upon her, but who, late as it was, had not yet arrived.  They came in at last.  But Lady Clonbrony had no reason to regret for their sake the statira couch.  It would have been lost upon them, as was everything else which she had prepared with so much pains and cost to excite their admiration, They came resolute not to admire.  Skilled in the art of making others unhappy, they just looked round with an air of apathy.  ’Ah! you’ve had Soho!—­Soho has done wonders for you here!  Vastly well!—­Vastly well!—­Soho’s very clever in his way!’

Others of great importance came in, full of some slight accident that had happened to themselves, or their horses, or their carriages; and, with privileged selfishness, engrossed the attention of all within their sphere of conversation.  Well, Lady Clonbrony got over all this, and got over the history of a letter about a chimney that was on fire, a week ago, at the Duke of V’s old house, in Brecknockshire.  In gratitude for the smiling patience with which she listened to him, his Grace of V—­fixed his glass to look at the Alhambra, and had just pronounced it to be ‘Well!—­very well!’ when the Dowager Lady Chatterton made a terrible discovery—­a discovery that filled Lady Clonbrony with astonishment and indignation—­Mr. Soho had played her false!  What was her mortification when the dowager assured her that these identical Alhambra hangings had not only been shown by Mr. Soho to the Duchess of Torcaster, but that her grace had had the refusal of them, and had actually rejected them, in consequence of Sir Horace Grant the great traveller’s objecting to some of the proportions of the pillars.  Soho had engaged to make a new set, vastly improved, by Sir Horace’s suggestions, for her Grace of Torcaster.

Now Lady Chatterton was the greatest talker extant; and she went shout the rooms telling everybody of her acquaintance—­and she was acquainted with everybody—­how shamefully Soho had imposed upon poor Lady Clonbrony, protesting she could not forgive the man.  ‘For,’ said she,’though the Duchess of Torcaster has been his constant customer for ages, and his patroness, and all that, yet this does not excuse him and Lady Clonbrony’s being a stranger, and from Ireland, makes the thing worse.’  From Ireland!—­that was the unkindest cut of all but there was no remedy.

In vain poor Lady Clonbrony followed the dowager about the rooms, to correct this mistake, and to represent, in justice to Mr. Soho, though he had used her so ill, that he knew she was an Englishwoman, The dowager was deaf, and no whisper could reach her ear.  And when Lady Clonbrony was obliged to bawl an explanation in her car, the dowager only repeated—­

’In justice to Mr. Soho!—­No, no; he has not done you justice, my dear Lady Clonbrony! and I’ll expose him to everybody.  Englishwoman—­no, no, no!—­Soho could not take you for an Englishwoman!’

All who secretly envied or ridiculed Lady Clonbrony enjoyed this scene.  The Alhambra hangings, which had been, In one short hour before, the admiration of the world, were now regarded by every eye with contempt, as cast hangings, and every tongue was busy declaiming against Mr. Soho; everybody declared that, from the first, the want of proportion had ’struck them, but that they would not mention it till others found it out.’