A schoolgirl in Fallow field, the tailor's daughter, had sighed for the bliss of Beckley Court.

Beckley Court was her Elysium ere the ardent feminine brain conceived a loftier summit.

Fallen from that attained eminence, she sighed anew for Beckley Court.

Nor was this mere spiritual longing; it had its material side.

At Beckley Court she could feel her foreign rank.
Moving with our nobility as an equal, she could feel that the short dazzling glitter of her career was not illusory, and had left her something solid; not coin of the realm exactly, but yet gold.