urned
William Ferrars to Parliament, a little man, quite, shy, rather
insignificant in appearance, but who observed everybody and everything;
a conscientious man, who was always doing good, in silence and secrecy,
and denounced as a boroughmonger, had never sold a seat in his life, and
was always looking out for able men of character to introduce them to
public affairs. It was not a formal party, but had grown up in great
degree out of the circumstances of the moment. There were more men than
women, and all men in office or devoted supporters of the new ministry.

Mrs. Ferrars, without being a regular beauty, had a voluptuous face and
form. Her complexion was brilliant, with large and long-lashed eyes of
blue. Her mouth was certainly too large, but the pouting richness of her
lips and the splendour of her teeth baffled criticism. She was a woman
who was always gorgeously or fantastically attired.

"I never can understand," would sometimes observe Zenobia's husband to
his brilliant spouse, "how affairs are carried on in this world. Now we
have, my dear, fifty thousand per annum; and I do not see how Ferrars
can have much more than five; and yet he lives much as we do, perhaps
better. I know Gibson showed me a horse last week that I very much
wanted, but I would not give him two hundred guineas for it. I called
there to-day to look after it again, for it would have suited me
exactly, but I was told I was too late, and it was sold to Mrs.
Ferrars."

"My dear, you know I do not understand money matters," Zenobia said in
reply. "I never could; but you should remember that old Ferrars must be
very rich, and that William Ferrars is the most rising man of the day,
and is sure to be in the Cabinet before he is forty."

Everybody had an appetite for dinner to-day, and the dinner was worthy
of the appetites. Zenobia's husband declared to himself that he never
dined so well, though he gave his _chef_ 500 pounds a year, and old Lord
Pomeroy, who had not yet admitted French wines to his own table, seemed
quite abashed with the number of his wine-glasses and their various
colours, and, as he tasted one succulent dish after another, felt a
proud satisfaction in having introduced to public life so distinguished
a man as William Ferrars.

With the dessert, not without some ceremony, were introduced the two
most remarkable guests of the entertainment, and these were the twins;
children of singular beauty, and dressed, if possible, mo