“I quite agree with you; a more perfectly conducted household it is impossible to conceive.” “I speak not of his retinue, nor of his graceful hospitalities, my Lord, nor even of his generous munificence and benevolence; these are rich men's gifts everywhere. I speak of his trusting, confiding temper; the hopeful trust he entertained of something good in men's natures at the moment he was smarting from their perfidy and ingratitude; the forgiveness towards those that injured, the unvarying kindness towards those that forgot him.” “I declare,” said Lord Netherby, smiling, “I must interdict a continuance of this panegyric, now that we have arrived, for you know Colonel Darcy was a first love of Lady Netherby.” Nothing but a courtier of Lord Netherby's stamp could have made such a speech; and while Forester became scarlet with shame and anger, a new light suddenly broke upon him, and the rancor of his mother respecting the Knight and his family was at once explained. “Now to announce you,” said Lord Netherby, gayly; “let that be my task.” And so saying, he lightly tripped up the stairs before Forester. CHAPTER XXX. A BOUDOIR. When, having passed through a suite of gorgeously furnished rooms, Forester entered the dimly lighted boudoir where his lady-mother reclined, his feelings were full of troubled emotion. The remembrance of the last time he had been there was present to his mind, mingled with anxious fears as to his approaching reception. Had he been more conversant with the “world,” he needed not to have suffered these hesitations. There are few conditions in life between which so wide a gulf yawns as that of the titled heir of a house and the younger brother. He was, then, as little prepared for the affectionate greeting that met him as for the absence of all trace of illness in her Ladyship's appearance. Both were very grateful to his feelings as he drew his chair beside her sofa, and a soft remembrance of former days of happiness stole over his pleased senses. Lord Netherby, with a fitting consideration, had left them to enjoy this interview alone, and thus their emotions were unrestrained by the presence of the only one who had witnessed their parting. Perhaps the most distinguishing trait of the closest affection is that the interruptions to its course do not involve the misery of reconciliation to enable us to return to our own place in the heart; but that, the moment of grief or anger or doubt over, we feel that we have a right to resume our influence in the breast whose thoughts have so long mingled with our own. The close ties of filial and parental love are certainly of this nature, and it must be a stubborn heart whose instincts do not tend to that forgiveness which as much blots out as it pardons past errors. Such was not Lady Netherby's. Pride of station, the ambition of leadership in certain circles, had so incorporated themselves with the better dictates of her mind that she