Of course, in an easy, regulated household like that of Sir Marmaduke Wentworth, there was no need of special strategy. Years ago, on her first visit, she had selected her apartments, and had had them reserved for her ever since. Pleasant apartments they were, large, airy, and with a glorious look-out across the garden over the surrounding downs. When the windows were open, as they always were when practicable during Miss Lexden's tenancy,--for the old lady was a great lover of fresh air,--the rooms were filled with the perfume of the flowers, occasionally mixed with fresh, healthy sea-smell. These had been the state-rooms in the Grange, in bygone times; and when Miss Lexden first came there, there was a huge bed, with nodding plumes at the foot, and a great canopy, and high-backed solemn chairs, and a big wardrobe like a family mausoleum but the old lady had all these cleared away, and persuaded Sir Marmaduke to refurnish the rooms with a suite of light maple and moss-rosebud chintz, with looking-glass let into the panels of the wardrobe, and snug little low chairs scattered about; and then with a chintz paper, and water-colour drawings in light frames, the place was so changed that the old housekeeper, who had been in the family for years, scarcely knew it again, and was loud in her lamentations over the desecration. Miss Lexden was a lazy old lady, who always breakfasted in bed, and when staying on a visit at a country house generally remained the greater portion of the day in her room. She was accustomed to say with great freedom that she did not amuse the young people and they certainly did not amuse her, and that she hated all old people except herself. She was a great correspondent of all kinds of people, wrote lengthy epistles in very excellent French to all kinds of refugees, who were perpetually turning up in different parts of Europe, and working the oracle for their own purposes; wrote lengthy epistles to American statesmen on the slavery question, to English lecturers on subjects of political economy, and to her special friends on all points of domestic scandal. I fear that, with the exception of the last, her correspondence was not much regarded, as she never sent to refugees any thing but her blessing and her prayers; and these, even though coming from an English _miladi_, were not discountable at any _Geld-wechsel Comptoir_ on the Continent. But her _Chronique Scandaleuse_ was delicious; it was bold in invention, full in detail, and always written in the most pointed and epigrammatic style. There were people who obtained autumn invitations, on the sheer strength of their being recipients of Miss Lexden's correspondence. Extracts from her letters were read publicly at the breakfast-table, and created the greatest delight. "Good as a book, by Jove!" was a frequent comment on them; "full of humour, and that kind of thing; sort of thing that fellow writes and people pay money for, by Jove! ought to send it to