f Milby.

Inside, there is a bright fire in the drawing-room, casting a pleasant
but uncertain light on the delicate silk dress of a lady who is reclining
behind a screen in the corner of the sofa, and allowing you to discern
that the hair of the gentleman who is seated in the arm-chair opposite,
with a newspaper over his knees, is becoming decidedly grey. A little
'King Charles', with a crimson ribbon round his neck, who has been lying
curled up in the very middle of the hearth-rug, has just discovered that
that zone is too hot for him, and is jumping on the sofa, evidently with
the intention of accommodating his person on the silk gown. On the table
there are two wax-candles, which will be lighted as soon as the expected
knock is heard at the door.

The knock is heard, the candles are lighted, and presently Mr. and Mrs.
Barton are ushered in--Mr. Barton erect and clerical, in a faultless tie
and shining cranium; Mrs. Barton graceful in a newly-turned black silk.

'Now this is charming of you,' said the Countess Czerlaski, advancing to
meet them, and embracing Milly with careful elegance. 'I am really
ashamed of my selfishness in asking my friends to come and see me in this
frightful weather.' Then, giving her hand to Amos, 'And you, Mr. Barton,
whose time is so precious! But I am doing a good deed in drawing you away
from your labours. I have a plot to prevent you from martyrizing
yourself.'

While this greeting was going forward, Mr. Bridmain, and Jet the spaniel,
looked on with the air of actors who had no idea of by-play. Mr.
Bridmain, a stiff and rather thick-set man, gave his welcome with a
laboured cordiality. It was astonishing how very little he resembled his
beautiful sister.

For the Countess Czerlaski was undeniably beautiful. As she seated
herself by Mrs. Barton on the sofa, Milly's eyes, indeed, rested--must it
be confessed?--chiefly on the details of the tasteful dress, the rich
silk of a pinkish lilac hue (the Countess always wore delicate colours in
an evening), the black lace pelerine, and the black lace veil falling at
the back of the small closely-braided head. For Milly had one
weakness--don't love her any the less for it, it was a pretty woman's
weakness--she was fond of dress; and often, when she was making up her
own economical millinery, she had romantic visions how nice it would be
to put on really handsome stylish things--to have very stiff balloon
sleeves, for example, without which a w