CHAPTER XIII.

'NOW HALF TO THE SETTING MOON HAVE GONE, AND HALF TO THE RISING DAY.

THE dinner party is over, the county families have retired to their several abodes. They are dispersed, like the soft summer mist which has melted from the moorland with the broadening light of the harvest moon.

Madge, Viola, and Lady Cheshunt are assembled in Mrs. Penwyn's dressing-room, a long, low room, with a wide and deep bow-window at one end, and three other old-fashioned windows, with broad cushioned seats therein-a room made for lounging and pleasant idleness, and half-hours with the best authors. Every variety of the genus easy chair is there, chintz-covered, and blossoming with all the flowers of the garden, as they only bloom upon chintz, large, gorgeous, and unaffected by aphides or

blight of any kind. There are tables here and there -gipsy tables, loaded with new books and other trumpery. There is a large Duchesse dressing table in one of the windows, and an antique ebony wardrobe, with richly carved doors, in a convenient recess; but baths, and all the paraphernalia of the toilet, are in a small chamber adjoining; this large apartment being rather a morning-room, or boudoir, than dressing-room proper.

There are water-colour landscapes and little bits of genre on the walls, by famous modern masters; a portrait of Churchill Penwyn, in crayon, hangs over the velvet-covered mantel-board; there are dwarf bookcases containing Madge's own particular library, the poets, old and new, Scott, Bulwer, Dickens, Thackeray, Carlyle; altogether the room has just those homely lovable characteristics which make rooms dear to their owners.

To-night the windows are all open to the soft summer air. The day has been oppressively warm, and the breath of night brings welcome refreshment to jaded humanity. Madge sits before her dressingtable, slowly unclasping her jewels as she talks. Her

maid has been dismissed, Mrs. Penwyn being in no wise dependent on her Abigail's help; and the jewelcase, with its dark velvet lining, stands open on the wide marble slab. Lady Cheshunt lies back in the deepest and softest of the easy chairs, fanning herself with a big black and gold fan, a large and splendid figure in amber satin and hereditary rose-point lace, which one of the queens of Spain had presented to the dowager's mother when her husband was ambassador at Madrid. She looks like a picture by Rubens, large and fair, and full of colour.

'Well, my love, all dinner parties are more or less heavy, but upon the whole your county people were better than I expected,' remarked the dowager, with her authoritative air. 'I have seen duller parties in the home counties. Your people seemed to enjoy themselves, and that is a point gained, however dull their talk of the births, marriages, and deaths of their belongings might be to nous autres. They have a placid belief that their conversation is entertaining which is really the next best thing to being really amusing. In a word, my dear Madge, I was not nearly so much bored as I expected to be.-Those

diamonds are positively lovely, child; where did you get them?'

Madge had just taken her necklace-a string of large single stones-from her neck, and was laying it in its velvet nest.

'They are heirlooms; some of them, at least,' she answered, and came to Churchill with the estate. They had been locked up in an old tin cashbox at the county bank for a quarter of a century, I believe, and nobody seemed to know anything about them. They were described in the old Squire's will as "sundry jewels in a tin box at the bank." Churchill had the stones reset, and bought a good many more to complete the set.'

'Well, my dear, they are worthy of a duchess. I hope you are careful of them.'

'I don't think it is in Madge's nature to be careful of anything now she is rich,' said Viola. 'She was thoughtful and saving enough when we lived with poor papa, and when it was such a hard struggle to keep out of debt. But now she has plenty of money she scatters it right and left, and is perpetually enjoying the luxury of giving.'

'But I am not careless about my diamonds, Viola. Mills will come presently, and carry off this box to the iron safe in the plate-room.'

'I never believed much in plate-rooms,' said Lady Cheshunt. A plate-room with its iron door is a kind of invitation to burglars. It tells them where the riches of the house are concentrated. When I am in other people's houses I generally keep my jewel-case on my dressing-table, but I take care to have it labelled "Gloves," and that it looks as little like a jewel-case as possible. I wouldn't trust it in anybody's plate-room. There, child, you are yawning, I see, in spite of your efforts to conceal the operation.-Come, Viola, your sister is tired after the mental strain she has undergone, in pretending to be interested in all those people's innumerable relations.'.

The ladies kissed and parted with much affection, and Madge was left alone, to sit by her dressingtable in a dreamy attitude, forgetful of the lateness of the hour.

It was a sad thought which kept her musing there while the night deepened, and the harvest moon