did not think fit to give any reply. And Bice swallowed her pique and
asked no more. The lamps were all shaded like the windows in this bower
of beauty. There was scarcely a corner that was not draped with some
softly-falling, richly-tinted tissue. A delicate perfume breathed
through this half-lighted world. Thus, though neither gay nor bright, it
realised the effect which in our day, in the time when everything was
different, was meant by these words. It was a place for pleasure, for
intimate society, and conversation, and laughter, and wit; for music and
soft words; and, above all, for the setting off of beauty, and the
expression of admiration. The chairs were soft, the carpets like moss;
there were flowers everywhere betraying themselves by their odour, even
when you could not see them. The Contessa had spared no expense in
making the little place--which she laughed at softly, calling it her
doll's house--as perfect as it could be made.

And here the two ladies began to live a life very different from that of
the Randolphs' simple dwelling. Bice, it need scarcely be said, had
fulfilled all the hopes of her patroness, else had she never been
produced with such bewildering mystery, yet deftness, to dazzle the eyes
of young Montjoie at the Hall. She had realised all the Contessa's
expectations, and justified the bills which Madame di Forno-Populo
looked upon with a certain complacency as they came in, as something
creditable to her, as proof of her magnificence of mind and devotion to
the best interests of her _protegee_. And now they had entered upon
their campaign. It had annoyed her in this new beginning, amid all its
excitements and hopes, to be called upon by Sir Tom for explanations
which it was not to her interest to give; which she had, indeed, when
she deliberately sowed the seed of mystery, resolved not to give. To
allow herself to be brought to book was not in her mind at all, and she
was clever enough to mystify even Sir Tom, and keep his mind in a
suspense and uncertainty very painful to him. But she had managed to
elude his inquiries, and though it had changed the demeanour of Sir Tom,
and entirely done away with the careless good humour which had been so
pleasant, still she felt herself now independent of the Randolphs, and
had begun her life very cheerfully and with every promise of great
enjoyment. The Contessa "received" every day and all day long, from the
time when she was visible, which was not, ho