Lady Grosville did not answer. Ashe's look returned to her, and he was
startled by the expression of her face. He had always known and
unwillingly admired her for a fine Old Testament Christian, one from
whom the language of the imprecatory Psalms with regard to her enemies,
personal and political, might have flowed more naturally than from any
other person he knew, of the same class and breeding. But this
loathing--this passion of contempt--this heat of memory!--these were new
indeed, and the fire of them transfigured the old, gray face.

"I have known a fair number of bad people," said Lady Grosville, in a
low voice--"and a good many wicked women. But for meanness and vileness
combined, the things I know of the woman who was Blackwater's wife have
no equal in my experience!"

There was a moment's pause. Then Ashe said, in a voice as serious as her
own:

"I am sorry to hear you say that, partly because I like Madame
d'Estrées, and partly--because--I was particularly attracted by Lady
Kitty."

Lady Grosville looked up sharply. "Don't marry her, William!--don't
marry her! She comes of a bad stock."

Ashe recovered his gayety.

"She is your own niece. Mightn't a man dare--on that guarantee?"

"Not at all," said Lady Grosville, unappeased. "I was a hop out of kin.