pinched!" echoed Miss Davenal. "Where's he pinched?"