gh she was very fat and heavy, left the viscount, and got up
to join the group. Baron Potsneuf, a diplomatic German of great
celebrity, crossed his hands upon his breast, and made a low bow.
The Honourable George, who had stood silent for the last quarter of
an hour, suggested to her ladyship that she must have found the air
rather cold; and the Ladies Margaretta and Alexandrina fluttered
up with little complimentary speeches to their dear Lady Dumbello,
hoping this and beseeching that, as though the "Woman in White"
before them had been the dearest friend of their infancy.

She was a woman in white, being dressed in white silk, with white
lace over it, and with no other jewels upon her person than diamonds.
Very beautifully she was dressed; doing infinite credit, no doubt, to
those three artists who had, between them, succeeded in turning her
out of hand. And her face, also, was beautiful, with a certain cold,
inexpressive beauty. She walked up the room very slowly, smiling here
and smiling there; but still with very faint smiles, and took the
place which her hostess indicated to her. One word she said to the
countess and two to the earl. Beyond that she did not open her lips.
All the homage paid to her she received as though it were clearly her
due. She was not in the least embarrassed, nor did she show herself
to be in the slightest degree ashamed of her own silence. She did
not look like a fool, nor was she even taken for a fool; but she
contributed nothing to society but her cold, hard beauty, her gait,
and her dress. We may say that she contributed enough, for society
acknowledged itself to be deeply indebted to her.

The only person in the room who did not move at Lady Dumbello's
entrance was her husband. But he remained unmoved from no want of
enthusiasm. A spark of pleasure actually beamed in his eye as he saw
the triumphant entrance of his wife. He felt that he had made a match
that was becoming to him as a great nobleman, and that the world was
acknowledging that he had done his duty. And yet Lady Dumbello had
been simply the daughter of a country parson, of a clergyman who had
reached no higher rank than that of an archdeacon. "How wonderfully
well that woman has educated her," the countess said that evening
in her dressing-room, to Margaretta. The woman alluded to was Mrs
Grantly, the wife of the parson and mother of Lady Dumbello.

The old earl was very cross because destiny and the table of
precedence