“I wish to beg the jewel for my mother.” “What is she like?” He smiled. “Words cannot describe her; to my eyes, the perfection of beauty and loveliness. As innocent and simple and free from care or evil as the light.” “You don’t resemble her, do you?” asked Rosalie, unconscious of the bitterness of her remark. He laughed, perceiving it. “You may rest safely assured there. I know no one who resembles her.” “Is she kind?” “The essence of it.” “Then what of Mariana, and such as she?” His brow clouded. “You ask questions I’m not disposed to answer.” “Ah! but I’m thinking of my jewel. I love it so. Your mother would not value it a tenth part as much as I. Nay, before to-day it, and others like it, have been reckoned rubbish. She might think so too.” “Give me leave to take it to her, and await her verdict. If she underrates it, I’ll bring it back to you.” “I’m afraid I must give the dragon so strong a dose there’ll be no life left in it.” “If it is what you told me, the more honour remains to you in killing it with such a potion.” And Rosalie laughed, but her eyes were wonderfully serious, and she said simply: “I’ll give it to you, Mr. Barringcourt, because it seems to me to love one’s mother is the greatest and the simplest thing in the duty towards one’s neighbour, if that mother is as she should be. And it is more than pleasant to me to know that somewhere in the wide universe there is someone who has broken through the natural hardness of your heart, and called forth a respect and love of which I never thought you capable.” The remaining days till New Year’s Eve passed quickly. The weather was gloriously fine, the sunsets unequalled. Early in the evening Mariana arrived, and brought with her a large box containing the dress and other things. She came in a carriage drawn by chestnut horses, not occupants of the stables at Marble House. Rosalie came out into the hall to meet her, and kissed her with affection, which Mariana in her colder way returned. Together they went upstairs, Rosalie suddenly finding herself very short of words to express her delight at meeting this old friend. And it was Mariana who dressed her completely, from the arranging of her hair to the tying on of her clog-shaped, satin-jewelled slippers. And oh! what a dress! With designs of lovers’ knots worked in delicately-tinted jewels all over its shining surface, and a train that hung from the shoulders in showers of priceless lace. It was studded with jewels in the bodice, and on her hair was placed a tiara that stood high, and had the same design worked in diamonds. Clasps of gold and jewels were on her arms, and round her neck one fine chain of gold—no other ornament. “I’m afraid, after all, Mariana,” said she at length, “your great ambition has not come to pass.” “What thing was that?” “You wished it for a wedding-dress.” “I am content to see it as it is, and you so beautiful.” “And when to-night is over you will want it back?”