my hands in his and kissed them one after the other very respectful. And says he, ‘Forgive me, Madam, forgive me! Your mother will explain. It has been an absurd misunderstanding. I found a treasure, and I thought I had lost it. Oh, forgive me if I seem too precipitate!’ And Jane got up and went to the window and began to tap on the pane, and Mamma and the Duchess looked at each other. And the Duchess said: ‘I congratulate you, Amelia, this is the most crazy bit of good fortune that ever befell a mother,’ And everything did seem rather crazy, for there was Mamma at one minute looking as if she could kill me and at the next clasping me and calling me her favourite child. And oh,” went on the plain Miss Vibart, “it is precipitate, but what does that matter, when we’re both so happy? And oh, it seems I must tell you, and ’tis not vanity! that the moment he saw Jane he stared and looked so mortal disappointed and seemed so confused, falling back two steps indeed, instead of coming forward, that the Duchess cried: ‘What’s the matter with the fellow? Ain’t she pretty enough?’ And he said: ‘This is never the young lady to whom you introduced me at Hampshire House, ma’am. There is some cruel mistake here,’ he says. And oh, he said to me, when we were alone together a little while ago that when he saw that empty face--that’s what he said--that doll’s face, that bit of waxwork, his blood ran cold, and then says he: ‘When you came in!’--oh dear, I’m not dreaming!--‘When I saw your charming expressive countenance, full of life and spirit and wit and goodness’--he did say that--‘I could not hold myself back, I had to speak at once, lest I lose you again.’ And now,” concluded the future Marchioness, turning her radiant visage upon the milliner, “he’s gone to Harborough House to tell his uncle, and Mamma and Jane have gone out to a dinner party, and if you’ll help me into my frock, dear--yes, it is one of poor Jane’s--I’ll be ready for him when he calls back, to wish me good night.” CHAPTER IX IN WHICH MISS PAMELA POUNCE HAS DONE WITH LOVE Pamela Pounce was nothing if not a business woman, as her history will have shown. She had not only those valuable intuitions which divine the public taste, she had the still more priceless quality of inspiring it. Before she had completed her first year with Madame Mirabel, the millinery department had become the mainstay of the house; and Pamela felt herself in a position to hint to her employer how very much more it would be to their mutual advantage that she should be given a proprietary share in the business, than that she should set up for herself. Set up for herself! The mere thought of such a catastrophe put Madame Mirabel in such a flutter that she had to be revived with ratafia on the spot. There was no concession that she would not have been willing to make to prevent it.