ejoice in arrows," like the Homeric Artemis--why are they nearly
always so well stricken in years? Was Maid Marion forty at least before
her performances obtained for her a place in the well-known band of
Hood, Tuck, Little John, and Co.?

This, however, is a digression. For our purpose it is enough that the
contrast between Miss Widdicombe's vivacity and the deadly stolidity
of the County families, between her youth and the maturity of her
vanquished competitors, entirely won the heart of Mr. St John
Deloraine. He saw--he loved her--he was laughed at--he proposed--he was
accepted--and, oh, shame! the County had to accept, more or less, Miss
Widdicombe, the attorney's daughter, as _chatelaine_ (delightful word,
and dear to the author of _Guy Livingstone_) of Wentley Deloraine.

When the early death of her husband threw Mrs. St John Deloraine almost
alone on the world (for her family had, naturally, been offended by her
good fortune), she left the gray old squarsonage, and went to town. In
London, Mrs. St John Deloraine did not find people stiff, With a good
name, an impulsive manner, a kind heart, a gentle tongue, and plenty
of money, she was welcome almost everywhere, except at the big County
dinners which the County people of her district give to each other when
they come to town.

This lady, like many of us, had turned to charity and philanthropy
in the earlier days of her bereavement; but, unlike most of us, her
benevolence had not died out with the sharpest pangs of her sorrow.
Never, surely, was there such a festive philanthropist as Mrs. St. John
Deloraine.

She would go from a garden-party to a mothers' meeting; she was great
at taking children for a day in the country, and had the art of keeping
them amused. She was on a dozen charitable committees, belonged to at
least three clubs, at which gentlemen as well as ladies of fashion were
eligible, and where music and minstrelsy enlivened the after-dinner
hours.

So good and unsuspecting, unluckily, was Mrs. St. John Deloraine,
that she made bosom friends for life, and contracted vows of eternal
sympathy, wherever she went. At Aix, or on the Spanish frontier, she
has been seen enjoying herself with acquaintances a little dubious, like
Greek texts which, if not absolutely corrupt, yet stand greatly in need
of explanation. It is needless to say that gentlemen of fortune, in the
old sense--that is, gentlemen in quest of a fortune--pursued hotly or
artfully after