o him, was mainly composed
of the middle-aged; to-night, at any rate, she left the young to the
Duchess. And it was on the whole a court of men. The women, as he now
perceived, were a trifle more reserved. There was not, indeed, a trace
of exclusion. They were glad to see her; glad, he thought, to be noticed
by her. But they did not yield themselves--or so he fancied--with the
same wholeness as their husbands.

"How old is she?" he asked himself. "About nine-and-twenty?... Jacob's
age--or a trifle older."

After a time he lost sight of her, and in the amusement of his own
evening forgot her. But as the rooms were beginning to thin he walked
through them, looking for a famous collection of miniatures that
belonged to Lady Hubert. English family history was one of his hobbies,
and he was far better acquainted with the Delafield statesmen, and the
Delafield beauties of the past, than were any of their modern
descendants. Lady Hubert's Cosways and Plimers had made a lively
impression upon him in days gone by, and he meant to renew acquaintance
with them.

But they had been moved from the room in which he remembered them, and
he was led on through a series of drawing-rooms, now nearly empty, till
on the threshold of the last he paused suddenly.

A lady and gentleman rose from a sofa on which they had been sitting.
Captain Warkworth stood still. Mademoiselle Le Breton advanced to the
new-comer.

"Is it very late?" she said, gathering up her fan and gloves. "We have
been looking at Lady Hubert's miniatures. That lady with the muff"--she
pointed to the case which occupied a conspicuous position in the
room--"is really wonderful. Can you tell me, Sir Wilfrid, where the
Duchess is?"

"No, but I can help you find her," said that gentleman, forgetting the
miniatures and endeavoring to look at neither of his companions.

"And I must rush," said Captain Warkworth, looking at his watch. "I told
a man to come to my rooms at twelve. Heavens!"

He shook hands with Miss Le Breton and hurried away.

Sir Wilfrid and Julie moved on together. That he had disturbed a most
intimate and critical conversation was somehow borne in upon Sir
Wilfrid. But kind and even romantic as was the old man's inmost nature,
his feelings were not friendly.

"How does the biography get on?" he asked his companion, with a smile.

A bright flush appeared in Mademoiselle Le Breton's cheek.

"I think Lady Henry has dropped it."

"Ah, well, I don't im