the terraces of Bellosguardo, while the moon was full
on Giotto's tower, and had discussed their dresses for the Veglione
masquerade. It was not their style to care for these matters; they were
pretty, to be sure, but they had seen so many of them.

The Dowager went home in her brougham; the Countess drove in
his mail-phaeton--objectionable, as she might be seen, but less
objectionable than letting her servants know he had met her at Richmond.
Besides, she obviated danger by bidding him set her down at a little
villa across the park, where dwelt a confidential protegee of hers, whom
she patronized; a former French governess, married tolerably well, who
had the Countess' confidences, and kept them religiously for sake of so
aristocratic a patron, and of innumerable reversions of Spanish point
and shawls that had never been worn, and rings, of which her lavish
ladyship had got tired.

From here she would take her ex-governess' little brougham, and get
quietly back to her own home in Eaton Square, in due time for all the
drums and crushes at which she must make her appearance. This was the
sort of little device which really made them think themselves in love,
and gave the salt to the whole affair. Moreover, there was this ground
for it, that had her lord once roused from the straw-yards of his prize
cattle, there was a certain stubborn, irrational, old-world prejudice of
pride and temper in him that would have made him throw expediency to the
winds, then and there, with a blind and brutal disregard to slander and
to the fact that none would ever adorn his diamonds as she did. So that
Cecil had not only her fair fame, but her still more valuable jewels in
his keeping when he started from the Star and Garter in the warmth of
the bright summer's evening.

It was a lovely night; a night for lonely highland tarns, and southern
shores by Baiae; without a cloud to veil the brightness of the stars. A
heavy dew pressed the odors from the grasses, and the deep glades of
the avenue were pierced here and there with a broad beam of silvery
moonlight, slanting through the massive boles of the trees, and falling
white and serene across the turf. Through the park, with the gleam of
the water ever and again shining through the branches of the foliage,
Cecil started his horses; his groom he had sent away on reaching
Richmond, for the same reason as the Countess had dismissed her
barouche, and he wanted no servant, since, as soon as he had