eed, I should have objected to her presence; I should have
said she was a young lady out of her proper place."

"Yes; I understand. Is Miss Eyrecourt an only child?"

"She had two sisters, Father Benwell. One of them is in a convent."

"Ah, indeed?"

"And the other is dead."

"Sad for the father and mother, Miss Notman!"

"Pardon me, sad for the mother, no doubt. The father died long since."

"Aye? aye? A sweet woman, the mother? At least, I think I have heard
so."

Miss Notman shook her head. "I should wish to guard myself against
speaking unjustly of any one," she said; "but when you talk of 'a
sweet woman,' you imply (as it seems to me) the domestic virtues. Mrs.
Eyrecourt is essentially a frivolous person."

A frivolous person is, in the vast majority of cases, a person easily
persuaded to talk, and not disposed to be reticent in keeping
secrets. Father Benwell began to see his way already to the necessary
information. "Is Mrs. Eyrecourt living in London?" he inquired.

"Oh, dear, no! At this time of year she lives entirely in other people's
houses--goes from one country seat to another, and only thinks of
amusing herself. No domestic qualities, Father. _She_ would know nothing
of the order of the dishes! Lady Loring, I should have told you, gave
way in the matter of the sweetbread. It was only at quite the latter
part of my 'Menoo' (as the French call it) that she showed a spirit of
opposition--well! well! I won't dwell on that. I will only ask _you,_
Father, at what part of a dinner an oyster-omelet ought to be served?"

Father Benwell seized his opportunity of discovering Mrs. Eyrecourt's
present address. "My dear lady," he said, "I know no more when the
omelet ought to be served than Mrs. Eyrecourt herself! It must be very
pleasant, to a lady of her way of thinking, to enjoy the beauties of
Nature inexpensively--as seen in other people's houses, from the point
of view of a welcome guest. I wonder whether she is staying at any
country seat which I happen to have seen?"

"She may be in England, Scotland, or Ireland, for all I know," Miss
Notman answered, with an unaffected ignorance which placed her good
faith beyond doubt. "Consult your own taste, Father. After eating
jelly, cream, and ice-pudding, could you even _look_ at an oyster-omelet
without shuddering? Would you believe it? Her ladyship proposed to serve
the omelet with the cheese. Oysters, after sweets! I am not (as yet) a
married woman--"