The gentlemen as they came in made the usual diversion, arrested the talk of the ladies, and made an alteration in the groups. But Ralph kept his place among the younger men, standing in a group of them telling his bush stories, keeping up noisy peals of laughter. Somehow the carriages of Lady Witheringham and of Mrs. Kington lingered long that night--or rather, which was a sign that the evening had not been a failure so far as they were concerned, these ladies lingered and showed no inclination to go away. When the great lady got up at last she bestowed a kiss upon her palpitating hostess. “I am so much touched by your confidence in me, my dear,” she said, and actually held out her hand to Ralph with a condescending good-night. “I hope you will find your native country the best now that you have returned to it, Mr. Ravelstone,” she said. Ralph was so dumbfounded that fortunately he could only reply by a bow. But Letitia’s troubles were not over even when her outdoor guests were gone. There were still the visitors in the house, and the familiarity of the smoking-room, in which she was sure her brother would fully unveil himself. She made an attempt to draw him with her when the moment came for the candlesticks. “Come with me to my boudoir, Ralph,” she said in her kindest note. But the monster was not to be cajoled. “Oh, I think I see myself in a bou-duar as you call it when there’s a lot of jolly fellows waiting me.” Letitia caught him by the hand sharply, though without putting her nails into it as she would have liked to do--“Mary’s coming with me,” she said with the most winning notes she could bring forth. Ralph roared over her head, opening a wide cavern of a mouth in the middle of his big head. “Mary--’s an old maid,” he said. As for John Parke, he had a troubled air, and cast curious glances of mingled reproach and interrogation at his wife; but he could not leave his guests in the lurch. By the time she had escaped from the surveillance of the stranger’s looks and had got half way up the stair, Letitia had come to have one clear purpose in her mind if no more--and that was vengeance. She said to herself that all the miseries of the evening were Mary’s fault; its alleviations, Lady Witheringham’s kindness, and her kiss of sympathy Mrs. Parke felt she had achieved for herself--but for Ralph’s appearance, unannounced, and indeed for his presence at all untimely, it was Mary that was to blame. She paused on the stairs where the passage led off to the nursery apartments where Miss Hill, when her room was appropriated as now, found a refuge, and turning sharp round gripped Mary’s hand, who was so fluttered and frightened that she made a step backward and nearly lost her balance. Letitia held her up with that grip furious and tight upon her arm--“You come with me,” she said fiercely, “I’ve got something to say to you----” “I’d rather--hear it to-morrow,” said poor Mary.