es so much, herself. Yet, when all is said, 'tis not
she is to blame."

"Am I?"

"My love! Was it suggested?"

"I marvel it was not. Indeed, I marvel! Oh, Hortensia is not to blame,
the sweet, pure dove! What is she, then?"

"To be pitied, ma'am," said his lordship, stirred to sudden anger, "that
she should have lent an ear to your disreputable son."

"My son? My son?" cried her ladyship, her voice more and more strident,
her face flushing till the rouge upon it was put to shame, revealed in
all its unnatural hideousness. "And is he not your son, my lord?"

"There are moments," he answered hardily, "when I find it difficult to
believe."

It was much for him to say, and to her ladyship, of all people. It was
pure mutiny. She gasped for air; pumped her brain for words. Meantime,
his lordship continued with an eloquence entirely unusual in him and
prompted entirely by his strong feelings in the matter of his son. "He
is a disgrace to his name! He always has been. When a boy, he was a liar
and a thief, and had he had his deserts he had been lodged in Newgate
long ago--or worse. Now that he's a man, he's an abandoned profligate, a
brawler, a drunkard, a rakehell. So much I have long known him for; but
to-day he has shown himself for something even worse. I had thought that
my ward, at least, had been sacred from his villainy. That is the last
drop. I'll not condone it. Damn me! I can't condone it. I'll disown him.
He shall not set foot in house of mine again. Let him keep the company
of his Grace of Wharton and his other abandoned friends of the Hell Fire
Club; he keeps not mine. He keeps not mine, I say!"

Her ladyship swallowed hard. From red that she had been, she was now
ashen under her rouge. "And, is this wanton baggage to keep mine? Is she
to disgrace a household that has grown too nice to contain your son?"

"My lord! Oh, my lord, give me leave to go," Hortensia entreated.

"Ay, go," sneered her ladyship. "Go! You had best go--back to him. What
for did ye leave him? Did ye dream there could be aught to return to?"

Hortensia turned to her guardian again appealingly. But her ladyship
bore down upon her, incensed by this ignoring; she caught the girl's
wrist in her claw-like hand. "Answer me, you drab! What for did you
return? What is to be done with you now that y' are soiled goods? Where
shall we find a husband for you?"

"I do not want a husband, madam," answered Hortensia.

"Will ye lead apes in hell