After his inspection, Lydyeard put down his glass, and commencing with 'Gad,' given with a peculiarly rich smack, continued, 'that's Gustave de Tournefort, a young Frenchman of good birth, who has been over here, off and on, for the last two years; he sings well, and that sort of thing, and, what is odd for a Frenchman, rides very straight to hounds. He had rooms at Leamington last winter near Forestfield's place, and they say his going was very good indeed.' 'Poor child!' repeated Uffington, with his glasses still upon Lady Forestfield. 'Yes, quite; isn't he?' said Tom Lydyeard, who only caught the last word. 'They call him "_l'enfant terrible_," and say, for all that mild and innocent look of his, that he is the very mischief when he takes a fancy. See! this is Forestfield coming this way.' As he spoke there advanced towards them a small slight man, with delicate effeminate features, sunken eyes, and a hard cruel mouth. He nodded to Lydyeard and stared rather insolently at Uffington as he passed. 'I don't like that man's looks,' said Uffington. 'I have studied physiognomy a good deal in the course of my wanderings, and I scarcely ever saw a more secretive, untrustworthy face. I should think that poor girl yonder must sooner or later have a bad time with such a man.' * * * * * * Nugent Uffington would not have said differently had he seen and heard what was passing in the box on the grand tier. M. de Tournefort chatted very pleasantly with the Duchess of Melrose, who had been accustomed to admiration for thirty years, and who still enjoyed it; but when another gentleman came into the box, the Frenchman ceded the chair by her grace's side, and, taking advantage of an opportunity when the duchess and the new-comer were in animated conversation about the diamonds of the ambassadress opposite, managed to whisper in Lady Forestfield's ear, 'We have been watched, and Forestfield knows all!' A bright flush mantled over her neck and mounted to the roots of her hair; then faded away, leaving her whiter than before. The hand holding her glass trembled, and her lips twitched convulsively; but after a minute she managed to regain her self-control, and without looking at him, she said, in a voice which he alone could hear, the one word, 'Go!' CHAPTER II. LADY FORESTFIELD AT HOME.