“Not the celebrity, surely,--the young politician who made such a sensation by a first speech in Parliament t'other day? He's all the rage here. Could it be him?” “Possibly enough,” said she, carelessly. “He had very good abilities, and knew it.” “He comes to us occasionally, but I scarcely have any acquaintance with him. But this is not telling me of yourself, child. Who and what are these people you are living with? Do they value my dear Kate as they ought? Are they worthy of having her amongst them?” “I 'm afraid not,” said Kate, with a smile. “They do not seem at all impressed with the blessing they enjoy, and only treat me as one of themselves.” “But, seriously, child, are they as kind as they should be? That old lady is, to my thinking, as austere as an Archduchess.” “I like her,” said Kate; “that is, I like her cold, reserved manner, unbending as it is, which only demands the quiet duties of servitude, and neither asks nor wishes for affection. She admits me to no friendship, but she exacts no attachment.” “And you like this?” “I did not say I should like it from _you!_ said Kate, pressing the hand she held fervently to her lips, while her pale cheek grew faintly red. “And you go into the world with her,--at least _her_ world?” “She has none here. Too haughty for second-rate society, and unknown to those who form the first class at Paris, she never goes out.” “But she would--she would like to do so?” “I 'm sure she would.” “Then mamma shall visit her. You know she is everything here; her house is the rendezvous of all the distinguished people, and, once seen in her salons, my Lady--how do you call her?” “Lady Dorothea Martin.” “I can't repeat it--but no matter--her Ladyship shall not want for attentions. Perhaps she would condescend to come to me on Wednesday? Dare I venture to ask her?” Kate hesitated, and the Duchess quickly rejoined,--“No, dearest, you are quite right; it would be hazardous, too abrupt, too unceremonious. You will, however, be with us; and I long to present you to all my friends, and show them one to whom I owe so much, and ought to be indebted to for far more. I 'll send for you early, that we may have a long morning together.” And so saying, she arose to take leave. “I feel as though I 'll scarcely believe I had seen you when you have gone,” said Kate, earnestly. “I'll fancy it all a dream--or rather, that my life since we met has been one, and that we had never parted.” “Were we not very happy then, Kate?” said the Duchess, with a half-sigh; “happier, perhaps, than we may ever be again.” “_You_ must not say so, at all events,” said Kate, once more embracing her. And they parted. Kate arose and watched the splendid equipage as it drove away, and then slowly returned to her place at the work-table. She did not, however, resume her embroidery, but sat deep in reflection, with her hands clasped before her.