ents to my
admiration gentle blue eyes, a pale complexion delicately touched with
color, a well-carried head crowned by lovely light brown hair. So far,
time helps the reviving past to come to life again--and permits nothing
more. I cannot say that I now remember the voice once so musical in my
ears, or that I am able to repeat the easy unaffected talk which once
interested me, or that I see again (in my thoughts) the perfect charm of
manner which delighted everybody, not forgetting myself. My unworthy
self, I might say; for I was the only young man, honored by an
introduction to Lady Lena, who stopped at admiration, and never made use
of opportunity to approach love.

On the other hand, I distinctly recollect what my stepmother and I said
to each other when our guests had wished us good-night.

If I am asked to account for this, I can only reply that the conspiracy
to lead me into proposing marriage to Lady Lena first showed itself on
the occasion to which I have referred. In her eagerness to reach her
ends, Mrs. Roylake failed to handle the fine weapons of deception as
cleverly as usual. Even I, with my small experience of worldly women,
discovered the object that she had in view.

I had retired to the seclusion of the smoking-room, and was already
encircled by the clouds which float on the heaven of tobacco, when I
heard a rustling of silk outside, and saw the smile of Mrs. Roylake
beginning to captivate me through the open door.

"If you throw away your cigar," cried this amiable person, "you will
drive me out of the room. Dear Gerard, I like your smoke."

My fat man in black, coming in at the moment to bring me some soda water,
looked at his mistress with an expression of amazement and horror, which
told me that he now saw Mrs. Roylake in the smoking-room for the first
time. I involved myself in new clouds. If I suffocated my stepmother, her
own polite equivocation would justify the act. She settled herself
opposite to me in an armchair. The agonies that she must have suffered,
in preventing her face from expressing emotions of disgust, I dare not
attempt to imagine, even at this distance of time.

"Now, Gerard, let us talk about the two ladies. What do you think of my
friend, Lady Rachel?"

"I don't like your friend, Lady Rachel."

"You astonish me. Why?"

"I think she's a false woman."

"Heavens, what a thing to say of a lady--and that lady my friend! Her
politics may very reasonably have surprised yo