_MONICA KNOLLYS_ Punctually Lady Knollys arrived.

She was accompanied by her nephew, Captain Oakley.
They arrived a little before dinner; just in time to get to their rooms and dress.

But Mary Quince enlivened my toilet with eloquent descriptions of the youthful Captain whom she had met in the gallery, on his way to his room, with the servant, and told me how he stopped to let her pass, and how 'he smiled so 'ansom.' I was very young then, you know, and more childish even than my years; but this talk of Mary Quince's interested me, I must confess, considerably.

I was painting all sort of portraits of this heroic soldier, while affecting, I am afraid, a hypocritical indifference to her narration, and I know I was very nervous and painstaking about my toilet that evening.

When I went down to the drawing-room, Lady Knollys was there, talking volubly to my father as I entered--a woman not really old, but such as very young people fancy aged--energetic, bright, saucy, dressed handsomely in purple satin, with a good deal of lace, and a rich point--I know not how to call it--not a cap, a sort of head-dress--light and simple, but grand withal, over her greyish, silken hair.
Rather tall, by no means stout, on the whole a good firm figure, with something kindly in her look.