No one, Lady Essendine least of all, thought for one moment of her
_protégée's_ fatigue, and the poor singer might have worked on till
she fainted from exhaustion had not the son of the house interposed.

"You must be tired, mademoiselle," said Lord Lydstone, coming up to
the piano. "Surely you would like a little refreshment? Let me take
you to the tea-room," and, offering his arm, he led her away, despite
his mother's black looks and frowns of displeasure.

"Lydstone is so impulsive," she whispered to the first confidant she
could find. It was Colonel Wilders, one of the family--a poor
relation, in fact, commonly called by them "Cousin Bill"--a hale,
hearty, middle-aged man, with grey hair he was not ashamed of, but
erect and vigorous, with a soldierly air. "I wish he would not
advertise himself with such a person in this way."

"A monstrously handsome person!" cried the blunt soldier, evidently
cordially endorsing Lord Lydstone's taste.

"That's not the question, Colonel Wilders; it was not my son's place
to take her to the tea-room, and I am much annoyed. Will you, to
oblige me, go and tell Lydstone I want to speak to him?"

Cousin Bill, docile and obsequious, hurried off to execute her
ladyship's commission. He found the pair chatting pleasantly together
in a corner of the deserted tea-room, and delivered his message.

"Oh, bother!" cried Lord Lydstone undutifully. "What can mother want
with me?"