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A Sere ty oral awian Wetarpara Joykushay Publia Libragy Govt. of ust Benga) ‘A Society Mothép “ Very well ; I dare say we shall meet to-mo night.” Her voice was utterly indifferent. “What do you think of him?” inquired D'Enville. Elated with his success, he was on the best of terms with himself and ready to be pleasant. “He is a strong man, who will allow nothing to stop him, Charles. Are you in his power?” He laughed. ‘“ What a notion! As if he was likely to harm me, even if he could. , We are very good friends now, and there is no reason we should not continue so. I have instructed Mr. Brabourne to place another five hundred to your credit every year on the strength of it, anyhow.” She shivered, though the room was hot, and got up. “T hope it is all mght. That’s all. Thanks for the money, it will be useful. A demain.” “ So long.” he returned, “sleep well.” He let himself out and descended the stairs, Summoning a passing hansom, he gave an address in South Kensington and drove off through the night. Upstairs, Mrs D’Enville rang the bell and ordered the man to shut up. She went to her bedroom, ’ opened a desk, and examined some papers with a vague idea of going tnrough her accounts. But after * a few minutes she desisted, and sitting down again, oper soe wander back through her youth to , and then again tried #% conjecture aidher her path was le-*?* he future. Meanwbil his destination. BMa? . test Wes & St yeu rier name was \ 36 A‘ Society Mother public, and many were the speculations as to het character indulged in by the gossips assembled in* conclave or in comfortable duologue in each other's houses. It is unnecessary to state that the lady had no remnant of character left since she chose to keep her affairs to herself and declined to make the acquaintance of any of her neighbours. No doubt she richly descrved the confidential innuendoes which reflected so gravely on her reputation, but neither she nor the reputation were affected. Charles D'Enville opened the front door with a latch-key and went upstairs without removing his hat and coat. He entered a room facing the top of the stairs, throwing the door back quickly, and called out : “ Here we are, Clare. A tall graceful woman, untidily dressed in a loose but obviously expensive tea-gown, rose from a sofa, She fitted the room somehow. Both gave an im- pression of money badly spent. The furniture was luxurious, but in execrable taste, and the wonian wore woollen bedroom slippers on her fect, and her hands were loaded with costly rings. These last constituted her only real extravagance, and she had bought them all herself, save one which D'Enville had given her. For fifteen years she had been in demand, at a salary of never less than forty pounds a week, for leading parts in musical comedy ; for she was beautiful in her own large, rather flabby way ; she possessed a swect contralto voice of great purity, and she could dance gracefully. Her in- tellect was negligible, her mind as simple and un- sophisticated as that of a child. There were only two passions in her life, The careful saving of half her eamnings—from a well-remembered horror of A Society Mother 37 early days of fearful poverty in a small provincial town—and Charles D’Enville, who had chanced to be attracted to her on her first appearance... She was easy-going and. good-natured, but ‘all other men—she necessarily had many admirers of alt ranks—failed to interest her, and no one else had ever succeeded in supplanting him. Her one idea was to get through her nightly performanec, which. thanks to a splendid constitution, never affected her health, and return home quictly to read a novel till bedtime---or the arrival of Charles D’Enville. She was entirely devoted to him, and she suited him perfectly. He went to her house to be abso- lutely free of all constraint or necessity to consider anything but himself. A clever woman could not have endured him for a week, but Clare was incapable even had she desired, of understanding character. He was always nice to her, he gave her occasional presents and as much of his society as he had time for, She asked nothing more, expected nothin; more. To-night she greeted him affectionately, removed his hat for him and his coat, then Jed him to her sofa, where they sat down, “Y’ve been having an important dinner-party,” he announced. “Have you, dear? With that woman there?" She always referred to Mrs. D’Enville in this way from a vague notion that she occupied her place, also that she should be, though she was not * jealous. . “Oh yes. Of course. But my fortune’s made ;"” he patted her hand kindly. ‘I shall be a million- aire before I know where I am.”