Henry looked grimly at the Frenchman.

"M. du Bartas, I am charmed to make your acquaintance. With your leave,
I will pursue it when I am better able to profit by it. To-morrow I will
write to you to propose another meeting--should my health allow."

"Enchante, madame," murmured the Frenchman, more embarrassed than he had
ever been in his life. "Permettez--moi de vous faire mes plus sinceres
excuses."

"Not at all, monsieur, you owe me none."

Montresor again approached her.

"Let me tell you," he said, imploringly, "how this has happened--how
innocent we all are--"

"Another time, if you please," she said, with a most cutting calm. "As I
said before, it is late. If I had been equal to entertaining you"--she
looked round upon them all--"I should not have told my butler to make my
excuses. As it is, I must beg you to allow me to bid you good-night.
Jacob, will you kindly get the Duchess her cloak? Good-night.
Good-night. As you see"--she pointed to the sticks which supported
her--"I have no hands to-night. My infirmities have need of them."

Montresor approached her again, in real and deep distress.

"Dear Lady Henry--"

"Go!" she said, under her breath, looking him in the eyes, and he turned
and went without a word. So did the Duchess, whimpering, her hand in
Delafield's arm. As she passed Julie, who stood as though turned to
stone, she made a little swaying movement towards her.

"Dear Julie!" she cried, imploringly.

But Lady Henry turned.

"You will have every opportunity to-morrow," she said. "As far as I am
concerned, Miss Le Breton will have no engagements."

Lord Lackington quietly said, "Good-night, Lady Henry," and, without
offering to shake hands, walked past her. As he came to the spot where
Julie Le Breton stood, that lady made a sudden, impetuous movement
towards him. Strange words were on her lips, a strange expression
in her eyes.

"_You_ must help me," she said, brokenly. "It is my right!"

Was that what she said? Lord Lackington looked at her in astonishment.
He did not see that Lady Henry was watching them with eagerness, leaning
heavily on her sticks, her lips parted in a keen expectancy.

Then Julie withdrew.

"I beg your pardon," she said, hurriedly. "I beg your pardon.
Good-night."

Lord Lackington hesitated. His face took a puzzled expression. Then he
held out his hand, and she placed hers in it mechanically.

"It will be all right," he whispered, kindly. "Lady Henry will