d she wished to justify
the extreme deference which he showed her so properly in public, and
perhaps with morbid conscientiousness in _tete-a-tete_.

"I don't know how I shall get through the winter," she observed, in
reply to Lord Garrow's inquiries about her health. "I am working like a
pack-horse." Here she caught Pole-Knox's name and bowed mechanically,
without seeing him, in his direction. The entire afternoon they had been
looking together over the accounts of a Home for Female Orphans, and
poor Lady Augusta had been forced to see that whatever fire and
enthusiasm her _protege_ could display in tracking down the orphans'
dishonest butcher, his respect where she was concerned verged on
frigidity.

Lady Larch was the next arrival, and as she was famous for her smile,
she used it freely, not fatiguing herself by listening to remarks, or
making them. In her youth she had been called bonnie; she was still
pleasant to look upon. She talked very little, and perhaps on this
account her few sayings were treasured, repeated throughout society,
and much esteemed. "Surely it is a mistake to give men the notion that
all good women are dull" was one of her classic utterances. Another ran,
"Those who are happy do not trouble about the woes of the human race."
Another, "The Dissenters belong essentially to a non-governing class--a
vulgar class." These will serve to show the scope of her observation and
the excellence of her intentions. In fact, she was often found dull. She
was not especially disturbed about the woes of humanity, and her
maternal grandfather had been a Presbyterian cotton-merchant. She bore
Pole-Knox away to a far corner and begged to be told all the latest
details of Miss Carillon's abominable conduct.

"I do not exactly know," said she, "the state of things. The poor dear
Bishop must be in a dreadful state."

Orange came in with Aumerle and Hartley Penborough. Lady Augusta, who
was a kind, sincere woman, pressed his hand warmly, and showed with her
eyes that she appreciated the difficulties of his position. He had aged,
Sara thought, and he looked as though he suffered from sleeplessness;
otherwise, in manner and in all ways, he was just as he had always been.

Sara looked at him, and, looking, she read the secret thoughts in his
mind. Yes, she was to him, no doubt, the undisciplined, passionate girl
who lived on admiration, excitement, and false romance. He owned her
beauty; he excused her faults; he like