from the calm closed lips
of his mistress), "poor mortals are not in the habit of climbing Olympus
to ask favours."

"I perceived no barrier," quoth Laura.

"Audacity never does."

"Pray, how am I to be punished?"

Freshfield paused for a potent stroke. "Not like Semele. She saw the
God:--you never will!"

While Laura was hanging on the horrid edge between a false laugh and
a starting blush, Arabella said: "That visual excommunication has been
pronounced years ago, Freshfield."

"Ah! then he hasn't changed his name in heaven?" Laura touched her thus
for the familiar use of the gentle-man's Christian name.

"You must not imagine that very great changes are demanded of those who
can be admitted."

"I really find it hotter than below," said Laura, flying.

Arabella's sharp eyes discerned a movement in Lady Gosstre's circle; and
she at once went over to her, and entreated the great lady, who set her
off so well, not to go. The sunset fronted Besworth Lawn; the last light
of day was danced down to inspiriting music: and now Arabella sent word
for Besworth hall-doors and windows to be opened; and on the
company beginning to disperse, there beckoned promise of a brilliant
supper-table.

"Admirable!" said Lady Gosstre, and the encomium was general among the
crowd surrounding Arabella; for up to this point the feasting had been
delicate, and something like plain hunger prevailed. Indeed, Arabella
had heard remarks of a bad nature, which she traced to the Tinley set,
and bore with, to meet her present reward. Making light of her triumph,
she encouraged Freshfield to start a wit-contest, and took part in
it herself, with the gaiety of an unoccupied mind. Her sisters had
aforetime more than once challenged her supremacy, but they bowed to it
now; and Adela especially did when, after a ringing hit to Freshfield
(which the Tinleys might also take to their own bosoms), she said in
an undertone, "What is there between C. and--?" Surprised by this
astonishing vigilance and power of thinking below the surface while
she performed above it, Adela incautiously turned her face toward the
meditative baronet, and was humiliated by Arabella's mute indication
of contempt for her coming answer. This march across the lawn to the
lighted windows of Besworth was the culmination of Brookfield's joy, and
the crown for which it had striven; though for how short a term it was
to be worn was little known. Was it not a very queenly sphere of