y's smaller and newer residence; and frequent visits between
the two couples soon put them all on terms of friendly intimacy. Lettice
had always thought well of Mr. Dalton. He reminded her of Angleford, and
the happy days of her early youth. In London he had been genial with
her, and attentive, and considerate in every sense, so that she had been
quite at her ease with him. They met again without constraint, and under
circumstances which enabled Dalton to put forth his best efforts to
please her, without exciting any alarm in her mind, to begin with.

Edith Dalton captivated Lettice at once. She was a handsome woman of
aristocratic type and breeding, tall, slender, and endowed with the
graceful manners of one who has received all the polish of refined
society without losing the simplicity of nature. A year or two younger
than her brother, she had reached an age when most women have given up
the thought of marriage; and in her case there was a sad and sufficient
reason for turning her back upon such joys and consolations as a woman
may reasonably expect to find in wedded life. She had been won in her
girlhood by a man thoroughly fitted to make her happy--a man of wealth
and talent, and honorable service in the State; who, within a week of
their marriage day, had been thrown from his horse and killed. Edith had
not in so many words devoted herself to perpetual maidenhood; but that
was the outcome of the great sorrow of her youth. She had remained
single without growing morose, and her sweet and gentle moods endeared
her to all who came to know her.

With such a companion Lettice was sure to become intimate; or at any
rate, she was sure to respond with warmth to the kindly feeling
displayed for her. Yet there were many points of unlikeness between her
and Edith Dalton. She too was refined, but it was the refinement of
mental culture rather than the moulding of social influences. She too
retained the simplicity of nature, but it was combined with an outspoken
candor which Edith had been taught to shun. Where Lettice would be ready
to assert herself, and claim the rights of independence, Edith would
shrink back with fastidious alarm; where the one was fitted to wage the
warfare of life, and, if need be, to stand out as a champion or pioneer
of her sex, the other would have suffered acutely if she had been forced
into any kind of aggressive combat.

When Brooke told his sister that he had met a woman whom he could love,
she