eption was as
well attended as that of Berengaria. The two great leaders were friends,
intimate, but not perhaps quite so intimate as a few years before. "Lady
Montfort is very kind to me," Imogene would say, "but I do not think
she now quite remembers we are cousins." Both Lord and Lady Waldershare
seemed equally devoted to Lady Beaumaris. "I do not think," he would
say, "that I shall ever get Adriana to receive. It is an organic gift,
and very rare. What I mean to do is to have a first-rate villa and give
the party strawberries. I always say Adriana is like Nell Gwyn, and she
shall go about with a pottle. One never sees a pottle of strawberries
now. I believe they went out, like all good things, with the Stuarts."

And so, after all these considerable events, the season rolled on and
closed tranquilly. Lord and Lady Hainault continued to give banquets,
over which the hostess sighed; Sir Peter Vigo had the wisdom to retain
his millions, which few manage to do, as it is admitted that it is
easier to make a fortune than to keep one. Mrs. Rodney, supremely
habited, still drove her ponies, looking younger and prettier than ever,
and getting more fashionable every day, and Mr. Ferrars and Berengaria,
Countess of Montfort, retired in the summer to their beautiful and
beloved Princedown.

CHAPTER C

Although the past life of Endymion had, on the whole, been a happy life,
and although he was destined also to a happy future, perhaps the four
years which elapsed from the time he quitted office, certainly in his
experience had never been exceeded, and it was difficult to imagine
could be exceeded, in felicity. He had a great interest, and even
growing influence in public life without any of its cares; he was
united to a woman whom he had long passionately loved, and who had every
quality and a fortune which secured him all those advantages which are
appreciated by men of taste and generosity. He became a father, and a
family name which had been originally borne by a courtier of the elder
Stuarts was now bestowed on the future lord of Princedown.

Lady Montfort herself had no thought but her husband. His happiness, his
enjoyment of existence, his success and power in life, entirely absorbed
her. The anxiety which she felt that in everything he should be master
was touching. Once looked upon as the most imperious of women, she would
not give a direction on any matter without his opinion and sanction. One
would have supposed