We will smile reservedly as we mark Mr.Evan Harrington step into the midst of the fair society of the drawing-room.

Rose is at the piano.

Near her reclines the Countess de Saldar, fanning the languors from her cheeks, with a word for the diplomatist on one side, a whisper for Sir John Loring on the other, and a very quiet pair of eyes for everybody.

Providence, she is sure, is keeping watch to shield her sensitive cuticle; and she is besides exquisitely happy, albeit outwardly composed: for, in the room sits his Grace the Duke of Belfield, newly arrived.

He is talking to her sister, Mrs.Strike, masked by Miss Current.