"Hum!" said she, and appeared to fall a-musing. Absently, as it seemed,
and slowly, she was pulling off her gloves.

"Feuds in families," she said, in a minute, "are bad things. Why don't
you make it up?"

The young man waved his hand, a pantomimic _non-possumus_.

"There's no one left to make it up with--the others are all dead."

"Oh?" she wondered, her eyebrows elevated, whilst automatically her
fingers continued to operate upon her gloves. "I thought the last lord
left a widow. I seem to have heard of a _Lady_ Blanchemain somewhere."

The young man gave still another of his little laughs.

"Linda Lady Blanchemain?" he said. "Yes, one hears a lot of her. A
highly original character, by all accounts. One hears of her
everywhere."

Linda Lady Blanchemain's lip began to quiver; but she got it under
control.

"Well?" she questioned--eyes fixing his, and brimming with a kind of
humorous defiance, as if to say, "Think me an impertinent old meddler
if you will, and do your worst,"--"Why don't you make it up with _her_?"

But he didn't seem to mind the meddling in the least. He stood at ease,
and plausibly put his case.