ly,
and that their marriage was settled for the autumn.

And this marriage, and the passing of the Bill for the Prevention of
Crime, were the two interests present in the mind of Irish landlordism
during the summer of '82. Immediately the former event was publicly
announced, every girl in Dublin ran to her writing desk to confirm to
her friends and relatives the truth of the news which for the last two
months she had so resolutely anticipated. The famous Bertha, the terror
of the _debutantes_, rushed to Brookfield, but she did not get there
before the Brennans, and the result was a meeting of these families of
girls in Mrs. Barton's drawing-room. Gladys was, however, the person
chosen by God and herself to speak the wonderful words:

'Of course you have heard the news, Mrs. Barton?'

'No,' replied Mrs. Barton, a little nervously; 'what is it?'

'Oh yes, what is it?' exclaimed Olive. 'Anyone going to be married?'

'Yes. Can you guess?'

'No; tell me quick . . . no, do tell me. Are you going to be married?'

Had Olive been suddenly dowered with the wit of Congreve she could not
have contrived an answer that would have shielded her better from the
dart that Gladys was preparing to hurl. The girl winced; and divining
the truth in a moment of inspiration, Mrs. Barton said:

'Ah! I know; Lord Kilcarney is engaged to Violet Scully.'

The situation was almost saved, and would have been had Olive not been
present. She glanced at her mother in astonishment; and Gladys, fearing
utter defeat, hurled her dart recklessly.

'Yes,' she exclaimed, 'and their marriage is fixed for this autumn.'

'I don't believe a word of it. . . . You only say so because you think it
will annoy me.'

'My dear Olive, how can it annoy you? You know very well you refused
him,' said Mrs. Barton, risking the danger of contradiction. 'Gladys is
only telling us the news.'

'News, indeed; a pack of lies. I know her well; and all because--because
she didn't succeed in hooking the man she was after in the Shelbourne
last year. I'm not going to listen to her lies, if you are;' and on
these words Olive flaunted passionately out of the room.

'So very sorry, really,' exclaimed Zoe. 'We really didn't know . . .
indeed we didn't. We couldn't have known that--that there was any reason
why dear Olive wouldn't like to hear that Lord Kilcarney was engaged to
Violet.'

'Not at all, not at all. I assure you that whatever question there may
once have been,