close of a spring day. Lady Hampton had been spending it at
Darrell Court, and General Deering, an old friend of Sir Oswald's, who
was visiting in the neighborhood, had joined the party at dinner. When
dinner was over, and the golden sunbeams were still brightening the
beautiful rooms, he asked Sir Oswald to show him the picture-gallery.

"You have a fine collection," he said--"every one tells me that; but it
is not only the pictures I want to see, but the Darrell faces. I heard
the other day that the Darrells were generally acknowledged to be the
handsomest race in England."

The baronet's clear-cut, stately face flushed a little.

"I hope England values us for something more useful than merely handsome
faces," he rejoined, with a touch of _hauteur_ that made the general
smile.

"Certainly," he hastened to say; "but in this age, when personal beauty
is said to be on the decrease, it is something to own a handsome face."

The picture-gallery was a very extensive one; it was wide and well
lighted, the floor was covered with rich crimson cloth, white statues
gleamed from amid crimson velvet hangings, the walls were covered with
rare and valuable pictures. But General Deering saw a picture that day
in the gallery which he was never to forget.

Lady Hampton was not enthusiastic about art unless there was something
to be gained by it. There was nothing to excite her cupidity now, her
last niece being married, so her ladyship could afford to take matters
calmly; she reclined at her ease on one of the crimson lounges, and
enjoyed the luxury of a quiet nap.

The general paused for a while before some of Horace Vernet's
battle-pieces; they delighted him. Pauline had walked on to the end of
the gallery, and Lady Darrell, always anxious to conciliate her, had
followed. The picture that struck the general most were the two ladies
as they stood side by side--Lady Darrell with the sheen of gold in her
hair, the soft luster of gleaming pearls on her white neck, the fairness
of her face heightened by its dainty rose-leaf bloom, her evening dress
of sweeping white silk setting off the graceful, supple lines of her
figure, all thrown into such vivid light by the crimson carpet on which
she stood and the background of crimson velvet; Pauline like some royal
lady in her trailing black robes, with the massive coils of her dark
hair wound round the graceful, haughty head, and her grand face with its
dark, glorious eyes and rich ruby l