'You have seen her lately?' asked the elderly lady, in a casual tone.
'Yes; often at a hop in Willis's Rooms, at the camp balls, with the buckhounds, and at Mrs. Trelawney's.'
'Who is Mrs. Trelawney?' asked Lady Julia, languidly, while elevating her delicately pencilled eyebrows.
'A widow who lives near Aldershot, at a place called Chilcote Grange.'
'Ah!'
Jerry laughed softly, as he thought how familiar his lady-mother might have been with the fair widow's name had she not rejected his attention, and laughed him off cavalierly as he thought at the time.
'There is every reason in the world why we must have Miss Chevenix, mother,' persisted Jerry, colouring with vexation as he returned to the charge; 'she is highly accomplished, and sings well.'
'Taught well, no doubt—people of that kind send their children to the best schools now.
'I should like you to hear her voice.'
'Thanks—not here, at all events,' said Lady Julia, shrugging her shoulders, 'the girl must be forward enough—rides with the buckhounds, you say?'