idence on the continent. A large lamp of Dresden china was suspended
from the painted and gilded ceiling. The three tall windows opened on
the gardens, and admitted a perfume so rich and various, that Ferdinand
could easily believe the fair mistress, as she told him, was indeed a
lover of flowers. A light bridge in the distant wood, that bounded the
furthest lawn, indicated that a stream was at hand. What with the beauty
of the chamber, the richness of the exterior scene, and the bright
sun that painted every object with its magical colouring, and made
everything appear even more fair and brilliant, Ferdinand stood for some
moments quite entranced. A door opened, and Mr. Temple came forward and
welcomed him with cordiality.

After they had passed a half-hour in looking at the pictures and
in conversation to which they gave rise, Mr. Temple, proposing an
adjournment to luncheon, conducted Ferdinand into a dining-room, of
which the suitable decorations wonderfully pleased his taste. A subdued
tint pervaded every part of the chamber: the ceiling was painted in
grey tinted frescoes of a classical and festive character, and the side
table, which stood in a recess supported by four magnificent columns,
was adorned with choice Etruscan vases. The air of repose and
stillness which distinguished this apartment was heightened by the vast
conservatory into which it led, blazing with light and beauty, groups
of exotic trees, plants of radiant tint, the sound of a fountain, and
gorgeous forms of tropic birds.

'How beautiful!' exclaimed Ferdinand.

''Tis pretty,' said Mr. Temple, carving a pasty, 'but we are very humble
people, and cannot vie with the lords of Gothic castles.'

'It appears to me,' said Ferdinand, 'that Ducie Bower is the most
exquisite place I ever beheld.'

'If you had seen it two years ago you would have thought differently,'
said Mr. Temple; 'I assure you I dreaded becoming its tenant. Henrietta
is entitled to all the praise, as she took upon herself the whole
responsibility. There is not on the banks of the Brenta a more dingy and
desolate villa than Ducie appeared when we first came; and as for the
gardens, they were a perfect wilderness. She made everything. It was
one vast, desolate, and neglected lawn, used as a sheep-walk when we
arrived. As for the ceilings, I was almost tempted to whitewash them,
and yet you see they have cleaned wonderfully; and, after all, it only
required a little taste and labour