The quiet, gentle manner of the young girl, the almost humble simplicity of her dress, at once suggested to Mrs. Ricketts the tone proper for the occasion, and she decided on being natural; which, to say truth, was the most remote thing from nature it is well possible to conceive. Poor Nelly was not, however, a very shrewd critic, and she felt quite happy to be so much at her ease as they walked along to the house together. Mrs. Ricketts saw that Kate was the key-note to all her sister's affection, and therefore talked away of her unceasingly. To have heard her, one would have thought they had been inseparable, and that Kate had confided to the dear old lady the most secret thoughts of her heart. The amiable Zoe did, indeed, contrive to effect this rather by the aid of an occasional sigh, a tone of lamentation and sorrow, than by direct assertion; all conveying the impression that she was cut to the heart about something, but would rather be “brayed in a mortar” than tell it. Martha's mild and submissive manner won rapidly on Nelly, and she wondered whether Kate had liked her. In fact, the visitors were all so very unlike the usual company her father presented to her, she felt disposed to think the best of them; and even Scroope came in for a share of her good opinion. The interior of the villa changed the current of conversation, and now Mrs. Ricketts felt herself at home examining the rich brocade of the hangings, the bronzes, and the inlaid tables. “Lyons silk,----twenty-four francs a metre!” whispered she to Scroope. “I thought they had n't a s-s-sixpence,” observed the other. “And these things are new, Scroope!--all new!” “I--I--I was observing that, sister.” “What a creature he is, Scroope!--what a creature!” “And the daughter, I suspect, is only ha-ha-half-witted.” “Humph!” ejaculated Zoe, as though she did not quite coincide with that opinion. The confidential dialogue was broken in upon by Dalton, who, having dragged the poor General over the terrace and the flower-garden, was now showing him the inside of the dwelling. “If I could but see dear Kate here!” sighed Mrs. Ricketts, as she slowly sank into a downy chair, “I'd fancy this was home. It's all so like herself,--such graceful elegance, such tasteful splendor.” “It's neat,----I think it's neat,” said Dalton, almost bursting with the effort to repress his delight. [Illustration: 250] “Oh, sir, it's princely! It's worthy the great name of its possessor. Dear Kate often told me of her beautiful home.” “I thought you li-li-lived over a toy-shop? Foglass said you li-lived--” “So we did while the place was getting ready,” said Dalton, flushing. “Just let me sit here, and watch the rippling of that shining river!” sighed Mrs. Ricketts, laying her hand on Dalton's, and, by a melting look, withdrawing him from Scroope's unlucky reminiscence. “If I could but pass the night here, I feel it would be ecstasy.”