And meanwhile what new and dolorous truths had Lady Kitty been learning as to her mother's history and her mother's position? By Jove! it _was_ hard upon the girl. Darrell was right. Why not leave her to her French friends and relations?--or relinquish her to Lady Grosville? Madame d'Estrées had seen little or nothing of her for years. She could not, therefore, be necessary to her mother's happiness, and there was a real cruelty in thus claiming her, at the very moment of her entrance into society, where Madame d'Estrées could only stand in her way. For although many a man whom the girl might profitably marry was to be found among the mother's guests, the influences of Madame d'Estrées' "evenings" were certainly not matrimonial. Still the unforeseen was surely the probable in Lady Kitty's case. What sort of man ought she to marry--what sort of man could safely take the risks of marrying her--with that mother in the background? He descended at the way-side station prescribed to him, and looked round him for fellow-guests--much as the card-player examines his hand. Mary Lyster, a cabinet minister--filling an ornamental office and handed on from ministry to ministry as a kind of necessary appendage, the public never knew why--the minister's second wife, an attaché from the Austrian embassy, two members of Parliament, and a well-known journalist--Ashe said to himself flippantly that so far the trumps were not many. But he was always reasonably glad to see Mary, and he went up to her, cared for her bag, and made her put on her cloak, with cousinly civility. In the omnibus on the way to the house he and Mary gossiped in a corner, while the cabinet minister and the editor went to sleep, and the two members of Parliament practised some courageous French on the Austrian attaché. "Is it to be a large party?" he asked of his companion. "Oh! they always fill the house. A good many came down yesterday." "Well, I'm not curious," said Ashe, "except as to one person." "Who?" "Lady Kitty Bristol." Mary Lyster smiled. "Yes, poor child, I heard from the Grosville girls that she was to be here." "Why 'poor child'?" "I don't know. Quite the wrong expression, I admit. It should be 'poor hostess.'" "Oh!--the Grosvilles complain?" "No. They're only on tenter-hooks. They never know what she will do next." "How good for the Grosvilles!" "You think society is the better for shocks?" "Lady Grosville can do with them, anyway. What a masterful woman! But I'll back Lady Kitty." "I haven't seen her yet," said Mary. "I hear she is a very odd-looking little thing." "Extremely pretty," said Ashe. "Really?" Mary lifted incredulous eyebrows. "Well, now I shall know what you admire." "Oh, my tastes are horribly catholic--I admire so many people," said Ashe, with a glance at the well-dressed elegance beside him. Mary colored a little, unseen; and the rattle of the carriage as it entered the covered porch of Grosville Park cut short their conversation.