massive
wreaths around the carved balustrades of that broad oaken
staircase--were duplicated over and over again in the height and breadth
of those noble mirrors. They formed a blooming border around the oaken
floors, black with age and bright with polish, of the dancing-rooms. The
gilded orchestras were interlaced with them, and, in every group of
plants or clustering wreath, jets of gas twinkled out like stars,
casting tremulous shadows from the leaves, and lending a richer color to
the blossoms.

When the first carriage load of guests came sweeping across the stone
terrace, Lady Carset left her dressing-room, and, leaning on the arm of
Lord Hope, took her place in the central drawing-room, with gentle
dignity, and stood, with the gaslight quivering around her, touching up
the richness of her purple garments with golden ripples of light, and
striking out rainbows from the great Carset diamonds, which held, and
gathered up the woven moonlight of her lace shawl on those dainty,
sloping shoulders and delicate bust, which had not known such ornaments
for years. A ripple of these noble jewels ran through the soft waves of
her hair, and held the tuft of Marchant feathers and lappets of gossamer
lace back from her left temple, whence they floated off gently into the
snow of her hair, scarcely whiter than it was. A lovelier representative
of the grandest aristocracy on earth, or a more dainty lady of the olden
times, had never, since its foundation, done the honors of Houghton
Castle. But the sweet old lady was already forced to exert all her
strength, that nothing should fall short of the old hospitality on this
the last fete she ever expected to give.

Lady Clara had followed her, half dancing, half floating down that broad
staircase, jerking blossoms from the plants as she went, and forming
them into a tiny bouquet for her grandmother. Her dress was just one
cloud of silvery whiteness. A little cluster of moss rose buds on the
left shoulder, and another in her belt, were all the ornaments she wore.
She had insisted, with almost passionate vehemence, that no mention of
her heirship should be made that night, and the old lady consented with
reluctance, but appeased her own impatience by a grand festival to all
her tenants and retainers in the park, where nothing had been omitted
which, in feudal times, was considered proper when the heirship of
Houghton was proclaimed. Still, in words, the old lady had kept
honorable silen