ce in Ireland, and to be sent to Castle Clare is
almost like being sent to the Bastille. She'll never get out alive.
She'll have to stay there and see herself grow thin instead of slim, and
colourless instead of fair. Her little nose will grow sharp, and she
will lose her hair by degrees."

"Oh!" Emily Fox-Seton gave forth sympathetically. "What a pity that
would be! I thought--I really thought--Lord Walderhurst seemed to admire
her."

"Oh, every one admires her, for that matter; but if they go no further
that will not save her from the Bastille, poor thing. There, Emily; we
must go to bed. We have talked enough."

Chapter Three

To awaken in a still, delicious room, with the summer morning sunshine
breaking softly into it through leafy greenness, was a delightful thing
to Miss Fox-Seton, who was accustomed to opening her eyes upon four
walls covered with cheap paper, to the sound of outside hammerings, and
the rattle and heavy roll of wheels. In a building at the back of her
bed-sitting-room there lived a man whose occupation, beginning early in
the morning, involved banging of a persistent nature.

She awakened to her first day at Mallowe, stretching herself
luxuriously, with the smile of a child. She was so thankful for the
softness of her lavender-fragrant bed, and so delighted with the lovely
freshness of her chintz-hung room. As she lay upon her pillow, she could
see the boughs of the trees, and hear the chatter of darting starlings.
When her morning tea was brought, it seemed like nectar to her. She was
a perfectly healthy woman, with a palate as unspoiled as that of a
six-year-old child in the nursery. Her enjoyment of all things was so
normal as to be in her day and time an absolute abnormality.

She rose and dressed at once, eager for the open air and sunshine. She
was out upon the lawn before any one else but the Borzoi, which rose
from beneath a tree and came with stately walk toward her. The air was
exquisite, the broad, beautiful stretch of view lay warm in the sun, the
masses of flowers on the herbaceous borders showed leaves and
flower-cups adorned with glittering drops of dew. She walked across the
spacious sweep of short-cropped sod, and gazed enraptured at the country
spread out below. She could have kissed the soft white sheep dotting the
fields and lying in gentle, huddled groups under the trees.

"The darlings!" she said, in a little, effusive outburst.

She talked to the dog and f