ar to us. There was nothing exactly
young or exactly old about her except her voice, which betrayed a faint
hoarseness, attributable possibly to exhaustion produced by untold years
of incessant talking. It might be added that she was as active as a
squirrel and as playful as a kitten. But the lady must be treated with
a certain forbearance of tone, for this good reason--she was Stella's
mother.

Stella turned quickly at the tap of the fan. "Mamma!" she exclaimed,
"how you startle me!"

"My dear child," said Mrs. Eyrecourt, "you are constitutionally
indolent, and you want startling. Go into the next room directly. Mr.
Romayne is looking for you."

Stella drew back a step, and eyed her mother in blank surprise. "Is it
possible that you know him?" she asked.

"Mr. Romayne doesn't go into Society, or we should have met long since,"
Mrs. Eyrecourt replied. "He is a striking person--and I noticed him
when he shook hands with you. That was quite enough for me. I have just
introduced myself to him as your mother. He was a little stately and
stiff, but most charming when he knew who I was. I volunteered to find
you. He was quite astonished. I think he took me for your elder sister.
Not the least like each other--are we, Lady Loring? She takes after her
poor dear father. _He_ was constitutionally indolent. My sweet child,
rouse yourself. You have drawn a prize in the great lottery at last. If
ever a man was in love, Mr. Romayne is that man. I am a physiognomist,
Lady Loring, and I see the passions in the face. Oh, Stella, what a
property! Vange Abbey. I once drove that way when I was visiting in the
neighborhood. Superb! And another fortune (twelve thousand a year and a
villa at Highgate) since the death of his aunt. And my daughter may
be mistress of this if she only plays her cards properly. What
a compensation after all that we suffered through that monster,
Winterfield!"

"Mamma! Pray don't--!"

"Stella, I will _not_ be interrupted, when I am speaking to you for your
own good. I don't know a more provoking person, Lady Loring, than my
daughter--on certain occasions. And yet I love her. I would go through
fire and water for my beautiful child. Only last week I was at a
wedding, and I thought of Stella. The church was crammed to the doors!
A hundred at the wedding breakfast! The bride's lace--there; no language
can describe it. Ten bridesmaids, in blue and silver. Reminded me of
the ten virgins. Only the proportion of f