and there, coolly and calmly. But she was really dismayed, for the first lady to whom Bertha had introduced her was mistress of the robes to the Queen and a niece of De Staffelaer’s. She had already been reflecting that it would be her duty to write to Mrs. van Eilenburgh, to send her word officially of her wish to be presented; and she had also reflected that the mistress of the robes was De Staffelaer’s niece. But the fact that the first lady to whom Bertha introduced her should be a blood-relation of the husband from whom she was divorced made her shiver superstitiously. She did not show this, however, and, without taking any great trouble to make herself amiable or sociable, she remained sitting where she was, so that Marianne now came up to her:
“How nice of you, Auntie, to look in on Mamma’s day.”
“She doesn’t mean a word of it,” thought Constance.
But it was awkwardness and astonishment, rather than insincerity, that made Marianne speak as she did. She could never have imagined that Aunt Constance should call on those at-home days, any more than the other aunts and uncles did, because their respective acquaintances were so entirely different.
“We were so busy in the spring, getting settled,” said Constance, very calmly. “You remember, the furniture had to come from Brussels. But this autumn I thought I would pay my respects to Mamma. After all, I can’t go on ignoring Mamma and only
