one single poisoned dart. But the evening was not ended yet. Inez's
time was to come. Enter the gentlemen presently, and flirtations are
resumed, _tete-a-tetes_ in quiet comers recommenced, conversation
becomes general. There is music. A certain Lord Verriker, the youngest
man present, and the greatest in social status, monopolizes Lady
Catheron. He leads her to the piano, and she sings. She is on trial
still, and does her best, and her best is very good--a sweet Scotch
ballad. There is quite a murmur of applause as she rises, and through
it there breaks Miss Catheron's soft, sarcastic laugh. The flush
deepens in Ethel's cheek--the laugh is at her performance she feels.

And now the hour of Inez's vengeance comes. Young Captain Varden is
leaning over her chair; he is in love with Miss Catheron, and hovers
about her unceasingly. He talks a great deal, though not very
brilliantly. He is telling her in an audible undertone how Jack
Singleton of "Ours" has lately made an object of himself before gods
and men, and irretrievably ruined himself for life by marrying the
youngest Miss Potter, of Potter's Park.

"Indeed!" Miss Catheron responds, with her light laugh, and her low,
clear voice perfectly distinct to all; "the youngest Miss Potter. Ah,
yes! I've heard of them. The paternal Potter kept a shop in Chester,
didn't he--a grocer, or something of the sort, and having made money
enough behind the counter, has retired. And poor Lieutenant Singleton
has married the youngest Miss Potter! 'Whom the gods wish to destroy
they first make mad.' A very charming girl no doubt, as sweet as the
paternal treacle, and as melting as her father's butter. It's an old
custom in some families--my own for instance--to quarter the arms of
the bride on the family shield. Now what do you suppose the arms of
the Potter family may be--a white apron and a pair of scales?"