for him that he
would be prime minister before he was thirty. His mother's heart
rejoiced in him--all her most sanguine hopes were fulfilled. Ask him if
he is happy. He would laugh carelessly, and answer, "I am as happy as
other men, I imagine." Ask him if his ambition and pride are gratified,
and he will tell you "Yes." Ask him if ambition and pride can fill his
life to the exclusion of all else; he will tell you "No." Ask him again
if he has a thousand vague, passionate desires unfulfilled, and his
handsome face will cloud and his eyes droop.

They are very popular. Lord Chandos gives grand dinners, which are
considered among the best in London, Lady Chandos gives balls, and
people intrigue in every possible way for invitations. She gives quiet
dances and _soirees_, which are welcomed. She is "at home" every
Wednesday, and no royal drawing-room is better attended than her "at
home." She has select little teas at five o'clock, when some of the most
exclusive people in London drink orange pekoe out of the finest Rose du
Barri china. They are essentially popular; no ball is considered
complete unless it is graced by the presence of the queen of blondes. As
the Belgravian matrons all say, "Dear Lady Chandos is so happy in her
marriage." Her husband was always in attendance on her. Other husbands
had various ways; some went to their clubs, some smoked, some drank,
some gambled, others flirted. Lord Chandos was irreproachable; he did
none of these things.

There had never been the least cloud between them. If this perfect wife
of his had any little weakness, it was a tendency to slight jealousies,
so slight as to be nameless, yet she allowed them at times to ruffle her
calm, serene repose. Her husband was very handsome--there was a
picturesque, manly beauty about his dark head and face, a grandeur in
his grand, easy figure that was irresistible. Women followed him
wherever he went with admiring eyes. As he walked along the streets they
said to each other, with smiling eyes, what a handsome man he was. If
they went to strange hotels all the maids courtesied with blushing faces
to the handsome young lord. At Naples one of the flower-girls had
disturbed Lady Marion's peace--a girl with a face darkly beautiful as
one of Raphael's women, with eyes that were like liquid fire, and this
girl always stood waiting for them with a basket of flowers. Lord
Chandos, in his generous, princely fashion, flung her pieces of gold or
silver;