magnificence of earrings) hung two long clear drops red as fire and suffused with a purple tint that showed them to be the true oriental ruby. Bright, delicate links of gold circled her neck again and again; and a cross of gems lay on her breast, the centre stone of which was a locket enclosing a ringlet of dark brown hair. With that little soft curl she would not have parted for a kingdom. 9 The name of Rivaulx was probably obtained from Rivaulx Abbey (now in ruins), founded in 1131 for the Cistercians. It is in the N. Riding of Yorkshire, in Rye Dale, at the foot of the Hambleton Hills.—C. W. H. Warner’s eyes were fixed with interest on Miss Laury as she stood over him, a model of beautiful vigour and glowing health, a kind of military erectness in her form so elegantly built, and in the manner in which her neck sprung from her bust and was placed with graceful uprightness on her falling shoulders. Her waist too falling in behind, and her fine slender foot supporting her in a regulated position, plainly indicated familiarity from her childhood with the sergeants’ drill. All the afternoon she had been entertaining: her exalted guests,—the two in the porch were no other than Lord Hartford and Enara,[10] and conversing with them frankly and cheerfully, but with a total absence of levity, a dash of seriousness, an habitual intentness of purpose that had more than once attracted to her the admiring glance of the Home Secretary. These and Lord Arundel were the only friends she had in the world. Female acquaintance she never sought, nor if she had sought would she have found them. And so sagacious, clever, and earnest was she in all she said and did that the haughty aristocrats did not hesitate to communicate with her often on matters of first-rate importance. Mr. Warner was now talking to her about himself. 10 General Henri Fernando de Euara, known in the army as ‘The Tiger.’—C. W. H. ‘My dear madam,’ he was saying in his imperious but still dulcet tone, ‘it is unreasonable that you should remain thus exposed to danger. I am your friend; yes, madam, your true friend. Why do you not hear me and attend to my representations of the case? Angria is an unsafe place for you; you ought to leave it.’ The lady shook her head: ‘Never till my master compels me; his land is my land.’ ‘But—but, Miss Laury, you know that our army has no warrant from the Almighty of conquest. This invasion may be successful, at least for a time, and then what becomes of you? When the duke’s nation is wrestling with destruction, his glory sunk in deep waters, and himself diving desperately to recover it, can he waste a thought or a moment on a woman? You will be at the tender mercies of Quashia,[11] and of Sheik Medina,—I mean of the detestable renegade Gordon,—before you are aware.’ 11 Quashia Quamina Kashna, an African chief.—C. W. H.