His wife's unassuming beauty, her grace and virtues, attracted many who were solicitous to cultivate her acquaintance.
"How did you manage to secure such a prize, Bereford?
She is the most beautiful woman in the United Kingdom," exclaimed a gentleman to Gerald Bereford, after being introduced to Lady Rosamond at a ball given by the French ambassador, where, without any conscious effort, she had been pronounced the most attractive amidst a bewildering array of princely rank, wealth, dignity, youth and beauty.
None could deny the assertion.

The rich and elegant black velvet robes worn by her ladyship displayed the beautiful transparency and form of her snowy arms and shoulders.

Flashing jewels lent a glow to the lovely face, reflecting their purity and priceless worth.
In the midst of her greatest triumphs Lady Rosamond felt her misery the most unendurable.

Then she experienced the cruel mockeries of the world; _then_ she felt pangs that the glare and display of wealth must cover--that the tribute of homage vainly sought to satisfy.

At those moments a picture of never-fading reality would flit before her mental vision in mocking array--a picture in which her ladyship knelt with expressive and silent gaze at the feet of the stern monitress, Duty, whose defiant scowl denies appeal from the speaking depths of the mournful dark eyes.