The dresses had arrived, after the prospective wearers had endured unspeakable tortures from the fear of their non-arrival. The stage was erected in the billiard-room, and never was temporary theatre more complete in its arrangements. Mrs. Lobyer's spirits rose with the prospect of her triumph; and Mr. Lobyer grew more disdainfully indifferent to his wife's folly as the important moment drew near. The sixteenth of January was to be altogether a very grand day at Pevenshall. There was to be a hunt-breakfast in the morning, a dinner-party in the evening; after the dinner the private theatricals; and after that display of amateur talent a ball, at which the performers in the comedy were to appear in their stage-dresses. So far as Mr. Lobyer could be interested in any thing but the money-market, he was interested in the hunt-breakfast and the dinner, at both of which entertainments the men of his own set were to muster in full force. The master of Pevenshall had the chance of pleasure at a very early period of his existence, and not being gifted with a very large stock of vivacity, had speedily exhausted the effervescence of his nature. For the last few years of his life all the force of his mind, all the energy of his character, had been directed towards the one end and aim of the successful trader. To make twenty per cent. where other men were making fifteen; to anticipate the future of the money market; to foreshadow the influence of coming events, and to enrich himself by such foresight,--for this Mr. Lobyer spent his days in meditation, and his sleepless nights in care and anguish. But he was still capable, in his own stolid way, of taking some kind of pleasure out of the splendour of his surroundings, the skill of his cook, the perfection of his wines, and the homage which he received from the minions of the money-market. He felt a grim satisfaction in the knowledge that his wife was beautiful, and that other men admired her and envied him because he was her husband. If he had been an Oriental potentate, he would have taken to himself a hundred wives--not so much for his own happiness as in the hope that other potentates who could boast only fifty wives would envy him the delights of his harem. Not being an Oriental potentate, he had done the best he could in uniting himself to the prettiest woman and the most insolent coquette he had encountered. He had gratified himself, to the annoyance and mortification of other people. From his childhood he had been fully alive to the advantage of being the son of a millionaire, of having been in a manner born in the commercial purple; and the desire of his life had been that all his belongings should be infinitely superior to the belongings of other people. If another millionaire had arisen in the county, and had built for himself a larger place than Pevenshall, Mr. Lobyer would have commissioned Messrs. Foster to dispose of Pevenshall to the highest