e
her greater opportunities of meeting Jim. Far from it. She knew very
well that she was more likely to meet Captain Bloxam in Hans Place than
at his mother's house; for when he came up from Aldershot, as he did
pretty constantly, it was rarely that Jim failed to appear in Mrs.
Wriothesley's drawing-room; but the truth is the girl was rather shy of
meeting Captain Bloxam just now. That Sylla's overtures should be
coldly received was only what might be expected. Both Blanche and her
mother regarded her as a dangerous rival. Indeed, Lady Mary's dislike
to her from the first had proceeded from no other cause, so that
Sylla's attempts to improve the acquaintance met with little success.
Had Mrs. Wriothesley not obtained the keynote at Hurlingham, she would
have been puzzled to understand what had come to her niece. The wand
of the enchanter had transformed the girl. Her vivacity was
wonderfully toned down; her whole manner softened; and Sylla, most
self-possessed of young ladies, was unmistakably shy in the presence of
Jim Bloxam. Diffidence is rarely an attribute of Hussars, and Jim was
not without experience of women. The more retiring Miss Chipchase
became, the more ardent became the attentions of her admirer.

Mrs. Wriothesley of course comprehended how matters were, and viewed
the progress of events with entire satisfaction. She saw that
projected scheme of hers rapidly approaching completion, and requiring
but little help from her fostering hand; still it would be just as
well, to use her own expression, "to assist nature;" and, with that
view, she wrote a note to Jim Bloxam, suggesting that an early dinner
and a night at the play were the proper restoratives for an invalid's
nerves. She has seen Jim several times since his fall at Hurlingham,
and knows very well that he got over the effects of that shaking in two
or three days; but she has affected to regard him as a convalescent
ever since, and insists upon it that quiet society is what he requires,
meaning that, whenever he comes to town, the little house in Hans Place
is the haven of rest best suited to him.

"I wish, Rip," said Mrs. Wriothesley, putting her head into her
husband's _sanctum_ one morning, "you would look in at Bubb's this
afternoon, and tell them to send me a box for the Prince of Wales's
next Wednesday. You will of course do as you like, but I am going to
ask Jim Bloxam to dine and go with us to the play."

"What a clever designing