daughter were announced. There was a momentary hush at their entrance,
as at the advent of someone of importance, and Mrs. Winstanley came
smiling put of the firelight to welcome them, in Theodore's last
invention, which was a kind of skirt that necessitated a peculiar
gliding motion in the wearer, and was built upon the lines of a
mermaid's tail.

"How good of you!" exclaimed Mrs. Winstanley.

"We were coming through Lyndhurst, and could not resist the temptation
of coming in to see you," said the Duchess graciously. "How do you do,
Miss Tempest? Were you out with the hounds this morning? We met some
people riding home."

"I have never hunted since my father's death," Violet answered gravely;
and the Duchess was charmed with the answer and the seriously tender
look that accompanied it.

Lord Mallow was standing before the hearth, looking remarkably handsome
in full hunting costume. The well-worn scarlet coat and high black
boots became him. He had enjoyed his first day with the Forest hounds,
had escaped the bogs, and had avoided making an Absalom of himself
among the spreading beechen boughs. Bullfinch had behaved superbly over
his old ground.

Mr. and Mrs. Scobel were among those dusky figures grouped around the
wide firelit hearth, where the piled-up logs testified to the Tempest
common of estovers. Mr. Scobel was talking about the last advance
movement of the Ritualists, and expatiating learnedly upon the
Ornaments Rubric of 1559, and its bearing upon the Advertisements of
1566, with a great deal more about King Edward's first Prayer-book, and
the Act of Uniformity, to Colonel Carteret, who, from an antique
conservative standpoint, regarded Ritualists, Spirit-rappers, and
Shakers in about the same category; while Mrs. Scobel twittered
cheerily about the parish and the schools to the Colonel's bulky wife,
who was a liberal patroness of all philanthropic institutions in her
neighbourhood.

Lord Mallow came eagerly forward to recall himself to the memories of
Lady Mabel and her mother.

"I hope your grace has not forgotten me," he said; and the Duchess, who
had not the faintest recollection of his face or figure, knew that this
must be Lord Mallow. "I had the honour of being introduced to you at
Lady Dumdrum's delightful ball."

The Duchess said something gracious, and left Lord Mallow free to talk
to Lady Mabel. He reminded her of that never to be, by him, forgotten
waltz, and talked, in his low-pitched I