hey will end by
creating a most voluptuous and splendid tableau. O'Reilly's counsellors
were rather adepts in their way, and certainly they did not forget
one single ingredient of pleasure; till, when the boat glided into the
little bay of the D'Este, such a story of a life was sketched out as
nothing out of fairy-land could rival.

"I 'll have it, my Lord; the place is as good as mine this minute," said
O'Reilly, as he stepped on shore; and as he spoke his heart thrilled
with the concentrated delights of a whole life of happiness.

CHAPTER X. A "SMALL DINNER"

Lady Lackington and Lady Grace Twining passed the morning together.
Their husbands' departure on the picnic excursion offered them a
suitable subject to discuss those gentlemen, and they improved the
occasion to some purpose.

The Viscountess did not, indeed, lean very heavily on her Lord's
failings; they were, as she described them, the harmless follies of
certain middle-aged gentlemen, who, despite time and years, would still
be charming and fascinating. "He likes those little easy conquests he
is so sure of amongst vulgar people," said she. "He affects only to
be amused by them, but he actually likes them; and then, as he never
indulges in this sort of thing except in out-of-the-way places, why,
there 's no great harm in it."

Lady Grace agreed with her, and sighed. She sighed, because she thought
of her own burden, and how far more heavily it pressed. Twining's were
no little foibles, no small weaknesses; none of his faults had their
root in any easy self-deceptions. Everything he did or said or thought
was maturely weighed and considered; his gay, laughing manner, his easy,
light-hearted gesticulation, his ready concurrence in the humor about
him, were small coin that he scattered freely while he pondered over
heavy investments.

From long experience of his crafty, double-dealing nature, coupled with
something very near aversion to him, Lady Grace had grown to believe
that in all he said or did some unseen motive lay, and she brought
herself to believe that even his avaricious and miserly habits were
practised still less for the sake of saving than for some ulterior and
secret end.

Of the wretched life they led she drew a dreary picture: a mock splendor
for the world, a real misery at home; all the outward semblance of
costly living, all the internal consciousness of meanness and privation.
He furnished houses with magnificence, that he might