er gleaming
dress and jewels showing to perfection, from against this beautiful
background, Basil was completely charmed. In all his life he had never
even seen such a picture. She turned to him, when they were alone, with
the sweetest smile on her lovely lips; her eyes seemed to rain down
light into his.

"This is a brilliant scene, Mr. Carruthers; the duchess excels in the
arrangement of her rooms."

He made some reply; he never quite knew what it was. It was enough for
him to watch the charm of that irresistible face as she spoke. "Of
course, everything depends on taste," she continued; "I quite expect you
to laugh at me, but do you know what scene I should find much more
brilliant than this?"

"I cannot imagine," he replied; "but I shall not laugh."

"Ah, well. I am peculiar in my tastes. In place of this brilliant
ballroom, I should like to be seated at a tournament. I should like to
see the knights with their banners and waving plumes, in the lists--the
ladies in their balconies all hung with cloth of gold--the queen of
beauty with the prize. Ah, me! in those days, ladies had knights and men
were heroes."

As he looked at her, his whole soul shone in his eyes.

"And I, too," he cried. "I love those days ten thousand times better
than these."

"Do you?" asked her ladyship with admiring eyes, "how strange! It is not
long since I was speaking to one whom I may call a young man of the
period, and his reply was, 'Horrid bore, those kind of things were, Lady
Lisle,' and I thought most young men were of his opinion."

"I am not," said Basil, "I love those knights and heroes of old! great
men and grand men who were content to ride forth, and to battle unto
death for a woman's smile."

She raised her radiant eyes to his.

"Would you do that much for a woman's smile, Mr. Carruthers?"

He paused a moment before speaking, then said: "For one such woman as
those men loved, I would." She sighed deeply; the jewels on her white
breast gleamed and glistened.

"Ah, you think, then, that the glorious race of women heroes loved and
died for, have disappeared?"

"I thought so, until I saw you," he replied.

"You are wrong," she said. "You will live to tell me that you are wrong.
There may be no Helen such as she who lived at Troy, and no Cleopatra
such as Egypt's dusky queen, but there are grand women living yet,
worthy of heroes' love."

"I am sure of it," he said, "now that I have seen you."

But she made no re