continued with more or less of success
till the end of August, when a newspaper announcement informed them
that Henry Meynell had been married a fortnight before at Rome to his
cousin Miss Susan Meynell, a lady some years older than himself, who
had always lived with his uncle as the prime favourite, and had
accompanied him to the Continent that year, on a journey undertaken
for his health. Henry had joined them not long before, in a state of
great poverty, but by the influence of an old preference which the
lady entertained for him, he had been reconciled to his uncle, who
made a comfortable settlement upon his favourite and the professedly
reformed prodigal. The news of his conduct to the Warings had not
reached the old man at that time.

Lady Waring was astonished, indeed alarmed at the calmness with which
Kate appeared to receive the news of the consummation of Henry
Meynell's treacherous desertion. For an hour or two she seemed
depressed and absent, but afterwards set about the usual pursuits of
the day without any apparent change of manner. They were to be present
at a large ball that night; and Lady Waring could not but wonder when
she saw her daughter busied in arranging some simple ornaments for the
dress she was to wear, and preparing for the evening gaieties as if
nothing had occurred to disturb the current of her thoughts. At the
ball she entered into the spirit of the dance with apparently more
than usual zest: some among the many who sought her, almost fancied
they were gaining ground in her good graces, and that this unwonted
gaiety was the result of her being pleased with them. Her mother
watched her with alarm and surprise; her cheek was flushed, her eye
bright, her smile beaming on all around her. Was this real or unreal?
Could one so fair and good be without heart, and indifferent to the
unworthiness of him to whom she had given her troth?

The weary ball is at last ended,--they reach home,--she bids her
mother good-night; as they separate, her cheek flushes furiously, and
her eye is brighter than ever, but she speaks quite calmly--so calmly,
indeed, that her mother is almost re-assured, and overcome with
fatigue lies down to rest and sleeps. Kate occupies the adjoining
room.

At about six o'clock in the morning, Lady Waring, awoke from a
troubled and unrefreshing sleep. She fancied she heard light footsteps
in her daughter's chamber; they seemed regular and measured, as of
some one pacing slowly.