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Your friend considered himself at liberty to accuse me in private not by name, but by allusion, as you say of certain feelings and opinions derogatory to me. I have retaliated in public. I believe now you will own that I consult your convenience best by telling you that Major Macdonnel, of Tramore, is my friend in this matter.
Very great personal risk was incurred by Captain McRae. The Silver Medal was unanimously voted to him." "On the 16th August, 1890, about 12.30 p.m., two ladies had a narrow escape from drowning whilst bathing at Tramore, Co. Waterford. Mr. Jas.
Hasn't she mentioned that?" said Rose. "I haven't seen her." "I thought you were such great friends." Bertram Jay hesitated a moment. "Well, not so much now." "What has she done to you?" Rose demanded. He fidgeted a little, as if he were thinking of something that made him unconscious of her question; then, with mild violence, he brought out the inquiry: "Miss Tramore, are you happy?"
There is always a chance in things, and Rose Tramore's chance was in the fact that Gwendolen Vesey was, as some one had said, awfully modern, an immense improvement on the exploded science of her mother, and capable of seeing what a "draw" there would be in the comedy, if properly brought out, of the reversed positions of Mrs. Tramore and Mrs. Tramore's diplomatic daughter.
Rose turned away, blushing for her. "She came on speculation," she said afterwards to Mrs. Tramore. Her mother looked at her a moment in silence. "You can do it if you like, you know." Rose made no direct answer to this observation; she remarked instead: "See what our quiet life allows us to escape." "We don't escape it. She has been here an hour." "Once in twenty years!
"Sure I hoped you'd introduce me!" cried Mrs. Donovan, compromising herself in her embarrassment. "It's not necessary; you knew her once." "Indeed and I've known every one once," the visitor confessed. Mrs. Tramore, when she came in, was charming and exactly right; she greeted Mrs.
"Do you justify her, do you approve of her?" cried Miss Tramore, who was inferior to her niece in capacity for retort and whose limitations made the girl appear pert. Rose looked at her a moment in silence; then she said, turning away: "I think she's charming." "And do you propose to become charming in the same manner?" "Her manner is perfect; it would be an excellent model.
But London would give her no chance, would have nothing to say to her; as many persons had remarked, you could never tell how London would behave. It would not receive Mrs. Tramore again on any terms, and when she was spoken of, which now was not often, it was inveterately said of her that she went nowhere.
There were compensations for being "cut" which Mrs. Tramore too much neglected. The lonely old lady in Hill Street Rose thought of her that way now- -was the one person to whom she was ready to say that she would come to her on any terms. She wrote this to her three times over, and she knocked still oftener at her door.
Lady Maresfield had given her boy a push in his plump back and had said to him, "Go and speak to her now; it's your chance." She had for a long time wanted this scion to make himself audible to Rose Tramore, but the opportunity was not easy to come by. The case was complicated. Lady Maresfield had four daughters, of whom only one was married. It so happened moreover that this one, Mrs.
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