be changing herself from an angel into a virago. Sir George doated on the angel, but he ruled her with a rod of iron; he would hate the virago, but she knew that he would fear and obey her. Any happy medium did not exist; her simple Yea and Nay could never carry weight as Ella's did, because she had hitherto taught Sir George that his will was hers. She could not turn round and play the shrew whilst the singing of the siren was fresh in his ears. Goethe has said, “ Der augenblich ist Ewigkeit !"-"The present moment is eternity." And Kitty's present satisfied her as if indeed it were to last for ever. The most trifling accessories of every-day existence delighted her. The most trifling dignities of her new position filled her with childish enjoyment.

Just before the London season came to an end, Lady Adela gave a magnificent reception. Kitty moved from room to room, lost in admiration of the brilliant lights, the costly flowers, the stars and orders, the diamonds, the satins, the lace.

Amongst the crowd of Lady Adela's guests, numbering a foreign prince or two, ambassadors, peers and peeresses, bishops, statesmen, and generals, Kitty and Sir George were not naturally of much account. A man who spends his best years abroad simply for his own good-will and pleasure, and then presents himself in England, has no right to feel disappointed if he stands at a disadvantage. What has he done for society that society should do him homage? Again, if he brings home a young wife, of whom the world knows nothing, what right has he to take offence at her apparent insignificance ? In Lady Adela's world, Lady Bartelotte was supremely insignificant, and the truth dawned upon Kitty when the first flush of her enjoyment was over. She knew a few people, and had been introduced to some strangers, but there anything like sharing in the universal sociality was at an end. Ella never attended late parties, or matters would have been better. Looking on the gay scene by her husband's side, Kitty felt almost as much out of place as if she had been transported thither fresh from the poverty and inexperience of Paradise Place years ago. A few minutes before she had wished that Mrs Cornford and Vittoria could see her moving amid these

splendid crowds, " with all her bravery on," but now the childlike wish was recalled.

"I suppose we shall be going soon?" she said to Sir George "it is already late."

"As you please-exactly as you please, my dear. Oh! here is Tyrrell. Let us hear what he has to say."

"Are not these rooms superb?" asked Mr Tyrrell of Kitty, after a little talk. "They have been re-decorated since Lady Adela was last in England. Her taste is faultless."

Then he drew Kitty's attention to some exquisite wall-painting, and the general harmony of colour displayed throughout the room.

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By the by," he said, after a time, "I have just seen an old friend of yours, Lady Bartelotte. I got Lady Adela to introduce me-no easy matter, I assure you. He happens to be the one person everybody wants to know, and is certainly most delightful. I mean Dr Norman."

"Dr Norman here?" Kitty asked, greatly astonished.

"You may well look astonished, for he is almost a hermit; but Lady Adela persuades people against their wills. He is just talking with Lord one of the most enthusiastic

admirers of Dr Norman's scientific speculations."

"Suppose we go and look for him?" Sir George said, tickled at the idea of encountering his old antagonist and rival. "What do you say, Kitty?"

"that

"Just as you please, dear," Kitty said; and they went. "You never mentioned to us," Mr Tyrrell went on, Dr Norman's daughter was married to Perugino Neeve, the young artist whose pictures have been so talked of lately-and such a pretty daughter, too!"

Kitty was getting more and more out of her depth. She said, with quite a bewildered look, "They, too, here?" feeling as much surprised as if Mrs Cornford's presence had been announced.

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Lady Adela adores genius, you know, and there is very little doubt of Mr Neeve being a genius."

Then Mr Tyrrell went on to say how Perry had been introduced to So-and-So, and So-and-So, and how he and his young

wife were said to be the handsomest people in the room-with a few exceptions, he put in parenthetically, adding

"It must be very pleasant to have genius. Like a golden key, it unlocks all the treasure-stores of the world. I have heard "-here he dropped his voice-" that this very Perugino Neeve, whom Lady Adela's guests are praising and lionising, used to live in an attic among a company of the veriest Bohemians that ever were. But there's Dr Norman ! He is still in the heat of his discussion, so we will just pass on."

