No, no! The Slander--Rose, in her turn, saw it under an image, as though a dark night-bird hovered over Upcote--had not yet descended on this gentle head. With eager kindness, Hugh came forward--and Catharine. They found her a place by the fire, where presently the glow seemed to make its way to her pale cheeks, and she sat silent and amused, watching the triumph of Hester. For Hester was no sooner in the room than, resenting perhaps the decidedly cool reception that Mrs. Flaxman had given her, she at once set to work to extinguish all the other young women there. And she had very soon succeeded. The Oxford youths, Lord Wanless, the sons of two or three neighbouring squires, they were all presently gathered about her, as thick as bees on honeycomb, recognizing in her instantly one of those beings endowed from their cradle with a double portion of sex-magic, who leave such a wild track behind them in the world. By her chair stood poor Stephen Barron, absorbed in her every look and tone. Occasionally she threw him a word--Rose thought for pure mischief; and his whole face would light up. In the centre of the circle round Hester stood one of the Oxford lads, a magnificent fellow, radiating health and gayety, who was trying to wear her down in one of the word-games of the day. They fought hard and breathlessly, everybody listening partly for the amusement of the game, partly for the pleasure of watching the good looks of the young creatures playing it. At last the man turned on his heel with a cry of victory. "Beaten!--beaten!--by a hair. But you're wonderful, Miss Fox-Wilton. I never found anybody near so good as you at it before, except a man I met once at Newmarket--Philip Meryon--do you know him? Never saw a fellow so good at games. But an awfully queer fish!" It seemed to the morbid sensitiveness of Rose that there was an instantaneous and a thrilling silence. Hester tossed her head; her colour, after the first start, ebbed away; she grew pale. "Yes, I do know him. Why is he a queer fish? You only say that because he beat you!" The young man gave a half-laugh, and looked at his friends. Then he changed the subject. But Hester got up impatiently from her seat, and would not play any more. Rose caught the sudden intentness with which Alice Puttenham's eyes pursued her. Stephen Barron came to the help of his hostess, and started more games. Rose was grateful to him--and quite intolerably sorry for him. "But why was I obliged to shake hands with the other brother?" she thought rebelliously, as she watched the disagreeable face of Maurice Barron, who had been standing in the circle not far from Hester. He had a look of bad company which displeased her; and she resented what seemed to her an inclination to stare at the pretty women--especially at Hester, and Miss Puttenham. Heavens!--if that odious father had betrayed anything to such a son! Surely, surely it was inconceivable!