While he was turning over in his mind a variety of baits by which he might draw Beachcombe into a quarrel, the latter pursued his way through the crowd, exchanging greetings and receiving congratulations upon the advent of his son and heir, and at last reached Prudence. It was no very easy task to edge his way through the throng of her admirers, nor had he any special reason to felicitate himself upon his success when he had gained it. He came up, bowing low, with his hand upon his breast, pouring out the customary stream of high-flown compliments and asseverations that the sun, moon and stars had refused their light since her eyes, the brightest of all luminaries, had been withdrawn from the firmament! Prue regarded him with one of her most beaming smiles. "’And pray, sir, when came you from hell? Our friends there—did you leave them well?’" she inquired, with an air of flattering interest. In the midst of the laughter that greeted this sally, Peggie was heard to exclaim, in a voice of mock-horror, "Prue! how shocking!" "My dear, you must blame Mr. Prior, not me, if you object to the quotation," said Prue demurely. "Maybe," retorted Peggie; "but in conversation one can not see the inverted commas, and you know Lord Beachcombe does not read poetry." "True, I apologize," said Prue, and turning again to her former suitor, she dropped a deep curtsey. "How is it, Lord Beachcombe, that we have not seen you earlier?" she asked graciously. "When did you arrive from—home? and did you leave her ladyship and the baby well?" The laugh that followed this was utterly incomprehensible to the proud father, who replied with urbanity, feeling that Prue showed great self-denial in making these inquiries so publicly and exposing herself to the hilarity of those who could not fail to remember how she had forfeited the proud position of wife to the present and mother of the future Earl of Beachcombe. He felt quite sorry for the regret and mortification she must be suffering and was inclined to concede that the punishment was overharsh for the frailty of a creature so winsome. He offered his hand to lead her into the supper-room and the magnetic thrill of her touch sent the blood surging through his veins in the old accustomed way—he looked down into the sparkling depths of her lovely eyes and straightway forgot—everything that he ought to have remembered. It needed but the gloomy frown of Sir Geoffrey Beaudesert to incite him to offer the most effusive attentions and Prue to permit, if not actually encourage them, until wearying of a pastime that had nothing to recommend it but its folly, she turned the battery of her fascinations in another direction.