ianoforte recitals. Why should I drag you there?'

'But, my dearest Lesbia, I am not such a selfish wretch as to keep you
at home, when I know you are passionately fond of good music. Forget all
about your headache, and let me see how that lovely little Catherine of
Aragon bonnet suits you. I'm so glad I happened to see it in Seraphine's
hands yesterday, just as she was going to send it to Lady Fonvielle, who
gives herself such intolerable airs on the strength of a pretty face,
and always wants to get the _primeures_ in bonnets and things.'

'Another new bonnet!' replied Lesbia. 'What an infinity of things I seem
to be having from Seraphine. I'm afraid I must owe her a good deal of
money.'

This was a vague way of speaking about actual facts. Lady Lesbia might
have spoken with more certainty. Her wardrobes and old-fashioned hanging
closets and chests of drawers in Arlington Street were crammed to
overflowing with finery; and then there were all the things that she had
grown tired of, or had thought unbecoming, and had given away to Kibble,
her own maid, or to Rilboche, who had in a great measure superseded
Kibble on all important occasions; for how could a Westmoreland girl
know how to dress a young lady for London balls and drawing-rooms?

'If you had only accepted Mr. Smithson it would not matter how much
money you owed people,' said Lady Kirkbank. 'You had better come down to
lunch. A glass of Heidseck will bring you up to concert pitch.'

Champagne was Lady Kirkbank's idea of a universal panacea; and she had
gradually succeeded in teaching Lesbia to believe in the sovereign power
of Heidseck as a restorative for shattered nerves. At Fellside Lesbia
had drunk only water; but then at Fellside she had never known that
feeling of exhaustion and prostration which follows days and nights
spent in society, the wear and tear of a mind forever on the alert, and
brilliant spirits which are more often forced than real. For her chief
stimulant Lesbia had recourse to the teapot; but there were occasions
when she found that something more than tea was needed to maintain that
indispensable vivacity of manner which Lady Kirkbank called concert
pitch.

To-day she allowed herself to be persuaded. She went down to luncheon,
and took a couple of glasses of dry champagne with her cutlet, and, thus
restored, was equal to putting on the new bonnet, which was so becoming
that her spirits revived as she contemplated the effect in her g