r Ronald Hollister, afterwards Earl
of Hartfield, was then a younger son, and the two families had agreed
that marriage between paupers was an impudent flying in the face of
Providence, which must be put down with an iron hand. Lord Hartfield
sent his son to Turkey in the diplomatic service; and the old dowager
Lady Carrisbrook whisked her niece off to London, and kept her there,
under watch and ward, till Lord Maulevrier proposed and was accepted by
her. There should be no foolishness, no clandestine correspondence. The
iron hand crushed two young hearts, and secured a brilliant future for
the bodies which survived.

Fifteen years later Ronald's elder brother died unmarried. Ha abandoned
that career of vagrant diplomacy which had taken him all over Europe,
and as far as Washington, and re-appeared in London, the most elegant
man of his era, but thoroughly _blase_. There were rumours of an unhappy
attachment in the Faubourg Saint Germain; of a tragedy at Petersburg.
Society protested that Lord Hartfield would die a bachelor, as his
brother died before him. The Hollisters are not a marrying family, said
society. But six or seven years after his return to England Lord
Hartfield married Lady Florence Ilmington, a beauty in her first season,
and a very sweet but somewhat prudish young person. The marriage
resulted in the birth of an heir, whose appearance upon this mortal
stage was followed within a year by his father's exit. Hence the
Hartfield property, always a fine estate, had been nursed and fattened
during a long minority, and the present Lord Hartfield was reputed one
of the richest young men of his time. He was also spoken of as a
superior person, inheriting all his father's intellectual gifts, and
having the reputation of being singularly free from the vices of
profligate youth. He was neither prig nor pedant, and he was very
popular in the best society; but he was not ashamed to let it be seen
that his ambition soared higher than the fashionable world of turf and
stable, cards and pigeon matches.

Though not of the gay world, nor in it, Lady Maulevrier had contrived to
keep herself thoroughly _en rapport_ with society. Her few chosen
friends, with whom she corresponded on terms of perfect confidence, were
among the best people in London--not the circulators of club-house
canards, the pickers-up of second-hand gossip from the society papers,
but actors in the comedy of high life, arbiters of fashion and taste,
bo