re well
there's nothing on earth I'd love so much at this moment as to go off on
a junket. If Esmeralda wants to give me a good time, let the poor thing
have her way--_I'll_ not hinder her! I'll go, and I'll love it; but
I'll not promise how long I shall stay--all sorts of things may happen."

"Yes," said Bridgie dreamily, "all sorts of things!"

And so Pixie O'Shaughnessy went forth to meet her fate.

CHAPTER FIVE.

IN MARBLE HALLS.

Mrs Geoffrey Hilliard, _nee_ Joan O'Shaughnessy, was the second
daughter of the family, and had been christened Esmeralda "for short" by
the brothers and sisters of whom she had been alternately the pride and
the trial. The fantastic name had an appropriateness so undeniable that
even Joan's husband had adopted it in his turn for use in the family
circle, reserving the more dignified "Joan" for more ceremonious
occasions.

"Esmeralda" had been a beauty from her cradle, and would be a beauty if
she lived to be a hundred, for her proud, restless features were
perfectly chiselled, and her great grey eyes, with the long black lashes
on the upper and lower lid, were as eloquent as they were lovely. When
she was angry, they seemed to send out veritable flashes of fire; when
she was languid, the white lids drooped and the fringed eyelashes veiled
them in a misty calm; when she was loving, when she held her boys in her
arms, or spoke a love word in her husband's ear, ah! Then it was a joy
indeed to behold the beauty of those limpid eyes! They "melted" indeed,
not with tears, but with the very essence of tenderness and love.

"Esmeralda's so nice that you couldn't believe she was so horrid!"
Pixie had declared once in her earlier years, and unfortunately there
was still too much truth in the pronouncement.

Seven years of matrimony, and the responsibility of two young sons, had
failed to discipline the hasty, intolerant nature, although they had
certainly deepened the inner longing for improvement. Joan devotedly
loved her husband, but accepted as her right his loyal devotion, and
felt bitterly aggrieved when his forbearance occasionally gave way.

She adored her two small sons, and her theories on motherhood were so
sweet and lofty that Bridgie, listening thereto, had been moved to
tears. But in practice the theories were apt to go to the wall. To do
Joan justice she would at any time have marched cheerfully to the stake
if by so doing she could have saved her children from