My heart beat fast as the woman whom poets might have called the goddess of their dreams, but whom I was now disposed to consider as an object of beauty lawfully open to my purchase, entered, clad in simple white, unrelieved by any ornaments save a golden waistbelt of antique workmanship, and a knot of violets nestled among the lace at her bosom. She looked far lovelier than when I had first seen her at the theatre; there was a deeper light in her eyes and a more roseate flush on her cheeks, while her smile as she greeted us was positively dazzling. Something in her presence, her movements, her manner, sent such a tide of passion through me that for a moment my brain whirled in a dizzy maze, and despite the cold calculations I had made in my own mind as to the certainty I had of winning her for my wife, there was a wondrous charm of delicate dignity and unapproachableness about her that caused me for the moment to feel ashamed, and inclined to doubt even the power of wealth to move this exquisite lily of maidenhood from her sequestered peace. Ah, what fools men are! How little do we dream of the canker at the hearts of these women 'lilies' that look so pure and full of grace! "You are late, Sibyl," said her aunt severely. "Am I?" she responded with languid indifference--"So sorry! Papa, are you an extemporized fire-screen?" Lord Elton hastily moved to one side, rendered suddenly conscious of his selfish monopoly of the blaze. "Are you not cold, Miss Chesney?" continued Lady Sibyl, in accents of studied courtesy--"Would you not like to come nearer the fire?" Diana Chesney had become quite subdued, almost timid in fact. "Thank-you!"--she murmured, and her eyes drooped with what might have been called retiring maiden modesty, had not Miss Chesney's qualities soared far beyond that trite description. "We heard some shocking news this morning, Mr Tempest," said Lady Sibyl, looking at Lucio rather than at me--"No doubt you read it in the papers,--an acquaintance of ours, Viscount Lynton, shot himself last night." I could not repress a slight start. Lucio gave me a warning glance, and took it upon himself to reply. "Yes, I read a brief account of the affair--terrible indeed! I also knew him slightly." "Did you? Well, he was engaged to a friend of mine," went on Lady Sibyl--"I myself think she has had a lucky escape, because though he was an agreeable man enough in society, he was a great gambler, and very extravagant, and he would have run through her fortune very quickly. But she cannot be brought to see it in that light,--she is dreadfully upset. She had set her heart on being a Viscountess." "I guess," said Miss Chesney demurely, with a sly sparkle of her eyes--"it's not only Americans who run after titles. Since I've been over here I've known several real nice girls marry downright mean dough-heads just for the sake of being called 'my lady' or 'your grace.' I like a title very well myself--but I also like a man attached to it."