oo old, I fancy, to change. Brenda is going back to
America before long, to be with our aunt, father's sister, for whom
Brenda was named. It was only decided a day or two ago, when we heard
from some friends who are going and will take her under their wing. And
if she goes there's no telling when she will come back, you see, because
with every change of administration father may be recalled. And Italy
has been her home so long, all her friends are here. It's no wonder she
doesn't look exactly light of heart."

"No, poor child!"

There was a sympathetic silence, after which, "Who is that?" Mrs.
Hawthorne asked, to take their minds off the intrusive sadnesses of
life. With her gaze across the room she counted, "One, two, three, four,
to the left of the piano, with his hands behind him and a round glass in
his eye."

Leslie looked over at a figure of whom it was natural to ask who that
was, it so surely looked like Somebody--though Mrs. Hawthorne had very
likely asked because, merely, in her eyes he was queer. It was an oldish
man, dressed with marked elegance, white tie, white waistcoat, white
flower at his lapel. The whole of worldly wisdom dwelt in his weary eye.
He had yellow and withered cheeks, black hair with a dash of white above
the ears, and a mustache whose thickest part curved over his mouth like
a black lacquer box-lid, while its long ends, stiff as thorns of a
thorn-tree, projected on either side far beyond his face.

"His name is Balm de Breze, vicomte. He is by birth a Belgian, I think;
the title, however, is French. He has lived mostly in Paris, but now
spends about half of his time here. He married a friend of ours, an
American. There is Amabel, in ruby velvet, just inside the library door.
A good deal younger than he, yet they seem appropriately matched,
somehow."

"She looks about as foreign as he does. Who's the one she's talking to,
handsome, dark as night? Never saw such a dark skin before except on a
cullud puss'n."

"I know. He might be an Arab, only he's very good Tuscan. It's Mr.
Landini,--Hunt and Landini."

"Ah, the bankers. They do my business, but I've never seen the heads
before to-night."

Mrs. Hawthorne's eyes wandered, as if she said, "Whom else do I want to
know about?" and Leslie made internal comment upon the fact that Mrs.
Hawthorne's interest was quickened by those individuals precisely whom
they had withheld, for reasons, from presenting to her.

Mrs. Hawthorne suddenly