ly though courteously
rejected, and no encouragement had been given to the maintenance of
their once intimate acquaintance.

Mr. Sidney Wilton was much struck by the appearance of Lady Roehampton.
He tried to compare the fulfilment of her promise with the beautiful
and haughty child whom he used to wonder her parents so extravagantly
spoiled. Her stature was above the average height of women and finely
developed and proportioned. But it was in the countenance--in the
pellucid and commanding brow, the deep splendour of her dark blue eyes
softened by long lashes, her short upper lip, and the rich profusion of
her dark chestnut hair--that his roused memory recalled the past; and he
fell into a mood of agitated contemplation.

The opportunities which he enjoyed of cultivating her society were
numerous, and Mr. Wilton missed none. He was frequently her guest, and
being himself the master of a splendid establishment, he could offer
her a hospitality which every one appreciated. Lord Roehampton was
peculiarly his political chief, and they had always been socially
intimate. As the trusted colleague of her husband--as one who had known
her in her childhood, and as himself a man singularly qualified, by his
agreeable conversation and tender and deferential manner, to make his
way with women--Mr. Sidney Wilton had no great difficulty, particularly
in that happy demi-season which precedes Christmas, in establishing
relations of confidence and intimacy with Lady Roehampton.

The cabinets were over: the government had decided on their measures,
and put them in a state of preparation, and they were about to disperse
for a month. The seat of Lord Roehampton was in the extreme north
of England, and a visit to it was inconvenient at this moment, and
especially at this season. The department of Lord Roehampton was very
active at this time, and he was unwilling that the first impression by
his wife of her future home should be experienced at a season little
favourable to the charms of a northern seat. Mr. Sidney Wilton was
the proprietor of the most beautiful and the most celebrated villa in
England; only twenty miles from town, seated on a wooded crest of
the swan-crowned Thames, with gardens of delight, and woods full of
pheasants, and a terrace that would have become a court, glancing over a
wide expanse of bower and glade, studded with bright halls and delicate
steeples, and the smoke of rural homes.

It was arranged that Lord and