Yet the house in which the girl lived was the dwelling of wealthy people. The great rooms teemed with costly furniture and all the exquisite accessories which money could supply. The grounds were extensive and tastefully laid out, the stables were well-filled, and luxurious vehicles of many kinds were at the command of the master and mistress of The Chase, as the place was named. In the drawing-room, three ladies were seated. They wore mourning dresses, but these differed widely from the poor garment which was thought good enough for Joyce Mirlees. Everything that could make mourning rich, tasteful, and handsome had been done to set off the portly person of Mrs. Walter Evans and the slender figures of her two handsome daughters. A few moments would, however, have shown to any stranger that only the semblance of refinement existed in Mrs. Evans. Wealth she had in abundance. She was the daughter of a successful speculator and for her wealth alone had Walter Evans sought her as his wife. He gained this, but paid dearly for it. Though he was a man of birth and education, he had bound himself to a woman who possessed neither, and who was equally deficient in the amiability and goodness of disposition which might have done much to make amends for a lack of the rest. Mrs. Evans was equally vulgar and purse-proud. She did not hesitate to put her husband in mind of his indebtedness to her wealth, or even to hint that she might have bestowed it and herself better than upon him. Brought up under such a mother, it was scarcely likely that the girls, Adelaide and Augusta, would be noted for refinement or delicacy of feeling. Taught to pride themselves on wealth, they owned no excellence if unaccompanied by it. Consequently, they only bestowed a contemptuous pity on their cousin, Joyce Mirlees, who, through adverse circumstances, had been driven to accept the temporary shelter of The Chase. It had been grudgingly granted by Mrs. Evans, "until something could be done with the girl," because there was absolutely nowhere else for her to go. Joyce, though the only daughter of Mr. Evans' only sister, was not likely to be welcomed by a lady who owned that there was "nothing she detested like poor relations." True, the girl came from a comparatively poor home, a little country vicarage, of which and of her father she had been the light and joy, until death called him and left her alone. Mrs. Evans said bitter things on the occasion. "It is monstrous for people of small means to marry when there is no prospect of their providing for a family. I call it wicked, and one sees the most of this improvidence where we ought to look for a better example, amongst the poor clergy. But I suppose your brother-in-law reckoned on his daughter being provided for here." Mrs. Evans said this to her husband, and his reply did not improve her temper.