s already crowded when the two made their way into it,
and Honora's inclination was to deposit herself on the nearest seat, but
she owed something otherwise to her young charge, and Phoebe's eyes had
already found a lonely black figure with arms crossed, and lowering brow.
Simultaneously they moved towards him, and he towards them. 'Is she come
down?' he asked.

Phoebe shook her head, but at the same moment another door near the
orchestra admitted a small white butterfly figure, leading in a tall
queenly apparition in black, whom she placed in a chair adjacent to the
bejewelled prima donna of the night--a great contrast with her
dust-coloured German hair and complexion, and good-natured plain face.

Robert's face cleared with relief; he evidently detected nothing _outre_
in Lucilla's aspect, and was rejoicing in the concession. Woman's eyes
saw further; a sigh from Honora, an amused murmur around him, caused him
to bend his looks on Phoebe. She knew his eyes were interrogating her,
but could not bear to let her own reply, and kept them on the ground.

He was moving towards Lucilla, who, having consigned her _protegee_ to
the good-humoured German, had come more among the guests, and was
exchanging greetings and answering comments with all her most brilliant
airs of saucy animation.

And who could quarrel with that fairy vision? Her rich double-skirted
watered silk was bordered with exquisitely made and coloured flies,
radiant with the hues of the peacock, the gold pheasant, the jay, parrots
of all tints, everything rich and rare in plumage. A coronal of the same
encircled her glossy hair, the tiny plumes contrasting with the blonde
ringlets, and the _bona fide_ hooks ostentatiously displayed; lesser and
more innocuous flies edged the sleeves, corsage, shoes, and gloves; and
her fan, which she used as skilfully as Jenny Wren, presented a
Watteau-like picture of an angling scene. Anything more daintily,
quaintly pretty could not be imagined, and the male part of the assembly
would have unanimously concurred in Sir Harry Buller's 'three cheers for
the queen of the anglers.'

But towards the party most concerned in her movements, Lucilla came not;
and Phoebe, understanding a desire to keep as near as might be to Miss
Murrell, tried to suggest it as the cause, and looking round, saw Owen
standing by Miss Charlecote, with somewhat of an uneasy countenance.

'Terribly hot here,' he said, restlessly; 'suffocating, are