'Chevenix again!' said his mother, with a cloudy eye and curling lip; 'the lawyer man?' 'Who else, mother dear? Now, don't be absurd. There is no other Chevenix in all Hampshire. They must be asked--he and his daughter.' 'The girl is said to look well in a drawing-room.' 'She looks lovely!' exclaimed Jerry, incautiously. 'She was a mere hobbledehoy when you and she used to play at battledore and croquet together.' 'She is, I repeat, a very lovely woman now, mother,' continued Jerry, with enthusiasm. 'You have seen her lately?' asked the elderly lady, in a casual tone. 'Yes; often at a hop in Willis's Rooms, at the camp balls, with the buckhounds, and at Mrs. Trelawney's.' 'Who is Mrs. Trelawney?' asked Lady Julia, languidly, while elevating her delicately pencilled eyebrows. 'A widow who lives near Aldershot, at a place called Chilcote Grange.' 'Ah!' Jerry laughed softly, as he thought how familiar his lady-mother might have been with the fair widow's name had she not rejected his attention, and laughed him off cavalierly as he thought at the time. 'There is every reason in the world why we must have Miss Chevenix, mother,' persisted Jerry, colouring with vexation as he returned to the charge; 'she is highly accomplished, and sings well.' 'Taught well, no doubt--people of that kind send their children to the best schools now. 'I should like you to hear her voice.' 'Thanks--not here, at all events,' said Lady Julia, shrugging her shoulders, 'the girl must be forward enough--rides with the buckhounds, you say?' 'Every one does.' 'The reason, perhaps, she goes there.' 'I can assure you, mother, that Bel--Miss Chevenix--is a very proud girl.' 'Likely enough--many vulgarians are; but, if she is so proud as you say, we must teach her what her real position is--the daughter of a village attorney--of our local agent--the granddaughter of a farmer.' 'One of the oldest families on the estate.' 'Enough--she will make the hundred and fourth person invited.' 'If she accepts,' said Jerry. '_If_ she accepts!' repeated his mother, with elevated brows, as she added the girl's name to her list, and tossed the golden pen from her white jewelled fingers. 'At the last meet at Salthill, she came with Miss Cheyne of Essilmont,' said Jerry. 'I have heard of that girl--the daughter of a broken-down Scottish baronet. But all kinds of horrid people go, with the highest in rank, to these rough gatherings.' 'Glad Goring did not hear you,' said Jerry, glancing nervously towards the pair at the piano. 'Why?' 'He is rather spooney in that quarter.' 'Don't use camp slang, Jerry--which quarter--the Chevenix girl?' 'No, Miss Cheyne,' replied her son, in a low voice. 'Emily,' said Lady Julia, 'I have added that girl's name to our list--you will see that an invitation is sent to her and her father to-morrow.'