Miss Rylance had become a disciple of the peacock-feather school of art,
and affected to despise every other development of intellect, or beauty.

This was the first time that she and Ida had met since the latter's
return to Kingthorpe, except indeed for briefest greetings in the
churchyard after morning service. Ida had not yet upbraided her for the
trick of which she was the author and originator, but Urania was in no
wise grateful for this forbearance. She had acted with deliberate
maliciousness; and she wanted to know that her malice had given pain. The
whole thing was a failure if it had not hurt the girl who had been
audacious enough to outshine Miss Rylance, and to fascinate Miss
Rylance's father. Urania had no idea that the physician had offered
himself and his two houses to Ida Palliser, nay, had even pledged himself
to sacrifice his daughter at the shrine of his new love. She knew that he
admired Miss Palliser more than he had ever admired anyone else within
her knowledge, and this was more than enough to make Ida hateful.

Ida was particularly obnoxious this evening, in that pale pink cashmere
gown, with a falling collar of fine old Brussels point, a Christmas gift
from Mrs. Wendover. The gown might not be the highest development of the
Grosvenor Gallery school, but it was at once picturesque and becoming,
and Ida was looking her loveliest.

'Why have you never come to see me since your return?' inquired Urania,
with languid graciousness.

'I did not think you wanted me,' Ida answered, coolly.

'I am always glad to see my friends. I stop at home on Thursday
afternoons on purpose; but perhaps you have not quite forgiven Bess and