"
"Lady Ludlow," said I, "what had she to do with you? I heard you
talking about her to Lady Madeline Stuart the first evening I ever
came here; you and she seemed so fond of Lady Ludlow; who is she?"
"She is dead, my child; dead long ago."
I felt sorry I had spoken about her, Mrs. Dawson looked so grave and
sad. I suppose she perceived my sorrow, for she went on and said--
"My dear, I like to talk and to think of Lady Ludlow: she was my
true, kind friend and benefactress for many years; ask me what you
like about her, and do not think you give me pain."
I grew bold at this.
"Will you tell me all about her, then, please, Mrs. Dawson?"
"Nay," said she, smiling, "that would be too long a story. Here are
Signor Sperano, and Miss Duncan, and Mr. and Mrs. Preston are coming
to-night, Mr. Preston told me; how would they like to hear an old-
world story which, after all, would be no story at all, neither
beginning, nor middle, nor end, only a bundle of recollections?"
"If you speak of me, madame," said Signor Sperano, "I can only say
you do me one great honour by recounting in my presence anything
about any person that has ever interested you.
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