costume, my lady," she explained, as she closed some of the volumes.
"Is it settled?" said Lady Tranmore.
The maid replied that she believed so, and bringing a volume which had been laid aside with a mark in it, she opened on a fantastic plate of Madame de Longueville, as Diana, in a gorgeous hunting-dress.
Lady Tranmore looked at it in silence; she thought it unseemly, with its bare ankles and sandalled feet, and likely to be extremely expensive. For this Diana of the Fronde sparkled with jewels from top to toe, and Lady Tranmore felt certain that Kitty had already made William promise her the counterpart of the magnificent diamond crescent that shone in the coiffure of the goddess.
"It really seemed to be the only one that suited her ladyship!" said the maid, in a deprecating voice.
"I dare say it will look very well," said Lady Tranmore. "And Fanchette is to make it?"
"If her ladyship is not too late," said the maid, smiling. "But she has taken such a long time to make up her mind—"
"And Fanchette, of course, is driven to death. All the world seems to have gone mad about this ball."
Lady Tranmore shrugged her shoulders in a slight disgust. She was not going. Since her elder son's death she had had no taste for spectacles of the kind. But she knew very well that fashionable London was talking and thinking of nothing else; she heard that the print-room of the British Museum was every day besieged by an eager crowd of fair ladies, claiming the services of the Museum officials from dewy morn till eve; that historic costumes and famous jewels were to be lavished on the affair; that those who were not invited had not even the resource of contempt, so unquestioned and indubitable was the prospect of a really magnificent spectacle; and that the dressmakers of Paris and London, if they survived the effort, would reap a marvellous harvest.
"And Mr. Ashe—do you know if he is going, after all?" she asked of the maid as the latter was retreating.
"Mr. Ashe says he will, if he may wear just court dress," said the maid, smiling. "Not unless. And her ladyship's afraid it won't be allowed."
"She'll make him go in costume," thought Lady Tranmore. "And he will do it, or anything,—to avoid a scene."
The maid retired, and Lady Tranmore was left alone. As she sat waiting, a thought occurred to her. She rang for the butler.
"Where is the Times?" she asked, when he appeared. The man replied that it was no doubt in Mr. Ashe's room and he would bring it.
"Kitty has probably not looked at it," thought the visitor. When the paper arrived she turned at once to the Parliamentary report. It contained an important speech by Ashe, in the House, the night before. Lady Tranmore had been disturbed in the reading of it that morning, and had still a few sentences to finish. She read them with pride, then glanced again at the leading article on the debate, and at the nattering references it contained to the knowledge, courtesy, and debating power of the Under-Secretary for Foreign Affairs.
"Mr. Ashe," said the Times, "has well earned the promotion he is now sure to receive before long. In those important rearrangements of some of the higher offices which cannot long be delayed, Mr. Ashe is clearly marked out for a place in the cabinet. He is young, but he has already done admirable service; and there can be no question that he has a great future before him."
Lady Tranmore put down the paper and fell into a reverie. A great future?—yes!—if Kitty permitted—if Kitty could be managed. At present it appeared to William's mother that the caprices of his wife were endangering the whole development of his career. There were wheels within wheels, and the newspapers knew very little about them.
Three years, was it, since the marriage? She looked back to her dismay when William brought her the news, though it seemed to her that in some sort she had foreseen it from the moment of his first mention of Kitty Bristol,—with its eager appeal to her kindness, and that new and indefinable something in voice and manner which put her at once on the alert.
Ought she to have opposed it more strongly? She had indeed opposed it; and for a whole wretched week she who had never yet gainsaid him in anything
