In December, 1866, Lady Harriet Sarah Moncrieffe, then eighteen years of age, and surpassingly beautiful in person, and most graceful in manner, was married to Sir Charles Mordaunt, of Walton Hall, Warwickshire, who was then twenty-nine years of age, and a very wealthy bachelor, possessing one of the finest country seats, with mansion and grounds, in all England. The main buildings alone were erected at an expense of over $350,000 of American money, and to this most delightful and picturesque spot the young bride was taken to spend the honeymoon. Everything that the heart of a fashionably bred woman could desire was hers, she had troops of servants, a fine old baronial mansion, a large stable full of horses, a yacht, a gallery of paintings, a villa on the Continent, equippages, diamonds, ladies'-maids, and a town house in London. And beside her lightest word was law to her loving husband. She had been presented to the Queen, and in her life-pathway sunshine fell and gladdened her young spirit. But there was a canker in the bud--a skeleton in the closet--as there always is. Lady Mordaunt had loved below her station before she married Sir Charles, and had sought to marry the object of her affection, but her mother, who was a very worldly minded woman, was determined that she should marry the rich Sir Charles Mordaunt, who had houses and lands, while "poor Robin Adair" had to go about his business. Of course the natural consequences had to come. Sir Charles had a yacht, and now and then went on cruises to Norway and up the Baltic, and ran his craft from Erith to the Nore, and on many a sunny day the snowy jib-sail of his boat was seen from afar by those nautical minded people who frequent the breakwater at Cherbourg. When he was at home he was either hunting with the Warwickshire hounds, or looking for plover and grouse on Scotch moors. Any other spare time he had was taken up in his parliamentary duties, for he had the ineffable honor of signing "M.P." after his name. And the young, gay, beautiful, and high spirited Lady Mordaunt--how was it with her? Being left very much alone, she developed herself. She delighted in balls, the Italian--yes, and the Bouffe Opera, she liked Croquet parties, garden parties, Crystal Palace concerts, and flirtations, and one evening, in company with Captain Farquhar, an officer of the Guards, she visited the "Alhambra," a celebrated dancing hall, which is supported by the London demi-monde. [Sidenote: IN BAD COMPANY.]