mor's unscrupulous
tongue would be as busy about her reputation as her ladyship had
represented, attempted to assert herself by refusing to obey the
command. It was in vain. Her ladyship dispensed with ambassadors,
and went in person to convey her orders to her husband's ward, and to
enforce them.

"What's this I am told?" quoth she, as she sailed into Hortensia's room.
"Do my wishes count for nothing, that you send me pert answers by my
woman?"

Hortensia rose. She had been sitting by the window, a book in her lap.
"Not so, indeed, madam. Not pert, I trust. I am none so well, and I fear
the sun."

"'Tis little wonder," laughed her ladyship; "and I'm glad on't, for it
shows ye have a conscience somewhere. But 'tis no matter for that. I
am tender for your reputation, mistress, and I'll not have you shunning
daylight like the guilty thing ye know yourself to be."

"'Tis false, madam," said Hortensia, with indignation. "Your ladyship
knows it to be false."

"Harkee, ninny, if you'd have the town believe it false, you'll show
yourself--show that ye have no cause for shame, no cause to hide you
from the eyes of honest folk. Come, girl; bid your woman get your hood
and tippet. The carriage stays for us."

To Hortensia her ladyship's seemed, after all, a good argument. Did she
hide, what must the town think but that it confirmed the talk that she
made no doubt was going round already. Better to go forth and brave it,
and surely it should disarm the backbiters if she showed herself in the
park with Lord Rotherby's own mother.

It never occurred to her that this seeming tenderness for her reputation
might be but wanton cruelty on her ladyship's part; a gratifying of her
spleen against the girl by setting her in the pillory of public sight
to the end that she should experience the insult of supercilious glances
and lips that smile with an ostentation of furtiveness; a desire to put
down her pride and break the spirit which my lady accounted insolent and
stubborn.

Suspecting naught of this, she consented, and drove out with her
ladyship as she was desired to do. But understanding of her ladyship's
cruel motives, and repentance of her own acquiescence, were not long in
following. Soon--very soon--she realized that anything would have been
better than the ordeal she was forced to undergo.

It was a warm, sunny morning, and the park was crowded with fashionable
loungers. Lady Ostermore left her carriage at the gates, and