Lady Larch was the next arrival, and as she was famous for her smile, she used it freely, not fatiguing herself by listening to remarks, or making them. In her youth she had been called bonnie; she was still pleasant to look upon. She talked very little, and perhaps on this account her few sayings were treasured, repeated throughout society, and much esteemed. "Surely it is a mistake to give men the notion that all good women are dull" was one of her classic utterances. Another ran, "Those who are happy do not trouble about the woes of the human race." Another, "The Dissenters belong essentially to a non-governing class--a vulgar class." These will serve to show the scope of her observation and the excellence of her intentions. In fact, she was often found dull. She was not especially disturbed about the woes of humanity, and her maternal grandfather had been a Presbyterian cotton-merchant. She bore Pole-Knox away to a far corner and begged to be told all the latest details of Miss Carillon's abominable conduct. "I do not exactly know," said she, "the state of things. The poor dear Bishop must be in a dreadful state." Orange came in with Aumerle and Hartley Penborough. Lady Augusta, who was a kind, sincere woman, pressed his hand warmly, and showed with her eyes that she appreciated the difficulties of his position. He had aged, Sara thought, and he looked as though he suffered from sleeplessness; otherwise, in manner and in all ways, he was just as he had always been. Sara looked at him, and, looking, she read the secret thoughts in his mind. Yes, she was to him, no doubt, the undisciplined, passionate girl who lived on admiration, excitement, and false romance. He owned her beauty; he excused her faults; he liked her. Of all this she was certain. Reckage's warning had encouraged her to believe that Orange's self-control was a hard achievement--by no means any matter of a disposition naturally cold. If it were merely to be a struggle of wills, her will would prove the stronger. She meant to have her way this time. Wasn't it the critical moment of his life? Every instinct had been roused--ambition, the love of adventure, the love of a woman. For a short while the means had been given him, humanly speaking, of gratifying these great passions. And then, at a stroke, he was once more poor and dependent, once more in a ridiculous position, and the woman he loved was further from his reach than ever. He still had the privilege of fighting and breaking his heart in the market-place. He could still enjoy some kind of a career. Yet the long, embittering struggle with poverty and disappointed affection could but appear to him now desolate indeed, barely worth the difficult prizes of success. Lady Sara was young, and she made the mistake, eternally peculiar to her sex, of placing love first, rather than last, among the forces in a strong nature. No powerful being ever yet either stood by the glory, or fell by