d their bells, and the ladies
vanished.

"Stunning pair that!" was young Strangeways' exclamation.

"Most beautiful!" murmured Cecil, in a low voice, as if she was
quite dazzled. "You never said she was like that," she added
reproachfully to Julius.

"Our encounter was in the dark," he answered.

"Oh, I did not mean the young one, but Lady Tyrrell. She is just
like a gem we saw at Firenze--which was it?"

"Where?" said Raymond, bewildered.

"Firenze--Florence," she said, deigning to translate; and finding
her own reply. "Ah, yes, the Medusa!" then, as more than one
exclaimed in indignant dismay, she said, "No, not the Gorgon, but
the beautiful winged head, with only two serpents on the brow and
one coiled round the neck, and the pensive melancholy face."

"I know," said Julius, shortly; while the other gentlemen entered
into an argument, some defending the beauty of the younger sister,
some of the elder; and it lasted till they entered the park, where
all were glad to partake of their well-earned meal, most of the
gentlemen having been at work since dawn without sustenance, except
a pull at the beer served out to the firemen.

Cecil was not at all shy, and was pleased to take her place as
representative lady of the house; but somehow, though every one was
civil and attentive to her, she found herself effaced by the more
full-blown Rosamond, accustomed to the same world as the guests; and
she could not help feeling the same sense of depression as when she
had to yield the head of her father's table to her step-mother.

Nor could she have that going to church for the first time in state
with her bridegroom she had professed to dread, but had really
anticipated with complacency; for though Julius had bidden the bells
to be rung for afternoon service, Raymond was obliged to go back to
Wil'sbro' to make arrangements for the burnt-out families, and she
had to go as lonely as Anne herself.

Lady Tyrrell and her sister were both at Compton Church, and
overtook the three sisters-in-law as they were waiting to be joined
by the Rector.

"We shall have to take shelter with you," said Lady Tyrrell, "poor
burnt-out beings that we are."

"Do you belong to Wil'sbro'?" said Rosamond.

"Yes; St. Nicholas is an immense straggling parish, going four miles
along the river. I don't know how we shall ever be able to go back
again to poor old Mr. Fuller. You'll never get rid of us from
Compton."

"I suppose they will s