across at her.

There may be dissension in this family, but they look the embodiment of
high-bred ease and serene contentment.

Jasper Lamotte turns his paper, sips his light wine, speaks suavely, and
looks as placid as the sky overhead.

Mrs. Lamotte speaks slow and seldom; smiles when she does speak; and
looks as if nothing ever ruffled the placidity of her mind, or the even
tenor of her pleasant existence. She looks all this, sitting directly
opposite John Burrill, her reluctantly accepted son-in-law, for what
Mrs. Lamotte cannot overcome, she ignores, and her proud calm is the
result of a long and bitter schooling.

Sybil looks paler than is usual for her, but no other expression than
one of calmness and _ennui_ can be detected on that lovely, inscrutable
face; and the dusky eyes keep well veiled, and tell no secrets.

Evan Lamotte is sober, and good humored, for his sister's sake; and
Frank is simply lazy.

But John Burrill! there is no contentment equal to his; seated in the
easiest of chairs, before a table laden with viands upon which he has
just gorged himself, he contemplates his legs and his surroundings with
extreme satisfaction; his legs first, because, being stretched directly
before him, they come first under his eye; and he is delighted with
their size, and shape; they are a fine pair, such as would do credit to
a bull fighter, or a "champion pedestrian," and with the quality and cut
of the pantaloons that adorn them. It has not always been his good
fortune to sit at a rich man's table, and to wear fashionable clothing;
and John Burrill appreciates his "marcies." He has feasted his stomach,
and John Burrill's stomach comes in for a large share of his
consideration; and now he is feasting his senses: this richly appointed
room is his room; this splendid stately lady, how he delights to call
her "mother," varied occasionally by "mother-in-law;" how he glories in
the possession of a pair of aristocratic brothers-in-law; and how he
swells with pride, when he steps into the carriage, and, sitting beside
"the rich Mr. Lamotte," is driven through W---- and to the factories;
and last, and best of all, there is his wife, a beauty, a belle, an
heiress, possessing a score of lovers, yet won by him.

Only one thing troubles John Burrill, he does not quite understand
Sybil; he has "got the hang," so he thinks of the other members of the
family, but sometimes Sybil's wordless glance operates upon him like a
co