'Don't call it my good fortune,' said Ida; 'I am glad my father is better off; but I was happier when I was poor.' 'And yet you used to say such bitter things about poverty?' 'Yes, I was a worshipper of Mammon in those days; but now I have got inside the temple and have found out that he is a false god.' 'He is not a god, but a devil. "The least erected spirit that fell from heaven." My poor Ida! And so you have found out that there are dust and ashes inside golden apples! Never mind; you will learn to enjoy the privileges and comforts of wealth better when you are better used to being rich. And in the meantime tell me that you are happy in your married life, that you and Brian are getting on pleasantly together.' 'We never quarrel,' said Ida, looking downward. 'Oh, that is a bad sign. Tell me something better than that.' 'You all told me that it was my duty to live with my husband. I am trying to do my duty,' Ida answered gravely. There was no radiance upon her face now. All the happiness--the unselfish delight of welcoming her friends--had faded, and left her pale and despondent. She threw off all gloomy thoughts presently, and was running about the house, showing her friends their rooms, giving directions to servants, making a good deal more fuss, and making more use of her own hands, than the author of 'La Crême de la Crême' would have tolerated. 'A lady's hands,' said that exalted personage, 'are not for use, but for ornament. Her first object should be to preserve their delicacy of form and colour; her second to be always _bien gantée_. She should never lift anything heavier than her teacup; and she should rather endure some inconvenience from cold while waiting the attendance of her footman than she should so far derogate from feminine dignity as to put on a shovel of coals. The rule of her life should be to do nothing which her domestics or her _dame de compagnie_ can do for her.' 'My dearest Ida,' remonstrated Lady Palliser, remembering this classic passage, 'what do you mean by carrying that bag?' Are there no servants in the house?' 'Half-a-dozen too many, mamma; but I like to do something with my own hands for those I love.' Lady Palliser sighed, recalling the days when she had cooked her husband's breakfasts and dinners, and had been happier--so it seemed to her now--in performing that domestic duty than in giving orders to a housekeeper of whom she stood in awe. But Fanny Palliser had made up her mind that she ought to become a fine lady, in order to do credit to her husband's altered fortunes, and she was working assiduously with that intent.