rs fair, rounded, and dimpled,
while Mrs. Chiverton's tall frame, though very stately, was very bony,
and her little head and pale, classical face, her brown hair not
abundant, and eyes too cold and close together, with that expression of
intense pride which is a character in itself, required a taste
cultivated amidst statuary to appreciate. This taste Mr. Chiverton
possessed, and his wife satisfied it perfectly.

Bessie looked at Mr. Chiverton with curiosity, and looked quickly away
again, retaining an impression of a cur-like face with a fixed sneer
upon it. He was not engaged in conversation at the time; he was
contemplating his handsome wife with critical admiration, as he might
have contemplated a new acquisition in his gallery of antique marbles.
In his eyes the little girl beside her was a mere golden-haired, rosy,
plump rustic, who served as a foil to his wife's Minerva-like beauty.

Lady Angleby was great lady enough to have her own by-laws of etiquette
in her own house, and her nephew was assigned to take Miss Fairfax to
dinner. They sat side by side, and were wonderfully sociable at one end
of the table, with the hostess and Mr. Fairfax facing them at the other.
Besides the guests already introduced, there was one other gentleman,
very young--Sir Edward Lucas--whose privilege it was to escort Mrs.
Chiverton. Mr. Forbes gave his arm to Miss Burleigh. Mr. Chiverton and
Mr. Oliver Smith had no ladies: Lady Angleby liked a preponderance of
gentlemen at her entertainments. Everybody talked and was pleasant, and
Bessie Fairfax felt almost at ease, so fast does confidence grow in the
warm atmosphere of courtesy and kindness. When the ladies retired to the
drawing-room she was bidden to approach Lady Angleby's footstool, and
treated caressingly; while Mrs. Chiverton was allowed to converse on
philanthropic missions with Miss Burleigh, who yawned behind her fan and
marvelled at the splendor of the bride's jewels.

In the dining-room conversation became more animated when the gentlemen
were left to themselves. Mr. Chiverton loved to take the lead. He had
said little during dinner, but now he began to talk with vivacity, and
was heard with the attention that must be paid to an old man possessed
of enormous wealth and the centre of great connexions. He was accustomed
to this deference, and cared perhaps for none other. He had a vast
contempt for his fellow-creatures, and was himself almost universally
detested. But he