r son had been once
wrecked, was very anxious that Sir Felix should at once make a proper
use of the intimacy which he had effected in the house of this topping
Croesus of the day.

And now there must be a few words said about Henrietta Carbury. Of
course she was of infinitely less importance than her brother, who was
a baronet, the head of that branch of the Carburys, and her mother's
darling; and, therefore, a few words should suffice. She also was very
lovely, being like her brother; but somewhat less dark and with
features less absolutely regular. But she had in her countenance a
full measure of that sweetness of expression which seems to imply that
consideration of self is subordinated to consideration for others.
This sweetness was altogether lacking to her brother. And her face was
a true index of her character. Again, who shall say why the brother
and sister had become so opposite to each other; whether they would
have been thus different had both been taken away as infants from
their father's and mother's training, or whether the girl's virtues
were owing altogether to the lower place which she had held in her
parent's heart? She, at any rate, had not been spoilt by a title, by
the command of money, and by the temptations of too early acquaintance
with the world. At the present time she was barely twenty-one years
old, and had not seen much of London society. Her mother did not
frequent balls, and during the last two years there had grown upon
them a necessity for economy which was inimical to many gloves and
costly dresses. Sir Felix went out of course, but Hetta Carbury spent
most of her time at home with her mother in Welbeck Street.
Occasionally the world saw her, and when the world did see her the
world declared that she was a charming girl. The world was so far
right.

But for Henrietta Carbury the romance of life had already commenced in
real earnest. There was another branch of the Carburys, the head
branch, which was now represented by one Roger Carbury, of Carbury
Hall. Roger Carbury was a gentleman of whom much will have to be said,
but here, at this moment, it need only be told that he was
passionately in love with his cousin Henrietta. He was, however,
nearly forty years old, and there was one Paul Montague whom Henrietta
had seen.

CHAPTER III - THE BEARGARDEN

Lady Carbury's house in Welbeck Street was a modest house enough,
--with no pretensions to be a mansion, hardly assuming eve