nster, a cashmere shawl from Her Majesty, a basket of orchids,
valued at five hundred guineas, from Lady Ellangowan, a pair of
priceless crackle jars, a Sevres dinner-service of the old
_bleu-du-roi_, a set of knives of which the handles had all been taken
from stags slaughtered by the Southminster hounds.

"This is all very well for the wallflowers," said Captain Winstanley to
Violet, "but you and I are losing our dances."

"I don't much care about dancing," answered Vixen wearily.

She had been looking at this gorgeous display of bracelets and teacups,
silver-gilt dressing-cases, and ivory hairbrushes, without seeing
anything. She was thinking of Roderick Vawdrey, and how odd a thing it
was that he should seem so utter a stranger to her.

"He has gone up into the ducal circle," she said to herself. "He is
translated. It is almost as if he had wings. He is certainly as far
away from me as if he were a bishop."

They struggled back to the picture-gallery, and here Lady Ellangowan
took possession of Violet, and got her distinguished partners for all
the dances till supper-time. She found herself receiving a gracious
little nod from Lady Mabel Ashbourne in the ladies' chain. Neither the
lapse of two years nor the experience of foreign travel had made any
change in the hope of the Dovedales. She was still the same sylph-like
being, dressed in palest green, the colour of a duck's egg, with
diamonds in strictest moderation, and pearls that would have done
honour to a princess.

"Do you think Lady Mabel Ashbourne very beautiful?" Vixen asked Lady
Ellangowan, curious to hear the opinion of experience and authority.

"No; she's too shadowy for my taste," replied her ladyship, who was the
reverse of sylph-like. "Wasn't there someone in Greek mythology who
fell in love with a cloud? Lady Mabel would just suit that sort of
person. And then she is over-educated and conceited; sets up for a
modern Lady Jane Grey, quotes Greek plays, I believe, and looks
astounded if people don't understand her. She'll end by establishing a
female college, like Tennyson's princess."

"Oh, but she is engaged to be married to Mr. Vawdrey."

"Her cousin? Very foolish! That may go off by-and-by. First engagements
seldom come to anything."

Violet thought herself a hateful creature for being inwardly grateful
to Lady Ellangowan for this speech.

She had seen Roderick spinning round with his cousin. He was a good
waltzer, but not a graceful on