ompelled to live in a humble cot
in the Vale of Avoca! He infinitely preferred his humdrum cottage in
Wiltshire. Indeed, I believe it has been proved against him that he had
never seen the Meeting of the Waters, and wrote about that famous scene
from hearsay. Ireland has never had a poet as Irish as Burns and Scott
were Scottish. Her whole-hearted, single-minded national bard has yet
to be born.

It was a relief, therefore, to Lord Mallow's active mind to find
himself in conversation with a young lady who really cared for his
subject and understood him. He could have talked to Lady Mabel for
ever. The limits of five-o'clock tea were far too narrow. He was
delighted when the Duchess paused as she was going away, and said:

"I hope you will come and see us at Ashbourne, Lord Mallow; the Duke
will be very pleased to know you."

Lord Mallow murmured something expressive of a mild ecstasy, and the
Duchess swept onward, like an Australian clipper with all sails set,
Lady Mabel gliding like a neat little pinnace in her wake.

Lord Mallow was glad when the next day's post brought him a card of
invitation to the ducal dinner on December the 31st. He fancied that he
was indebted to Lady Mabel for this civility.

"You are going, of course," he said to Violet, twisting the card
between his fingers meditatively.

"I believe I am asked."

"She is," answered Mrs. Winstanley, from her seat behind the urn; "and
I consider, under the circumstances, it is extremely kind of the
Duchess to invite her."

"Why?" asked Lord Mallow, intensely mystified.

"Why, the truth is, my dear Lord Mallow, that Violet is in an anomalous
position. She has been to Lady Southminster's ball, and a great many
parties about here. She is out and yet not out, if you understand."

Lord Mallow looked as if he was very far from understanding.

"She has never been presented," explained Mrs. Winstanley. "It is too
dreadful to think of. People would call me the most neglectful of
mothers. But the season before last seemed too soon alter dear Edward's
death, and last season, well"--blushing and hesitating a little--"my
mind was so much occupied, and Violet herself was so indifferent about
it, that somehow or other the time slipped by and the thing was not
done. I feel myself awfully to blame--almost as much so as if I had
neglected her confirmation. But early next season--at the very first
drawing-room, if possible--she must be presented, and then I shall fe