with its mysterious shadows, its
patches of silver light.

The bells chimed on with their tender cadence, half joyous, half
sorrowful. The shallower spirits among the guests chattered about the
beauty of the night, and the sweetness of the bells. Deeper souls were
silent, full of saddest thoughts. Who is there who has not lost
something in the years gone by, which earth's longest future cannot
restore? Only eternity can give back the ravished treasures of the dead
years.

Violet's lips trembled and were dumb. Roderick saw the tears rolling
down her pale cheeks, and offered no word of consolation. He knew that
she was thinking of her father.

"Dear old Squire," he murmured gently, after an interval of silence.
"How good he was to me, and how fondly I loved him."

That speech was the sweetest comfort he could have offered. Vixen gave
his arm a grateful hug.

"Thank God there is someone who remembers him, besides his dogs and
me!" she exclaimed; and then she hastily dried her tears, and made
herself ready to meet Lord Mallow and Lady Mabel Ashbourne, who were
coming along the terrace towards them, talking gaily. Lord Mallow had a
much wider range of subjects than Mr. Vawdrey. He had read more, and
could keep pace with Lady Mabel in her highest flights; science,
literature, politics, were all as one to him. He had crammed his
vigorous young mind with everything which it behoved a man panting for
parliamentary distinction to know.

"Where have you two people been hiding yourselves for the last half
hour?" asked Lady Mabel. "You were wanted badly just now for 'Blow,
Gentle Gales.' I know you can manage the bass, Rorie, when you like."

"'Lo, behold a pennant waving!'" sang Rorie in deep full tones. "Yes, I
can manage that much, at a push. You seem music mad to-night, Mabel.
The old year is making a swan-like end--fading in music."

Rorie and Vixen were still standing arm-in-arm; rather too much as if
they belonged to each other, Lady Mabel thought. The attitude was
hardly in good taste, according to Lady Mabel's law of taste, which was
a code as strict as Draco's.

The bells rang on.

"The new year has come!" cried the Duke. "Let us all shake hands in the
friendly German fashion."

On this there was a general shaking of hands, which appeared to last a
long time. It seemed rather as if the young people of opposite sexes
shook hands with each other more than once. Lord Mallow would hardly
let Violet's hand go, o