Mabel and her uncle soon arrived at Aspendale Lodge, a lonely but comfortable dwelling, picturesquely situated on the slope of a wooded hill, with a large meadow spangled with daisies and buttercups behind it, from which the ascent was to take place. Augustine helped Mabel to alight, and then leading her into his house, introduced her to Mr. Verdon, a small, lightly-built man, with sharp features, and an appearance of remarkable intelligence in his keen grey eyes. Mabel was so eager to see the balloon that she could not wait until she had partaken of the breakfast to which her drive and early rising had disposed her to do full justice, but hurried into the back field. The huge ball was not yet inflated, but Mabel looked with interest on the inert mass, which was so soon to rise as if instinct with life, and was full of eager questions, which the goodnatured æronaut, himself an enthusiast on the subject, took a pleasure in answering. The breakfast was a very cheerful meal. Augustine had such a vast intellectual store always at his command, and Vernon was so completely master of the theme then most interesting to Mabel, that she listened, and occasionally joined in the conversation with the most keen delight. Then when the breakfast was concluded, and preparations were begun for inflating the balloon with gas, Mabel joyously flitted from meadow to hall, from hall to meadow, now watching Mr. Verdon’s operations, now superintending those of the housekeeper, busy in laying out the elegant collation which Augustine had ordered for his guests. Mabel was in her element, in her glory! She was to do the honours of her uncle’s house, receive her uncle’s guests; and this to a lively girl of fifteen was a dignity of no common order! As carriage after carriage arrived, Mabel welcomed every new comer, imitating Ida’s manner as well as her overflowing spirits would let her. It was her chief pleasure to tell every friend whom she knew, that she herself was to go in the balloon, to hear this one marvel at her courage, and that one envy her rare fortune,—to feel herself something of a heroine, an object of attention to those around her. Dr. Bardon was one of the earliest arrivals at Aspendale Lodge. His first question was, “Has the earl come?” Mabel replied, “Not yet;” and he gave a malicious smile. “What does the countess say to this?” inquired Mabel; “did she know that you were coming to the Lodge?” “I can scarcely make out what she knows or does not know, what she likes or does not like,” said the doctor gruffly; “but I suspect she’ll look out for the balloon. The wind, I see, is from the east; ’twill bear you in the direction of Mill Cottage.”