“Oh, I was just thinking about Miss Pamela Pounce!”
“And what of her?”
My Lady still uneasily remained cross.
“Oh, I only thought she looked honest!” said the girl. And not one other word to the purpose could my Lady Kilcroney extract from her.
They drove into Windsor in a strained silence and separated to their divers duties in no very cordial mood.
Kind-hearted people in positions of authority are apt to fall into the danger of doing good to their neighbours in spite of themselves. They see so clearly the value of the benefits they mean to confer, that fate having given them the power to enforce their acceptance, they do not hesitate to wield it. With the best intentions in the world they become tyrants. Kitty had a real desire to be of use to the orphan, and she was quite sure that the plans she had laid for her were entirely for her comfort and well-being. In any case matters had gone too far for Selina, even to dream of such a catastrophe as a withdrawal of her word.
The Maid-of-Honour had accepted Sir Jasper of her own free will. If she had secretly repented, if she chose to sulk and make a martyr of herself, Kitty knew better than to encourage her by seeming to notice it. And my Lady told herself that the moods of such a chit were of no account. She was too fresh out of the schoolroom to stand so much promotion all together—Maid-of-Honour, Bride-elect, the pet of royalty, all in a couple of months—a little spoilt cat, and if she scratched Jasper ’twould but do him a vast of good.
Nevertheless, my lady Kilcroney felt slightly uncomfortable until she next beheld the engaged couple together. Then, indeed—it was the next evening after their shopping drive to London, in my Lady’s own rooms—Selina appeared to have completely forgotten her gloomy fit. The child was in outrageous spirits, with quite scarlet cheeks, taunting and mocking her ardent lover, till he was beside himself.
Kitty forbore rebuke. In her relief she was full of indulgence towards behaviour which, at another time, she would have severely reprobated.
“My dear love,” she wrote to her husband that night. She was still in attendance at Windsor and Denis, very much injured, was alone at Hertford Street. “Everything is going as well as possible. Do not forget to call on Mr. Gunter’s about the wedding cake and on Mr. Bartolozzi about the tickets of invitation.”