after retired, nominally to make her toilet before
dinner; but really to escape the public and think it all over.

The news of her advancement had spread like wildfire; she was waylaid at
the very door by the housekeeper, who insisted on showing her her house.

"Nay, never mind the house," said Kate; "just show me one room where I
can wash my face and do my hair."

Mrs. Hill conducted her to the best bedroom; it was lined with tapestry,
and all the colors flown; the curtains were a deadish yellow.

"Lud! here's a colored room to show _me_ into," said the blonde Kate;
"and a black grate, too. Why not take me out o' doors and bid me wash in
the snow?"

"Alack, mistress," said the woman, feeling very uneasy, "we had no
orders from Mr. Gaunt to light fires _up_ stairs."

"O, if you wait for gentlemen's orders to make your house fit to live
in! You knew there were a dozen ladies coming, yet you were not woman
enough to light them fires. Come, take me to your own bedroom."

The woman turned red. "Mine is but a small room, my lady," she
stammered.

"But there's a fire in it," said Kate, spitefully. "You servants don't
wait for gentlemen's orders, to take care of yourselves."

Mrs. Hill said to herself, "I'm to leave; that's flat." However, she led
the way down a passage, and opened the door of a pleasant little room in
a square turret; a large bay window occupied one whole side of the room,
and made it inexpressibly bright and cheerful, though rather hot and
stuffy; a clear coal fire burned in the grate.

"Ah!" said Kate, "how nice! Please open those little windows, every one.
I suppose you have sworn never to let wholesome air into a room. Thank
you: now go and forget every cross word I have said to you,--I am out of
sorts, and nervous, and irritable. There, run away, my good soul, and
light fires in every room; and don't you let a creature come near me, or
you and I shall quarrel downright."

Mrs. Hill beat a hasty retreat. Kate locked the door and threw herself
backwards on the bed, with such a weary recklessness and _abandon_ as if
she was throwing herself into the sea, to end all her trouble,--and
burst out crying.

It was one thing to refuse to marry her old sweetheart; it was another
to take his property and reduce him to poverty. But here was she doing
both, and going to be persuaded to marry Neville, and swell his wealth
with the very possessions she had taken from Griffith; and him wounded
into the bar