'Netty, I hope, loves me too,' exclaimed Alison, taking the girl--a bright little thing of some eight years or so, with a shower of clustering curls--in her arms and kissing her fondly. 'I don't think papa would consider his little entertainment complete without Netty to prattle to him.' Mrs. Trelawney, a brilliant blonde of seven and twenty, though a widow, looked almost girlish for her years; her figure was tall and eminently handsome; her white-lidded and long-lashed hazel eyes were full of brilliant expression; her manner was vivacious, and every action of her hands and head graceful in the extreme. She formed an attractive and leading feature in every circle, and usually was the centre of a group of gentlemen everywhere, and yet, singular to say, she rather avoided than courted both notice and society. When she talked she seemed the art of pleasing personified; her words, her gestures, her bright eyes, and beautiful lips were all prepossessing. She would invest petty trifles with interest; her accents were those of grace, and she could polish the point of an epigram, or say even a bold thing, better certainly than any other woman Alison had ever met. Her vivacity was said to approach folly; but even in her moments of folly, she was always interesting. On the other hand she had times of depression almost amounting to gloom, most singular even to those who knew her best, and it was averred that, though not very rich, she had refused many eligible offers, and preferred the perfect freedom of widowhood. 'And now, dear,' she said, as she took an accustomed seat in the drawing-room, 'tell me all who are coming.' 'Well, there is Lord Cadbury.' 'Of course.' 'And Captain Goring.' 'Of course,' said the pretty widow, fanning herself, though a crystal screen was between her and the fire. 'Why of course?' asked Alison, colouring; 'and there is Jerry Wilmot--your devoted--and Captain Dalton, who will be sure to fall in love with you.' At Dalton's name Mrs. Trelawney changed colour; indeed she grew so perceptibly pale, while her lips quivered, that Alison remarked it. 'Dearest, what agitates you so? Do you know him?' asked the girl. 'No--not at all!' 'What then----' 'I knew one of the same name who did me--let me rather say--my family--a great wrong.' 'But he cannot be the same person.' 'Oh, no. Besides, this Captain Dalton has just come from India with his regiment. And so you think he will be sure to fall in love with me?' added Mrs. Trelawney, recovering her colour and her smiles; 'and I with him perhaps.' 'That does not follow; but he seems just the kind of man I think a widow might fall in love with--handsome and manly, grave, earnest, and sympathetic.' 'But he may share in the aversion of Mr. Weller, senior, and have his tendency to beware of widows. I feel certain, Alison dear, that your Captain Dalton will never suit me.' 'You have seen him, then?' 'Yes--with the buckhounds the other day.'