Margaret found her, wandering in the park—­very wild and pale—­told her the doctor’s verdict, and brought her home.  Kitty said little or nothing, and was presently persuaded to change her dress for Lord Parham’s arrival.  By the time the operation was over she was full as usual of smiles and chatter, with no trace apparently of the mood which had gone before.

Lord Parham found the house-party assembled on the lawn, with Kitty in a three-cornered hat, fantastically garnished at the side with a great plume of white cock’s feathers, presiding at the tea-table.

“Ah!” thought the Premier, as he approached—­“now for the tare in Ashe’s wheat!”

Nothing, however, could have been more gracious than Kitty’s reception of him, or more effusive than his response.  He took his seat beside her, a solid and impressive figure, no less closely observed by such of the habitual guests of the political country-houses as happened to be present, than by the sprinkling of local clergy and country neighbors to whom Kitty was giving tea.  Lord Parham, though now in the fourth year of his Premiership, was still something of a mystery to his countrymen; while for the inner circle it was an amusement and an event that he should be seen without his wife.

For some time all went well.  Kitty’s manners and topics were alike beyond reproach.  When presently she inquired politely as to the success of his Scottish tour, Lord Parham hoped he had not altogether disgraced himself.  But, thank Heaven, it was done.  Meanwhile Ashe, he supposed, had been enjoying the pursuits of a scholar and a gentleman?—­lucky fellow!

“He has been reading the Bible,” said Kitty, carelessly, as she handed cake.  “Just now he’s in the Acts.  That’s why, I suppose, he didn’t hear the carriage.  John!” She called a footman.  “Tell Mr. Ashe that Lord Parham has arrived!”

The Premier opened astonished eyes.

“Does Ashe generally study the Scriptures of an afternoon?”

Kitty nodded—­with her most confiding smile.  “When he can.  He says”—­she dropped her voice to a theatrical whisper—­“the Bible is such a ’d——­d interesting’ book!”

Lord Parham started in his seat.  Ashe and some of his friends still faintly recalled, in their too familiar and public use of this particular naughty word, the lurid vocabulary of the Peel and Melbourne generation.  But in a lady’s mouth the effect was prodigious.  Lord Grosville frowned sternly and walked away; Eddie Helston smothered a burst of laughter; the Dean, startled, broke off a conversation with a group of archaeological clergymen and came to see what he could do to keep Lady Kitty in order; while Lady Tranmore flushed deeply, and began a hasty conversation with Lady Edith Manley.  Meanwhile Kitty, quite unconscious, “went on cutting”—­or rather, dispensing “bread-and-butter”; and Lord Parham changed the subject.

“What a charming house!” he said, unwarily, waving his hand towards the Haggart mansion.  He was short-sighted, and, in truth, saw only that it was big.