"And now, child, what\'s the town talk?" said Mistress Bellairs.

The nights were chilly, and a log crackled on the hearth. Kitty, in the most charming déshabillé, stretched a pink slippered foot airily towards the blaze.

"La, ma\'am," said Miss Lydia, as with nervous fingers she uncoiled one powdered roll and curl after another, "all the morning the gossip was upon Sir Jasper\'s meeting with Colonel Villiers at Hammer\'s Fields. And all the afternoon——" she paused and poised a brush.

"All the afternoon? Speak, child. You know," said her mistress piously, "that I had to spend my evening by the side of a dear sick friend."

"Well, ma\'am," said the maid, "the talk is all about your own marriage with the young Lord Verney."

"Mercy, girl," cried the lady with a little scream, "you needn\'t hit my head so hard with those bristles! What\'s taken you? And what do people think of that?"

"Why, ma\'am," said the Abigail, wielding her brush more tenderly, and permitting her irritation to betray itself only in the sharp snap of her voice, "my Lord Verney\'s man says he pities anyone that will have to go and live with her old la\'ship at Verney Hall."

"Ha!" said Kitty, and gave herself a congratulatory smile in the handglass.

"And Mr. Burrell, ma\'am, that\'s Lady Maria\'s butler, and a wise old gentleman he is, he says the marriage\'ll never take place, ma\'am, for neither his own la\'ship, nor the lady at Verney Hall, would allow of it, ma\'am."

"Oh, indeed?" exclaimed Mistress Bellairs, stiffening herself, "that\'s all they know about it! Lydia, you untruthful, impertinent girl, how dare you tell me such a story?"

"I\'m sure I beg your pardon, ma\'am," said Lydia, sniffing. "I\'m sure I up and told Mr. Burrell that if you\'d set your heart on wedding such a poor ninny as Lord Verney—I beg pardon, ma\'am, I\'m sure he\'ll be a very nice young nobleman, when his beard begins to grow—\'twas not likely a deaf old cat like his mistress could prevent him. And I told Lord Verney\'s man, ma\'am—and an impudent fellow he is—that you\'d soon teach the dowager her place, once you were mistress in Verney Hall."

"Well, well," said the lady, mollified, "and what says the rest of your Bath acquaintance?"

"Squire Juniper\'s head coachman says his master\'ll drink himself to death, as sure as eggs, on the day that sees you another\'s, ma\'am. He\'s been taking on terrible with Madeira ever since he\'s heard the news. And the Marquis\' running footman, he says \'that Lady Flyte\'ll have it all her own way with his lordship now, and mores the pity, for,\' says he, \'her la\'ship\'s not fit to hold a candle to the widow\'; excuse the language, he knows no better, his strength is mostly in his legs, ma\'am. And Mr. Stafford\'s jockey says, ma\'am, that in his opinion you\'re a lady as will never be drove again in double harness."

"Did he say so, indeed!" said Mistress Bellairs, reflectively. "Well, my good creature, and what say you?"

"La!" said the maid, and the brush trembled over her mistress\'s curls, "I say, ma\'am, that if you was to make such a sacrifice, you so young, and lovely, and so much admired, I humbly hopes you might pick out someone livelier than my Lord Verney."

"Now, whom," said Mistress Bellairs, in a tone of good-humoured banter, "would you choose, I wonder? What would you say to the Marquis, Lydia?"

"Oh, ma\'am! His lordship is a real nobleman—as the prize-fighters all say—and a better judge in the cockpit, Mr. Bantam, the trainer, says, never breathed, drunk or sober; and no doubt when he\'s sober, ma\'am, he\'d make as good a husband as most."

"Well, well, girl, enough of him. What of Mr. Stafford, now?"

"Oh, Mr. Stafford, ma\'am, that\'s a comely gentleman; not one bit of padding under his stockings, and an eye \'twould wheedle the very heart out of one\'s bosom! And, no doubt, if you ever thought of him, ma\'am, you\'d see that he paid off the little French milliner handsome. He\'s a very constant gentleman," said Miss Lydia, with a suspicion of spite.

"Pooh," cried the lady, and pushed her chair away from the fire, "what nonsense you do talk! And pray what thinks your wisdom of Mr. O\'Hara?"

"Lud! ma\'am," c............