nt. But I can tell
you all about Priscilla in a dozen words. Priscilla is a modern Sappho.
Priscilla is an elderly young lady, who never was a girl--Priscilla is
my poor Denis Oglethorpe's _fiancee_."

"Oh!" said Theodora.

Her august relative drew her rich silk skirts a little farther away from
the heat of the fire, and frowned slightly; but not at Theodora--at
Priscilla, in her character of _fiancee_.

"Yes," she went on. "And I think you would agree with me in saying poor
Denis Oglethorpe, if you could see Priscilla."

"Is she ugly?" asked Theo, concisely.

"No," sharply. "I wish she was; but at twenty-two she is elderly, as I
said just now--and she never was anything else. She was elderly when
they were engaged, five years ago."

"But why--why didn't they get married five years ago, if they were
engaged?"

"Because they were too poor," Lady Throckmorton explained; "because
Denis was only a poor young journalist, scribbling night and day, and
scarcely earning his bread and butter."

"Is he poor now?" ventured Theo again.

"No," was the answer. "I wish he was, if it would save him from the
Gowers. As it is, I suppose, if nothing happens to prevent it, he will
marry Priscilla before the year is out. Not that it is any business of
mine, but that I am rather fond of him--very fond of him, I might say,
and I was once engaged to his father."

Theo barely restrained an ejaculation. Here was another romance--and she
was so fond of romances. Pamela's love-story had been a great source of
delight to her; but if Mr. Oglethorpe's father had been anything like
that gentleman himself, what a delightful affair Lady Throckmorton's
love-story must have been! The comfortable figure in the arm-chair at
her side caught a glow of the faint halo that surrounded poor Pam; but
in this case the glow had a more roseate tinge, and was altogether free
from the funereal gray that in Pamela always gave Theo a sense of
sympathizing discomfort.

The next day she wrote to Pamela:

"I have not had time yet to decide how I like Lady Throckmorton,"
she said. "She is very kind to me, and asks a good many questions.
I think I am a little afraid of her; but perhaps that is because I
do not know her very well. One thing I am sure of, she doesn't like
either Sir Dugald or his dog very much. We had a caller last
night--a gentleman. A Mr. Denis Oglethorpe, who is a very great
favorite of Lady Throckmorton. He