room, with tall windows facing seawards. Miss McCroke was there too, standing at one of the windows taking up a dropped stitch in her knitting, while Mrs. Tempest walked

of perfection, whom a painter would have reverenced for her glow and splendour of colouring; but about whose beauty the common run of mankind, and

e’s on such a very large scale. She ought to be painted in fresco, you know, on a high cornice. As Autumn, or Ple

eam-white skin of hers, too, found objectors, on the score of a slight powdering of freckles; spots which the kindly sun leaves on the fruit he best loves. In fact, there were many reservations made by Miss Tempest’s pretended admirers when they summed up her good looks;

shoulders broad but finely sloping, her arms full and somewhat muscular, her hands not small, but exquisitely tapering, her foot long and narrow, her instep arched like a

said Mrs. Tempest, continuing a discussion that had be

ly. “It will break our hearts afresh when we g

see the dear old house

picture was in it — but — yes,” cried Vixen passionately, “I should like to go back. I should l

ch thing? When Manotti’s bill for the

s that my own hand gathers and carries to the grave t

od feeling — but the rich must have monuments. There could be not

ear Edward, even now; though she was beginning

t I think papa will l

. Tempest, “we will go back at the end of Novemb

wned des

tter to us whether there are two or three thousand extra people in t

age gaiety is good for

ings that are good, it’s very

ropped stitch in the previous argument; “I really think we ough

er governess Maria when she

ertainly,” said Miss McCroke, with some d

think of going,” protested Vixen earnest

ed Forbes, in the dusky end o

ouble of finishing my s

iss McCroke, and then came back to Vixen, who gave him a limp cold hand, with an indifference that was almost insolent, while Argus lifted his head an inch or so from the carpet and salu

ing of you, Captain Wins

ppiness for me,” mu

ble with one of those pretty tea-services which were her chief delight — a miniature silver tea

p of tea?” she sa

the society papers after drinking your tea, it is so inspiring. Addison ought to have drunk ju

ays I’m afraid we should think i

present day have spoiled our taste for fine

hing stronger than that. A little scandal about our neighbours, a racy article on field sports, some sharpish hits at the City, a libel or two upon men we know, a social article sailing very nea

n,” remarked Mrs. Tempest. “It’s al

else,” answered the capt

as you came in,” said Mrs. Tempest.

e ought,” sai

ounted thoroughbred. He had a long nose, a darkly-pale complexion, keen gray eyes under dark brows, dark hair, cropped close to his small head; thin lips, white teeth, a neat black moustache, and a strictly military appearance, though he had sold out of a line regiment three years ago, and was now a gentleman at large, doing nothing, and living in a gentleman-like manner on a

e went everywhere, and was liked wherever he went. He was gifted with that adaptability and hardiness which is, of all cleverness, most valuable in polite society. Of him, as of Goldsmith, it might be sai

n Coptic or Chinese, or calling upon him suddenly for Japanese or Persian; he dressed with perfect taste, and without the slightest pretence of dandyism; he could write a first-rate letter, and caricature his dearest friends of last year in pen and ink for the entertainmen

her friendship. Vixen took it into her obstinate young head to detest him. But then, Vixen, at seventeen and a half, was full of ridiculous dislikes and irrational caprices. Mrs. Tempest, in her lonely and s

been presented to her gracious sovereign. But Mrs. Tempest had set her heart upon Vixen’s going to the ball; or, in other words, she had set her heart upon going herself. On her way through Paris, in September, she had gone to Worth’s — out of curiosity, just to see what the great man’s salons were like — and there she had been tempted into the purchase of an artistic arrangement in black silk and jet, velvet and passementerie. She did not

ball. She had no positive objection. She would have liked the idea of the ball well enough perh

ain Winstanley, Violet,” said Mrs. T

I was extraordinarily civil. If you knew how I shoul

so prejudiced against him,” p

Argus’s. That man is destined to do us some grea

e with anger. “What have you to say against him? What fault can

like. He makes a trade of his gentlemanl

like Roderick Vawdrey, who talks

d Vixen. “Roderick is a man, and not to be name

astly to his disadvantage,” said the wi

h the Mortimers,” yawne

young heart two years ago had not healed so completely that she could find pleasure in inane conversation across