"There's a picture for you!" murmured the enamoured Captain Stanley, letting his horse go as it would. "And the face is nothing to her fascination, when you come to talk to her. She has sent half London wild." Off went his hat, for the bright eyes were smiling, and the fair head bowing to him. But off went Lord Winchester's also: for a brighter smile and a more familiar recognition, though one of surprise, greeted him. "Halloa, Winchester! I say, that's too bad!" cried Captain Stanley, when they had passed. "You know her?" "Knew her before I knew you. She's Selina Dalrymple." "Selina? yes, that is her Christian name; I saw it one day on her handkerchief. Where was the use of your making a mystery over it? Why couldn't you say that you knew her?" "I made no mystery, my good fellow. I did not know it was Selina Dalrymple you were speaking of. I used to meet her years ago at Court Netherleigh. Whom has she married? What's her name?" "What is the matter with you?" cried Captain Stanley, looking at the viscount. "You call her Selina Dalrymple, and then ask what her name is. Do you suppose she bears one name, and her husband another?" "She has never married Oscar Dalrymple!" exclaimed Lord Winchester, in lively tones. "Has she?" "Her husband is the only Dalrymple I know of in the land of the living. A cold, dry, wizen-faced man." "So he, Master Oscar! it is better to be born lucky than rich. Moat Grange and its fairest flower! You did not bargain for that, once upon a time. Poor Robert Dalrymple! he was nobody's enemy but his own." "You mean her brother. He went out of the world ungenteelly, I believe, as Miss Bailey's ghost says. I did not know him." "The Oscar Dalrymples are up in town for the season, I suppose?" "Ay. They have taken part of a small house in Berkeley Street--not being rich." "Anything but that, I should fancy." "It is said that he did not want to come to town; hates it. Only, her heart was set upon it, and he can't deny her anything." "Oh, that's it, is it," returned Lord Winchester. That was it. Selina Dalrymple, the bride of a month or two, had made Oscar promise that they should spend part of the season in town. Vain, giddy, and thoughtless, Selina's heart was revelling in the pleasures of this London life, her head turned with the admiration she received. Alas! she had all too speedily forgotten the tragical end of her once-loved brother, though it came but a year ago. Amidst all this whirl of gaiety there was no time to remember _that_.