I was very much impressed on being told by her that the company assembled in the drawing-room included no less a person than Sir Edwin Landseer. Many years ago I had copied an engraving of one of his pictures for Mimsey Seraskier. It was called "The Challenge," or "Coming Events cast their Shadows before Them." I feasted my eyes on the wondrous little man, who seemed extremely chatty and genial, and quite unembarrassed by his fame. A guest was late, and Lord Cray, who seemed somewhat peevishly impatient for his food, exclaimed-- "Mary wouldn't be Mary if she were punctual!" Just then Mary came in--and Mary was no less a person than the Duchess of Towers! My knees trembled under me; but there was no time to give way to any such tender weakness. Lord Cray walked away with her; the procession filed into the dining room, and somewhere at the end of it my young vicaress and myself. The duchess sat a long way from me, but I met her glance for a moment, and fancied I saw again in it that glimmer of kindly recognition. My neighbor, who was charming, asked me if I did not think the Duchess of Towers the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. I assented with right good-will, and was told that she was as good as she was beautiful, and as clever as she was good (as if I did not know it); that she would give away the very clothes off her back; that there was no trouble she would not take for others; that she did not get on well with her husband, who drank, and was altogether bad and vile; that she had a great sorrow--an only child, an idiot, to whom she was devoted, and who would some day be the Duke of Towers; that she was highly accomplished, a great linguist, a great musician, and about the most popular woman in all English society. Ah! Who loved the Duchess of Towers better than this poor scribe, in whose soul she lived and shone like a bright particular star--like the sun; and who, without his knowing, was being rapidly drawn into the sphere of her attraction, as Lintot called it; one day to be finally absorbed, I trust, forever! "And who was this wonderful Duchess of Towers before she married?" I asked. "She was a Miss Seraskier. Her father was a Hungarian, a physician, and a political reformer--a most charming person; that's where she gets her manners. Her mother, whom she lost when she was quite a child, was a very beautiful Irish girl of good family, a first cousin of Lord Cray's--a Miss Desmond, who ran away with the interesting patriot. They lived somewhere near Paris. It was there that Madame Seraskier died of cholera--... What is the matter--are you ill?" [Illustration] I made out that I was faint from the heat, and concealed as well as I could the flood of emotion and bewilderment that overwhelmed me. I dared not look again at the Duchess of Towers.