ffe, those who loved her not had read what dark things they
pleased, her uncle by marriage was quite content to see in it a mere
disciplinary act on the part of the husband.

Lord Grosville believed that some rumors as to Cliffe's private
character had entered into the decisive defeat--in a constituency
largely Nonconformist--which had befallen that gentleman at the polls.
Poor Lady Tranmore! He saw her anxieties in her face, and was truly
sorry for her. At the same time, inveterate gossip that he was, he
regarded her with a kind of hunger. If she only <i>would</i> talk things over
with him! So far, however, she had given him very little opening. If she
ever did, he would certainly advise her to press something like a
temporary separation on her son. Why should not Lady Kitty be left at
Haggart when the next session began? Lord Grosville, who had been a
friend of Melbourne's, recalled the early history of that great man.
When Lady Caroline Lamb had become too troublesome to a political
husband, she had been sent to Brocket. And then Mr. Lamb was only Irish
Secretary--without a seat in the cabinet. How was it possible to take an
important share in steering the ship of state, and to look after a giddy
wife at the same time?

* * * * *

Ashe and his guests lingered late below-stairs. When, somewhere about
one o'clock, he entered his dressing-room, he was suddenly alarmed by a
smell of burning. It seemed to come from Kitty's room. He knocked
hastily at her door.

"Kitty!"

No answer. He opened the door, and stood arrested.

The room was in complete darkness save for some weird object in the
centre of it, on which a fire was burning, sending up a smoke which hung
about the room. Ashe recognized an old Spanish brazier of beaten copper,
standing on iron feet, which had been a purchase of his own in days when
he trifled with <i>bric-a-brac</i>. Upon it, a heap of some light material,
which fluttered and crackled as it burned, was blazing and smoking away,
while beside it--her profile set and waxen amid the drifts of smoke, her
fair hair blanched to whiteness by the strange illumination from below,
and all her slight form, checkered with the light and shade of the fire,
drawn into a curve of watchfulness, vindictive and intent--stood Kitty.

"What in the name of fortune are you doing, Kitty?" cried Ashe.

She made no answer, and he approached. Then he saw that in the centre
of the pile, an