for it, that she must remember it was her dinner.  In vain she piped out in her soft, high voice, ’Oh, my lord!  I never eat meat in the middle of the day; I can hardly eat anything at lunch.’  Her voice was lost, and the duchess might go away with the idea that the Hollingford doctor’s wife dined early; that is to say, if her grace ever condescended to have any idea on the subject at all; which presupposes that she was cognizant of the facts of there being a doctor at Hollingford, and that he had a wife, and that his wife was the pretty, faded, elegant-looking woman sending away her plate of untasted food—­food that she longed to eat, for she was really desperately hungry after her drive and her solitude.

And then, after lunch, there did come a tete-a-tete with Lady Cumnor, which was conducted after this wise:—­

’Well, Clare!  I am really glad to see you.  I once thought I should never get back to the Towers, but here I am!  There was such a clever man at Bath—­a Doctor Snape—­he cured me at last—­quite set me up.  I really think if ever I am ill again I shall send for him:  it is such a thing to find a really clever medical man.  Oh, by the way, I always forget you’ve married Mr. Gibson—­of course he is very clever, and all that. (The carriage to the door in ten minutes, Brown, and desire Bradley to bring my things down.) What was I asking you?  Oh! how do you get on with the step-daughter.  She seemed to me to be a young lady with a pretty stubborn will of her own.  I put a letter for the post down somewhere, and I cannot think where; do help me to look for it, there’s a good woman.  Just run to my room, and see if Brown can find it, for it is of great consequence.’

Off went Mrs. Gibson rather unwillingly; for there were several things she had wanted to speak about, and she had not heard half of what she had expected to learn of the family gossip.  But all chance was gone; for when she came back from her fruitless errand, Lady Cumnor and the duchess were in full talk, Lady Cumnor with the missing letter in her hand, which she was using something like a baton to enforce her words.

‘Every iota from Paris!  Every i-o-ta!’

Lady Cumnor was too much of a lady not to apologize for useless trouble, but they were nearly the last words she spoke to Mrs Gibson, for she had to go out and drive with the duchess; and the brougham to take ‘Clare’ (as she persisted in calling Mrs. Gibson) back to Hollingford, followed the carriage to the door.  Lady Harriet came away from her entourage of young men and young ladies, all prepared for some walking expedition, to wish Mrs. Gibson good-by.

‘We shall see you at the ball,’ she said.  ’You’ll be there with your two girls, of course, and I must have a little talk with you there; with all these visitors in the house, it has been impossible to see anything of you to-day, you know.’

Such were the facts, but rose-colour was the medium through which they were seen by Mrs. Gibson’s household listeners on her return.