s he. And there is your dear boy."

Lady Ardaragh frowned.

"Sir Arthur never knows how I look, what I put on," she said. "He was an
ardent lover enough, but now I do not think I could provoke him if I
tried. He simply does not think of me. An illuminated manuscript is more
to him than I am; and he would rather have a black-letter book than my
youth. As for my Robin, I adore him; but his fine nurse comes between
him and me. And to be sure, even if she didn't I have no time for
babies."

That was the way with Lady Ardaragh. Her moods changed from one minute
to another with incredible swiftness.

I had always had a great admiration for her, the pretty creature, and
when she had spoken of the illuminated manuscript I had a sudden vision
of her with her head of curls, and her pink, babyish face against a
background of pale gold.

To be sure her diversions, as even I knew, were something of the talk of
the countryside; and I have heard ladies say when they visited my
grandmother that it was a wonder Sir Arthur permitted it, but they would
be silent when they saw me. Yet my grandmother loved Lady Ardaragh, and
before my presence was noticed I have heard her say in a rebuking way
that her ladyship's ways were only the ways of a girl married to an
elderly, grave scholar.

I was tolerably sure that some time or other we should meet the Dawsons
in Lady Ardaragh's drawing-room, and I looked forward with horror to
seeing Richard Dawson again.

But as it chanced, I was to meet him otherwise, and in no very pleasant
fashion.

CHAPTER V

THE NURSE

It was a few days later that, coming in one afternoon, I found Miss
Champion with my grandmother and noticed that there was something odd in
the manner of both of them. Nor was I kept long in suspense about it,
for Miss Champion, who was the most candid person alive, could not long
keep a secret.

"Would you like to go to Dublin, Bawn?" she asked.

To Dublin! I could hardly have been more bewildered if she had asked me
would I like to go to the North Pole. Indeed, I had never contemplated
going so far. It would have been a great adventure to have gone even so
far as Quinn, our fair and market town, which lies on the other side of
the Purple Hill, seven miles away.

I stammered out that I should like to go to Dublin, looking from Mary
Champion's face to my grandmother's, for I could hardly believe that
the latter would consent to so tremendous an adventure.

"It i