XXIII. WRATH AND DESOLATION.
XXIV. THE WANDERER.
XXV. VANISHED.
XXVI. THE TRACES.
XXVII. CYTHEREA'S BOWER.
XXVIII. THE ROUT.
XXIX. A BLACK BLONDEL.
XXX. THE FIRST TASK.
XXXI. THE SECOND TASK.
XXXII. LIONS.
XXXIII. THE COSMETIC.
XXXIV. DOWN THE RIVER.
XXXV. THE RETURN.
XXXVI. WAKING.
XXXVII. MAKING THE BEST OF IT.

LOVE AND LIFE.

CHAPTER I. A SYLLABUB PARTY.

Oft had I shadowed such a group
Of beauties that were born
In teacup times of hood and hoop,
And when the patch was worn;
And legs and arms with love-knots gay.
About me leaped and laughed
The modish Cupid of the day,
And shrilled his tinselled shaft.--Tennyson.

If times differ, human nature and national character vary but little;
and thus, in looking back on former times, we are by turns startled
by what is curiously like, and curiously unlike, our own sayings and
doings.

The feelings of a retired officer of the nineteenth century expecting
the return of his daughters from the first gaiety of the youngest
darling, are probably not dissimilar to those of Major Delavie, in the
earlier half of the seventeen hundreds, as he sat in the deep bay window
of his bed-room; though he wore a green velvet nightcap; and his whole
provision of mental food consisted of half a dozen worn numbers of the
_Tatler_, and a _Gazette_ a fortnight old. The chair on which he sat was
elbowed, and made easy with cushions and pillows, but that on which
his lame foot rested was stiff and angular. The cushion was exquisitely
worked in chain-stich, as were the quilt and curtains of the great
four-post bed, and the only carpeting consisted of three or four narrow
strips of wool-work. The walls were plain plaster, white-washed, and
wholly undecorated, except that the mantelpiece was carved with the
hideous caryatides of the early Stewart days, and over it were suspended
a long cavalry sabre, and the accompanying spurs and pistols; above them
the miniature of an exquisitely lovely woman, with a white rose in her
hair and a white favour on her breast.

The window was a deep one projecting far into the narrow garden below,
for in truth the place was one of those old manor houses which their
wealthy owners were fast deserting in favour of new specimens of
classical architecture as understood by Louis XIV., and the room in
which the Major sat was one