That case, or rather the first stage of it, was very shortly to be brought to trial; the day had been fixed, and the date had been duly communicated to her by her attorney; for although it was not her intention to offer any defence to Lord Forestfield's application for a divorce, it was yet necessary for her to have legal advice. As the time slowly wore on and that dreadful date approached, May felt that such little courage as her elimination from society and from all chance of hearing herself and her past conduct discussed had afforded her, was virtually ebbing away. So far as publicity was concerned, a more terrible crisis awaited her than even that through which she had passed, for the gossip, hard and bitter though it was, had hitherto been confined to persons of her acquaintance, or who knew of her by repute; but so soon as the case should be brought into the law-courts, it must become public property, to serve as a theme of comment for the newspapers, and all the misery of shame which she had undergone at the time of the discovery would be renewed a hundredfold. The sense of degradation which now overwhelmed her, she had to keep within her breast; for with all her desire to pour out her sorrows to Eleanor, and with perfect knowledge of the relief which such a course would afford her, innate delicacy forbade Lady Forestfield's entering upon such a subject with a young and inexperienced girl. It was bad enough for her to know that Eleanor was generally acquainted with the circumstances which had broken up her friend's home, and thrown her into the position which she was then filling; it was quite impossible that May could enter into detail, even though certain of the sympathy and consolation which she would receive. She might, indeed, have talked the matter fully out with Mrs. Ingram, but that volatile lady had long since quitted the deserted metropolis, and was the reigning belle of a select circle of congenial spirits at Hombourg. Moreover, in her existing state of mind, May would have found no comfort in Kate Ingram's society; the style of life which she had at one time led, its interest and its pleasures, nay, its very jargon, seemed to have passed away and belonged to another portion of her existence. She was wretched enough now; shunned by those amongst whom she had formerly queened it, with but two real friends, Eleanor Irvine and Sir Nugent Uffington, in the whole wide world; and yet she somehow felt that her condition, desolate and forlorn as it seemed to be, was preferable, as being more reputable, to that which she had previously enjoyed.