But she is like poor Sir John--he
was so very particular about his own things, was Sir John. Is Lady
Cheverel particular?'

'Rather. But Mrs. Sharp has been her maid twenty years.'

'I wish there was any chance of our keeping Griffin twenty years. But I
am afraid we shall have to part with her because her health is so
delicate; and she is so obstinate, she will not take bitters as I want
her. _You_ look delicate, now. Let me recommend you to take camomile tea
in a morning, fasting. Beatrice is so strong and healthy, she never takes
any medicine; but if I had had twenty girls, and they had been delicate,
I should have given them all camomile tea. It strengthens the
constitution beyond anything. Now, will you promise me to take camomile
tea?'

'Thank you: I'm not at all ill,' said Caterina. 'I've always been pale
and thin.'

Lady Assher was sure camomile tea would make all the difference in the
world--Caterina must see if it wouldn't--and then went dribbling on like
a leaky shower-bath, until the early entrance of the gentlemen created a
diversion, and she fastened on Sir Christopher, who probably began to
think that, for poetical purposes, it would be better not to meet one's
first love again, after a lapse of forty years.

Captain Wybrow, of course, joined his aunt and Miss Assher, and Mr.
Gilfil tried to relieve Caterina from the awkwardness of sitting aloof
and dumb, by telling her how a friend of his had broken his arm and
staked his horse that morning, not at all appearing to heed that she
hardly listened, and was looking towards the other side of the room. One
of the tortures of jealousy is, that it can never turn its eyes away from
the thing that pains it.

'By-and-by every one felt the need of a relief from chit-chat--Sir
Christopher perhaps the most of all--and it was he who made the
acceptable proposition--

'Come, Tina, are we to have no music to-night before we sit down to
cards? Your ladyship plays at cards, I think?' he added, recollecting
himself, and turning to Lady Assher.

'O yes! Poor dear Sir John would have a whist-table every night.'

Caterina sat down to the harpsichord at once, and had no sooner begun to
sing than she perceived with delight that Captain Wybrow was gliding
towards the harpsichord, and soon standing in the old place. This
consciousness gave fresh strength to her voice; and when she noticed that
Miss Assher presently followed him with that air of ostentatious
admiration