tself, her whiskers
bristling? That's my stepdaughter's attitude towards me, and I daresay
before long I hall feel her claws. There goes the gong, and we must go
too. I'm sorry Miss Tempest has been such a fool, Mallow; but I must
repeat my congratulations, even at the risk of offending you."

There were no duets that evening. Vixen was as cold as ice, and as
silent as a statue. She sat in the shadow of her mother's arm-chair
after dinner, turning over the leaves of Dore's "Tennyson," pausing to
contemplate Elaine with a half-contemptuous pity--a curious feeling
that hurt her like a physical pain.

"Poor wretch!" she mused. "Are there women in our days so weak as to
love where they can never be loved again, I wonder? It is foolish
enough in a man; but he cures himself as quickly as the mungoose that
gets bitten by a snake, and runs away to find the herb which is an
antidote to the venom, and comes back ready to fight the snake again."

"Are we not going to have any music?" asked Mrs. Winstanley languidly,
more interested in the _picots_ her clever needle was executing on a
piece of Italian point than in the reply. "Lord Mallow, cannot you
persuade Violet to join you in one of those sweet duets of
Mendelssohn's?"

"Indeed, mamma, I couldn't sing a note. I'm as husky as a raven."

"I'm not surprised to hear it," said the Captain, looking up from his
study of _The Gardener's Chronicle_. "No doubt you managed to catch
cold last night, while you were mooning upon the terrace with young
Vawdrey."

"How very incautious of you, Violet!" exclaimed Mrs. Winstanley, in her
complaining tone.

"I was not cold, mamma; I had my warm cloak."

"But you confess you have caught cold. I detest colds; they always go
through a house. I shall be the next victim, I daresay; and with me a
cold is martyrdom. I'm afraid you must find us very dull, Lord Mallow,
for New Year's Day, when people expect to be lively. We ought to have
had a dinner-party."

"My dear Mrs. Winstanley, I don't care a straw about New Year's Day,
and I am not in a lively vein. This quiet evening suits me much better
than high jinks, I assure you."

"It's very good of you to say so."

"Come and play a game of billiards," said Captain Winstanley, throwing
down his paper.

"Upon my honour, I'd rather sit by the fire and watch Mrs. Winstanley
at her point-lace. I'm in an abominably lazy mood after my tramp in
those soppy plantations." answered Lord Mallow, who fe