"I remember him a little boy," said the Duchess.

"His mother was a dear friend of mine; you know she was one of my bridesmaids." "And you have never seen him since, mamma ?" asked the oldest married daughter, who did not look a day older than her mother.
"Never; he was an orphan shortly after.

I have often reproached myself, but it is so difficult to see boys." This simple yet first-class conversation existed in the morning-room of Plusham, where the mistress of the palatial mansion sat involved in the sacred privacy of a circle of her married daughters.

One dexterously applied golden knitting-needles to the fabrication of a purse of floss silk of the rarest texture, which none who knew the almost fabulous wealth of the Duke would believe was ever destined to hold in its silken meshes a less sum than L1,000,000; another adorned a slipper exclusively with seed pearls; a third emblazoned a page with rare pigments and the finest quality of gold leaf.

Beautiful forms leaned over frames glowing with embroidery, and beautiful frames leaned over forms inlaid with mother-of-pearl.