Mount Royal, Volume 3 of 3

om that change was even a greater mystification. Jessie Bridgeman, who had been with her in the dark hours of her grief-who had seen her sunk in the apathy of despair-who had c

same hotel with them for three or four days, and had given them as much of his society as he could without being absolutely intrusive, taking advantage of having met Christabel five seasons ago, at two or three quasi literary assemblies; and at par

so little, Christabel answered carelessly that "Leonard liked to have his house

e him to choose h

ve part in the arrangement of things in

e talking of the Baron at

-I was not partic

orough Bohemian-that he led a very wild life i

atter to us, eve

ivolity-going to all the theatres-buying all the newest and lightest music, spending long mornings with milliners and dressmakers-squandering money upon fine clothes, which a year ago she would have scorned to wear. Hitherto her taste had tended to simplicity of attire-not without richness-

o be asked to a good many fancy balls?" asked Jessie, as Mrs. Tregon

modern fashion is its chief merit. The style of to-day embraces three

a summer holiday. He was Angus Hamleigh's friend, and had known Christabel during the happy days of her first Lond

ad gone back to his nursery, and had inquired why the hills he saw from his windows were no longer white, and why the sea was so

alcove overlooking the hills and the sea. They were seated at a little

you speak.

mforted her with vague words which never touched upon the cruel details of her grief. How if the mind had been affected by that long interval of sorrow, and the memory of Leonard's deed blotted out? Christabel's new delight in frivolous things-her sudden fancy for filling her house with lively people-might be the awakening of new life and v

er ask Mrs. Fairfax Tor

the St. Aubyns, nice lively girls and an inoffensive father and mother. I believe

you detes

opsy." The tears rushed to her eyes. She rose s

ot forgotten,"

ness. The St. Aubyn party brought horses, and men and maids, and contributed much to the liveliness of the establishment, so far as noise means gaiety. They were all assembled when Baron de Cazalet telegraphed

ew mode of life without further wonder, and to fall into his old ways, a

Dopsy forgot her failure and grief of last year. One cannot waste al

t in mourning for six mouths," she told her sister apologetically, as if ashamed of her good spirits, "

sy. "If we had only horses and could hunt, like tho

e had thoughts of belonging to the Browning Society, that eldest one asked me if it was like the Birkbeck, and if we should be

she could see no beauty in single dahli

ed with a feeling that it is useless to settle oneself even to the interesting labour of art needlework when one is not by one's own fireside. The sportsmen were all out; but de

library. "At home I revel in civilization-I cannot have too much of warmth and comfort-velvetty nests like this to lounge in, downy cushions to lean against, hot-house fl

m the big brazen basket and dropped it in a gingerly manner upon the hearth, carefully dust

spatch box and a pile of open letters before him, writing at

azily contemplating the worker's bowed shoulder

rs," said Mr. Faddie. "He shows his good sense by a careful av

e shades of difference between tweedledum and tweedledee," yawned de Cazalet,

ety journals" for the benefit of nobody in particular-nor to listen to Mrs. St. Aubyn's disquisitions upon the merits of Alderney cows, with which Jessie Bridgeman made believe to be interested, while deep in the intricacies of a crewel-work daffodil. For him the spacious pink and white panelled room without one particular person was more desolate than the wild expanse of the Pampas, with its low undulations, growing rougher tow

y the time he came of age-well-I should have lived my life, I suppose, and could afford to subside into comfortable obscurity," sighed de Cazalet, conscious

the house in quest of masculine society, came yawning into the library in search of anything read

have perchance essayed his subjugation; but, remembering Dopsy's bitter experience of last year, the sadder and wiser Miss Vandeleur had made up her mind not to "go for" any marriageable man in too dist

n stopped in a Fra Angelico pose

een the Queen?" sh

l. She is one of the dearest women I know, and she was goo

ying to know if it really is coming in. Now it ha

ask wha

t-crinoline. There is a talk abo

suppose, is own s

o; I love the early Italian style-cling

are such lovely beings-they are adorable in any costume. Madame Tallien with bare feet, and no petticoats to speak of-Pompadour in patches and wide-spreading

n set the fashions and the ugly women h

her opposite. A smile-a sparkle-a kindly look-a fresh complexion-a neat bonnet-vivacious conversation-such trifles will pass for beauty with a man

