Burton, by one of those sudden rebounds of spirit to which he was subject, inspired by the gaiety about him was in a perfect glow of intellectual fire. The brilliancy of his well trained mind never shone more brightly, his wit scintillated in apt epigrams, and incomparably clever metaphors. He won the heart of the German Ambassador by discussing with the taste and discrimination of a savant that distinguished Teuton’s favorite composer, Herman, using the deep gutturals of the German language with the ease of a native of Prussia. He exchanged bon-mots with wicked old Countess DeMille, who declared him a _preux chevalier_ and the only American whom she had ever met who spoke her language, so she called French, like a Parisian. Lucy’s beaming face and sparkling eyes told of the rapture of pride and love that filled her heart. She looked indeed the “Princess” as with her well-turned head, with its gold-brown crown, held high, she proudly looked upon her lover and her lord and caught the approval and applause that appeared in every eye about her. Never had her husband seemed so much superior to all other men, in Lucy’s mind, as he did this night. Wherever they paused in their passage around the rooms, that spot immediately became the center of a group of people eager to render homage to the regal beauty of the young matron, and to enjoy the wit and vivacity of the most _distingue_ man present. “Ah, Mr. Burton, I see that the splendor of the Rose of Dunlap remains undiminished, notwithstanding its transference from the garden of its early growth,” said the gallant Governor of the old Bay State when greeting the young couple as they stopped near him. “The splendor of the roses of Massachusetts is so transcendent that it would remain unimpaired in any keeping how e’er unworthy,” replied Lucy’s husband, bowing gracefully to the Executive of the State. “When I saw you enter the room, Mrs. Burton, I hoped to see my old friend, your grandfather, follow. How is James? You see I take the liberty of still speaking of him as I did many years before your bright eyes brought light into the Dunlap mansion.” “Grandfather is very well, thank you, Governor, but I failed to coax him away from his easy chair and slippers this evening; beside I think he was a little ‘grump,’ as I call it, about having lost a wager to a certain young woman of about my height; he declared it was not the box of gloves but loss of prestige that he disliked,” answered Lucy merrily as she looked up at the amused countenance of the Governor. “I fear that I shall be obliged to exercise my official prerogative and give that gay youth, James Dunlap, a lecture if I hear anything more of his reckless wagers,” said the jocose old gentleman, and then added: