Page:Harper's New Monthly Magazine - v109.djvu/631

Rh Margaret shrugged her shoulders. "I believe she will."

The older lady's face showed a sudden cloud of indignation.

"William must really put his foot down," she said, in a low, decided voice. "It is of course most important—just now—"

She said no more, but Margaret French looked up, and they exchanged glances.

"Let's hope," said Margaret, "that Mr. Ashe will be able to pacify her. Ah! there she is."

For the front door closed heavily, and instantly the house was aware from top to toe of a flutter of talk and a frou-frou of skirts. Kitty ran up the stairs and into the drawing-room, still talking, apparently to the footman behind her,—and stopped short at the sight of Lady Tranmore and Margaret. A momentary shadow passed across her face; then she came forward, all smiles.

"Why, they never told me downstairs!" she said, taking a hand of each caressingly, and slipping into a seat between them. "Have I lost much of you?"

"Well, I must soon be off," said Lady Tranmore—"Harry has been entertaining me."

"Oh! Harry!—is he there?" said Kitty, in another voice, perceiving the child behind his grandmother's dress as he sat on the floor, where Lady Tranmore had just deposited him.

The baby turned towards his beautiful mother, and as he saw her, a little wandering smile began to spread from his uncertain lips to his deep-brown eyes, till his whole face shone, held to hers as to a magnet, in a still enchantment. He made no effort to come to her; he sat merely motionless, wrapt in the vision of her.

"Come," said Kitty, holding out her hands.

With difficulty the child pulled himself towards her, moving in sideway fashion along the floor, and dragging the helpless foot after him. Again the shadow crossed Kitty's face. She caught him up, kissed him, and moved to ring the bell.

"Shall I take him up-stairs?" said Margaret.

"Why, he seems to have only just come down!" said Lady Tranmore. "Must he go?"

"He can come down again afterwards," said Kitty. "I want to talk to you. Take him, Margaret."

The babe went without a whimper, still following his mother with his eyes, as though even for his childish sense some strangeness mingled with the familiarity of her face and form.

"He looks rather frail," said Lady Tranmore—"I hope you'll soon be sending him to the country, Kitty."

"He's very well," said Kitty. Then she took off her hat and looked at the invitations Margaret had been writing.

"Heavens!—I had forgotten all about them. What an angel is Margaret! I really can't remember these things! They ought to do themselves by clockwork. And now Fanchette and this ball are enough to drive one wild!"

She lifted her hands to her face and pressed back the masses of fair hair that were tumbling round it, with a gesture of weariness.

"Fanchette can make your dress?"

"She says she will, but I couldn't make her understand anything I wanted. She is off her head! They all are. By the way, did you hear of Madeleine Alcot's telegram to Worth?"

"No."

Kitty laughed—a laugh musical but malicious. Mrs. Alcot, married in the same month as herself, had been her companion and rival from the beginning. They called each other "Kitty" and "Madeleine" and saw each other frequently; why, Lady Tranmore could never discover, unless on the principle that it is best to keep your enemy under observation.

"She telegraphed to Wörth as soon as her invitation arrived: 'Envoyez tout de suite costume Vénus. Réponse.' The answer came at dinner—she had a dinner-party—and she read it aloud: 'Remercîments. Il n'y en a pas.' Isn't it delightful?"

"Very neat!" said Lady Tranmore, smiling. "When did you invent that? You, I hear, are to be Diana?"

Kitty made a gesture of despair.

"Ask Fanchette!—it depends on her. There is no one but she in London who can do it. Oh ! by the way,—what's Mary going to be? I suppose a Madonna of sorts."