us," said Mopsy, trifling with the newspapers, "and that

have met famous beauties who had no more att

e women who are as fascinating as they are lovely. Our h

g. I'll hunt for any newspapers you like presently; but in the meanwhile let

upposed. His desire for her company looked promising. What if, after all, she, who had striven so much less eagerly than poor Dopsy strove last year, should

weet, as you say, but not quite my style-there is a something-an intangible something wanting. She has chic-she has savoir-f

under lowered eyelids, hinted that this vital spark w

ked down, conscious of eyel

ing. I know his cousin didn't want to marry him-she was engaged to somebody else, don't you know, and that engagement was broken off, but he had set his heart upon marrying her-and his mother had set her heart upo

up a secret," said the Baron, who had settled himself comfortably in his c

desperately in love with the other one. But she gave him up at her aunt's instigation, because of some early intrigue of his-wh

o was the other on

Nectan's Kieve last year. Y

Mr. Hamleigh had been engaged to Mrs. Tregonell

s that Leonard Tregonell is fond o

n are mortal-was there anything in the way of a flirtation

I knew the story from my brother, and couldn't help watching them-there was noth

gonell was n

but I am sure h

ll was deeply affected

but as we left almost immediately after the a

be tempted to say that in my opinion no woman in her senses could care for Mr. Tregonell. But I suppose after all practical consid

co-heiress with the late Mrs. Tregonell, who was a Miss Champernowne-I believe she has at least fifteen hundred a ye

"And the fortune was settl

t her duty to protect her niece's interest. Mr. Tregonell has complained to Jac

der any obligation to him

t autumn she dressed so simply. A tailor-gown in the morning-black velvet or satin in the eve

ooking at a picture by Greuze one does not think how much a yard the pale i

n trying for the last ten years to make taste-that is to say

since your last visit?" inquired de Ca

uch more anxious to please. It is a change altogeth

ne magician works such wonders, and he is the old

bringing down her boy. She was not so devoted to him as she had been last year, but there

us," she said, smiling at the Baron,

ed to improve his acquaintance. I

Leo decisively.

eo, ho

inded that for the first three or four years of our lives we al

lways expressed himself in strong Sa

at Mr. FitzJesse. Dopsy reddened, and exploded in a little spluttering laugh behind her napkin. Christabel looked divi

id the Baron, with a self-satisfied smirk. "The old troubado

adour's head should have been through his guitar before he knew where he was-or he should have discovered that my idea of a common chord was a hal

he never ventured to cross swords with Mr. FitzJesse. He was too much afraid of seeing

nty. It was supposed to be a great year for woodcock, and the Squire and his friends had been after the birds in every direction, ex

"it is just the one thing that makes life worth living in a

t it is, but there is something in a bird which appeals intensely to one's pity. I have been more sorry than I can say for a dying sparrow; and I can never teach myself

st who sums up his religion in a phrase of Pope's, and avows that whatever is, is right. Who, looking at the meek meditative countenance of a Jersey cow, those large stag-like eyes-Jun

t a woman once fall down in the mud, and there are plenty of her own sex ready to grind her into the mire. Cows h

A man stabs for the mere pleasure of stabbing. With him slander is one of the fine arts. Depend upon it your Crabtree is a more malevolent creature than Mrs. Candour-and the Candours woul

With character or morals he had nothing to do. He did not even pretend to listen to the discourse of the others, but amused

fter this deluge, we shall have fine weather to-morrow-and organize a pilgrimage to Tintagel, with all the freedom of pedestrians, who can choose their own company, and are not obliged to sit opposite the person they l

ots in which she could walk, most of her boots being made rather with a view to exhibition on a fender-stool or on the step of a carria

e. If you like to meet us as we come home you can do so-but none but pedestrians shall drink our champagne o

ed made for gladness and laughter, would disturb her smiling serenity. But there was no trace of mournful recollection in that bright beaming face which was turned in all g

-a word which might be made to mean almost anything, from the motive power which impels a billiard cue to the money

wed to join you," said Mops

l weights and ages, with Mr

Christabel; "my housekeeper shall take your orders about t

on. "You really must allow age the privilege of a pony-carriage.

isions can't walk. It shall be your privilege to bring them. We will have no servants. Mr. Fadd