gh esteem in which he was held amongst the opposite
sex. He had made his _debut_ in society quite late in life, for he had
succeeded to the baronetcy, which was one of the oldest and richest in
the country, unexpectedly; and, as a young man, London--fashionable
London, at any rate--had seen or known nothing of him. Nor, indeed, had
he at any time had much to say to anyone about the earlier period of his
life. It was generally understood that he had lived abroad, and that he
had been in some sort of practice, or how else could he have acquired
his knowledge of the technical part of his profession? Beyond this,
nothing was known; and although he was evidently a traveled man, having
much to say at times about all the interesting parts of Southern Europe,
no one ever remembered meeting him anywhere. For the rest, he had passed
through none of the curriculum of English youth. No public school had
had his name upon its books, nor had he even graduated in his own
country. But he had taken a very high degree indeed at Heidelberg,
which had won him considerable respect among those who knew anything
about such matters, and his diplomas included half the letters of the
alphabet, and were undeniable. And so when he had suddenly appeared in
London on the death of his uncle and cousin, a middle-aged,
distinguished gentleman, with manners a little foreign, but in their way
perfect, society had voted him a great improvement on the former
baronet, and had taken him by the hand at once. That was a good many
years ago, and very soon after his first introduction to the London
world he had become a notable figure in it. He had never missed a town
season, and at all its chief functions was a well-known and popular
figure, always among the best and most exclusive set, and always welcome
there. He had a yacht at Cowes, a share in a Scotch moor, a dozen or so
hunters at his little place near Melton, a shooting box in Derbyshire,
and a fine old mansion and estate in Kent, where everyone liked to be
asked; and where he had more than once had the honor of entertaining
royalty. There was only one thing in the world wanted to make Sir Allan
Beaumerville perfect, women declared, and that one thing was a wife. But
although no one appeared to appreciate more highly the charms of
feminine society--as he showed in more ways than one, both in St. John's
Wood and in Belgravia--he had never shown the least inclination to
perform his duty to society in this re