Presently beautiful Hesperus, wrapped in her misty mantle, came gliding along the mountain-tops, and hung her bright star in the sky, and Letty continued her way. * * * * * Blagdon’s arrivals and departures were notoriously abrupt, and after a busy and exciting three days in Paris, he appeared in Hill Street with his unheralded companion; looking forward with a sort of brutal glee to ‘taking a splendid rise out of old Connie.’ He had merely announced his immediate return, ‘bringing a friend.’ It was eight o’clock when he entered his smoking-room, closely attended by Cara (who had been not a little impressed by her father’s wealth, the appearance of the home, and its group of silent, dignified men-servants--a home where _she_ was to reign as mistress). Here, sunken in an arm-chair, with a dog on her lap, a cigarette in her mouth, a sporting paper in her hand, they discovered Lady Rashleigh. She was greatly changed; her figure was shapeless, her hair a foxy grey, her skin coarse, and deeply lined--altogether, especially in a shabby deshabille, she deservedly earned the adjective ‘Blowsy.’ Yet at race meetings, in a well-cut coat and handsome furs, Con Rashleigh was still regarded as a wonderful woman for sixty--pity she had let her figure go! “Hullo, Blag!” she exclaimed, as she removed her cigarette, “so here you are! Have you seen this Handicap--why--who’s this?” surveying her niece with an aggressive stare. Hugo occasionally introduced startling acquaintances. “Who have we here?” throwing down the Pom, and rising heavily to her feet. The stranger was a tall, handsome girl with a vague resemblance to someone--why, to Letty, to be sure! In an illuminating flash she saw it all! Blag had sprung one of his jokes on her, and brought home the daughter! “It’s only my little girl,” he announced with indescribable pride; “five-foot-six in her stockings. She has chucked Switzerland, and come to live with me.” “Ah, so this is Cara,” drawing her towards her as she spoke. _Ciel!_ How her aunt smelt of whisky, and tobacco;--just like a man, thought the girl as she passively submitted to her kisses. “Why did you not prepare me? Why keep this pleasure to yourself?” continued Lady Rashleigh with ostentatious composure.--In that brief moment she had decided to be civil to the new-comer, and make no _scene_. Hugo was undoubtedly struck, but his fancies never lasted; he would tire of his novelty before the month was out, and she resolved to sit tight in Hill Street--the flat was let. This well-grown interloper knew nothing of English society, and she determined to keep her in the background, and rule her, as she had done the pink-cheeked little fool, her mother.