"Not in the hall," said Regina, who was not strong in the point of humor, "not in the hall, Julia darling." After that the evening passed over very quietly. Julia ran over to the house of Marksby and was seen no more till bed-time. Alfred sat down in his own special easy-chair in the cool, pleasant drawing-room, and, over a pretence of reading the newest art journal, gently dosed off into slumber, and Regina, in her corresponding chair in the big bow window, sat and thought she would leave nothing to chance. As for fate, she would brave it. Like her husband, she was making a pretence of reading, and as she sat thinking things over she became conscious that she was looking at the portrait of a very beautiful woman, exquisite in face, elegant in figure, luxuriously gowned. The journal she was holding in her hand was one devoted to feminine interests, and this was an interview with a lady very highly placed in Society. Some impulse made Regina turn to the beginning of the article and read it. "Devoted mother, idolized wife, adored _châtelaine_, the lady bountiful of her village, her highest aim is gratified in being her husband's countess." There was a portrait of the husband, who, in Regina's eyes, was not to be named in the same twelvemonth with the noble Alfred sleeping on the other side of the room. There were pictures of the children, of her ladyship's boudoir, of her village school and her cottage hospital. "The world has but little attraction for the beautiful subject of our sketch," the article ended; "she is seen occasionally at Court and at great functions, as a part of her duties, but that is all. Her heart is in her beautiful country home with her husband and her children, and there she shares the joys and sorrows of all who are brought in touch with the great historic name which she bears."