Time, that deals so gallantly with these blonde beauties, had just thinned the fair hair at the parting, and planted dainty crow's-feet about the patrician mouth, but left no thread of silver under the pretty Parisian lace cap.
Mildred Kingsland, opposite her mother, scarcely bore her thirty years so gracefully.

She had had her little romance, and it had been incontinently nipped in the bud by imperious mamma, and she had dutifully yielded, with the pain sharp in her heart all the same.

But he was poor, and Mildred was weak, and so Lady Kingsland's only daughter glided uncomplainingly into old-maidenhood.
My lady glanced over her shoulder, and greeted her son with a bright, loving smile.

He was her darling and her pride--her earthly idol--the last of the Kingslands.
"Good-morning, Everard! I thought you would have done Mildred and myself the honor of breakfasting with us.

Perhaps it is not too late yet.