owledge."

"Nor is there any other of the name," said her father, "except that
melancholic uncle of his who never leaves his dark chamber."

"Depend upon it," said Harriet, "Lady Herries said Sir Ambrose. No doubt
it was Sir Ambrose Watford."

"Nay, Harriet, I demur to that," said her father drolly. "I flatter
myself I was a more personable youth than to be likened to Watford with
his swollen nose. What like was your cavalier, Aura?"

"Indeed, sir, I cannot describe him. I was so much terrified lest he
should speak to me that I had much ado to mind my steps. I know he had
white gloves and diamond shoe-buckles, and that his feet moved by no
means like those of Sir Ambrose."

"Aura is a modest child, and does credit to her breeding," said Betty.
"Thus much I saw, that the young gentleman was tall and personable
enough to bear comparison even to you, sir, not more than nineteen or
twenty years of age, in a laced scarlet uniform, as I think, of the
Dragoon Guards, and with a little powder, but not enough to disguise
that his hair was entire gold."

"That all points to his being indeed young Belamour," said her father;
"age, military appearance, and all--I wonder what this portends!"

"What a disaster!" exclaimed Harriet, "that my sister and I should have
been out of the way, and only a chit like Aura be there to be presented
to him."

"If young ladies _will_ defy Cupid," began her father;--but at that
moment Corporal Palmer knocked at the door, bringing a basin of soup for
his master, and announcing "Supper is served, young ladies."

Each of the three bent her knee to receive her father's blessing and
kiss, then curtseying at the door, departed, Betty lingering behind her
two juniors to see her father taste his soup and to make sure that he
relished it.

CHAPTER II. THE HOUSE OF DELAVIE.

All his Paphian mother fear;
Empress! all thy sway revere!
EURIPEDES (Anstice).

The parlour where the supper was laid was oak panelled, but painted
white. Like a little island in the vast polished slippery floor lay a
square much-worn carpet, just big enough to accommodate a moderate-sized
table and the surrounding high-backed chairs. There was a tent-stitch
rug before the Dutch-tiled fireplace, and on the walls hung two framed
prints,--one representing the stately and graceful Duke of Marlborough;
the other, the small, dark, pinched, but fiery Prince Eugene. On the
spotless wh