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Mr. Ridsdale had never seen anything so near excitement in his aunt’s manner before. She spoke with little movements of her hands and of her head, and a pink flush was on her usually colourless face. The sight of this little flutter and commotion which he had caused amused the young man. Jeremie was still moving noiselessly about, letting down a loop of curtain, kindling a distant corner into visibility by lighting one of the groups of candles upon the wall. The room was still very dim, just made visible, not much more, and Jeremie’s noiseless presence did not check the expression of Lady Caroline’s sentiments. She made her little explanation with a fervour such as, we have said, her nephew had never before seen in her. He was greatly astonished, but he was also, it must be allowed, somewhat disposed to laugh.

“You must pardon me,” he said, “for suggesting anything you don’t like, Aunt Caroline. But did not Augusta have Miss Despard here?”

“Oh, yes—with the rest of her people who sang. Augusta was always having her singing people—who were not in our set at all.”