spirited account of her visit to Todborough
Rectory.

"It was great fun," continued the girl. "Lady Mary Bloxam was
thoroughly convinced, and no doubt is still, that I was setting my cap
at Lionel Beauchamp. She had no idea that we had known each other from
childhood; and her face, when I first called him Lionel, would have
sent you into fits of laughter."

"But Lady Mary was right about one thing, Sylla. Lionel Beauchamp
would be a very nice match for you."

"Don't talk nonsense, mine aunt, or speculate upon the impossible. I
couldn't care for Lionel in that way any more than he would care for
me. I am only eighteen, and I am sure I need not think about marriage
as a speculation for some years yet."

"Well," rejoined Mrs. Wriothesley, laughing, "I am certainly not
entitled to preach worldly wisdom. I was as mercenary, speculative a
little animal at your age as you could wish to see; and what came of
it? I forgot all my prudent resolutions, fell over head and ears in
love, married the 'Rip,' and have been the genteel pauper you see me
ever since."

"Consigned to such a poor-house as this," exclaimed Sylla
melodramatically, and glancing round at the china and other knicknacks
scattered about the room, "methinks that the stings of poverty are not
so hard to bear."

"Ah, yes," replied Mrs. Wriothesley; "but then, you see, I meant to
have had my country seat, my box at the opera, my two or three
carriages, and that _my_ balls should be _the_ balls of the season."

"Now, aunt, I want to ask you one question. Mr. Cottrell told me that
you and Lady Mary were once rivals. What did he mean by that?"

"No! Did Pansey tell you that?" laughed Mrs. Wriothesley. "He has a
good memory. It's now some six or seven years ago that your cousin,
Lady Rosington, then unmarried, was staying with me for the season,
Mary Bloxam at that time was trailing that grenadier eldest girl of
hers about" (a little bit of feminine exaggeration this, the lady
referred to being only half an inch taller than Blanche), "and thought
Sir Charles would suit very well for her husband. Unluckily for Mary
Bloxam, I thought Sir Charles equally suitable for Jessie, and--well,
in short, we won."

"Ah, now I understand; and I suppose you have never been friends since.
Lady Mary told me that she saw very little of you in London now."

"That is not quite the case. I think we meet as often as formerly.
Friends we never were, but acquaintances we