They approached slowly, and Kitty had time to look well at her old friend and faithful lover. He appeared younger, rather than older, to her thinking, the natural effect of a more elaborate toilette and better-trimmed beard; for Dr Norman, like all frail mortals, owed a good deal to outward adornment; and his expression was animated, eager, almost joyous, as he debated on some favourite topic. Without being at all a striking-looking or handsome man, Dr Norman could bear comparison with the more physically favoured of his fellows. His presence was simple and yet full of dignity, his brow noble, his smile sweet, his voice clear and musical. As they went by, he looked up, and recognising Kitty in all her dignity of pink satin and diamonds, bowed coldly and let her pass. There was not a vestige of a smile on his lips, not a shade of friendliness in the look with which he greeted her, not a sign of anything like the recognition Kitty had expected from him. It is easy to convey irrevocable meanings with a glance of the eyes, a smile, or a hand-clasp, and she had always hoped for a token of perfect forgiveness at Dr Norman's hands, whenever they might chance to meet. What so natural for him now as to have stepped forward and said a friendly word? Kitty, who had always given her friends stones when they had asked for bread, could not understand, could not pardon them for doing the same. Dr Norman's conduct was hard, cruel, unjustifiable, she said to herself, and it was with much ado she could keep the angry tears from rising to her eyes. Why were men so hard upon women? If she had wronged him, had she not atoned for her wrong long ago by keen self-reproach? Poor Kitty! As if passive self-reproach of itself can atone for

wrong! She felt, moreover, a little natural mortification at the conviction of her husband's insignificance. Even Perry poor, despised, neglected, absurd Perry, had made a better figure at this noble lady's house than he! What was Sir George Bartelotte to society, that it should trouble itself to smile upon him? And as Sir George Bartelotte's wife, she must, of course, share his insignificance. She wished and intended from her heart of hearts to be true and good and loyal to him, who had chosen her for his wife. This, if anything, must be her salvation in the future.

"How did you enjoy the party, my love?" asked Sir George, after settling himself comfortably in a corner of the carriage. "It was magnificent!" Kitty said.

"What an odd coincidence that we should meet Dr Norman at Lady Adela's, above all places! He's a gentlemanly fellow, though surly as a bear-and I've nothing to say against Lady Adela's receiving him. But what was Tyrrell telling you about your old protégé-the painter?"

"He is married to Dr Norman's daughter, and they were both there," Kitty answered, calmly.

"The deuce he was! But I thought you described him as a sort of Bohemian, one of those delectable persons one meets with in Balzac's or Mürger's novels?"

"He was very poor once, and the society he lived in called itself Bohemian."

"Then all that I can say is, that English society is getting so damnably democratic (excuse me, my dear), that I think we had better give it up altogether, and go abroad again. How thankful you must be that you married mẹ, and washed your hands clean of your old friends-eh, Kitty?"

"But it does not seem as if my old friends were anything to be ashamed of," Kitty said, laughing a little bitterly. "They received twice as much homage as you or I did."

"Pshaw!" said Sir George. "Lady Adela is a lion-hunter. That is all. She would invite the King of the Cannibal Islands if he came to London. Take my advice, my dear Kitty, and look upon yourself as a lucky woman to have married a respectable man instead of any of your high-flying geniuses."

And thereupon the worthy baronet began to doze, and by the time the carriage stopped in Clarges Street, was sound asleep. Ella had gone to bed long ago, but little Françine was waiting to undress her mistress.

"Mon Dieu ! que Miladi est belle ce soir!" she said again and again, as she took off the pink satin dress and the diamonds, and unbraided Kitty's long dark hair.

But Kitty smiled no response upon the little thing as she had done many and many a time before.

"What does it matter? Qu'est que cela fait!" she said, impatiently, and that was all. She was bewildered by the events of the evening. The splendour of the scene, the sense of her own and her husband's insignificance-nay, isolation—the chance meeting with Dr Norman, the fact of Perry's presence; all these things perplexed her as painfully as mathematical problems perplex a student in the deliriums of fever.

And Dr Norman's look-so stern, so steadfast- -so retributive-haunted her as she lay wakeful on her soft pillows.

CHAPTER LXXII.

KITTY'S LAST APPEARANCE IN BOHEMIA.

AT last the London season came to an end. Mr Tyrrell had overruled Ella's objections to a speedy marriage; so that all prospect of a winter abroad was over, and Kitty was making preparations for a long stay at Akenholme Park. Three months were to intervene before the marriage took place; after which, Mr Tyrrell proposed that they should carry out his first plan of a Nile journey. To this, also, Ella had consented. She was so much stronger now than of old, and had ever longed to see the Pyramids. She saw, moreover, how utterly impossible it was for her to interfere successfully on behalf of Kitty. Once she had attempted to convince Sir George that Kitty would find Akenholme a dreary home in winter, and he had said—

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'My darling, a woman must live where her husband likes. It is surely a little late for Kitty to come to the conclusion that my house is a dull one."