lived remote from the world, but she had read the papers
diligently, and she knew how often the splendour of commercial wealth
has been suddenly obscured behind a black cloud of obloquy. She could
not rejoice heartily at the idea of Lesbia's engagement.

'I am to see the man early in August,' she said, as if she were talking
of a butler. 'I hope I may like him. Lady Kirkbank tells me it is a
brilliant marriage, and I must take her word. What can _I_ do for my
granddaughter--a useless log--a prisoner in two rooms?'

'It is very hard,' murmured Mary, tenderly, 'but I do not see any reason
why Lesbia should not be happy. She likes a brilliant life; and Mr.
Smithson can give her as much gaiety and variety as she can possibly
desire. And, after all, yachts, and horses, and villas, and diamonds
_are_ nice things.'

'They are the things for which half the world is ready to cheat or
murder the other half,' said Lady Maulevrier, bitterly. She had told
herself long ago that wealth was power, and she had sacrificed many
things, her own peace, her own conscience among them, in order that her
children and grandchildren should be rich; and, knowing this, she felt
it ill became her to be scrupulous, and to inquire too, closely as to
the sources of Mr. Smithson's wealth. He was rich, and the world had no
fault to find with him. He had attended the last _levee_. He went into
reputable society. And he could give Lesbia all those things which the
world calls good.

Fraeulein Mueller had packed her heavy old German trunks, and had gone
back to the _Heimath_, laden with presents of all kinds from Lady
Maulevrier; so Mary and her husband felt as if Fellside was really their
own. They dined with her ladyship, and left her for the night an hour
after dinner; and then they went down to the gardens, and roamed about
in the twilight, and talked, and talked, and talked, as only true lovers
can talk, be they Strephon and Daphne in life's glad morning, or
grey-haired Darby and Joan; and lastly they went down to the hike, and
rowed about in the moonlight, and talked of King Arthur's death, and of
that mystic sword, Excalibur, 'wrought by the lonely maiden of the
lake.'

They spent three happy days in wandering about the neighbourhood,
revisiting in the delicious freedom of their wedded life those spots
which they had seen together, when Mary was still in bondage, and the
eye of propriety, as represented by Miss Mueller, was always upon her.
No