at the end of their service, and the calm and unruffled soldiers who are hurrying on to the fray.

Yes, Lady Margaret Bowman was "receiving," as such of us as had not the good fortune to know her ladyship might learn next day from that faithful and accurate chronicle the Morning Plush, in a list of company that must have read agonisingly to the Parvenu,-those splendid ranks passing before him, a Promised Land into which he durst not enter. This golden river, however, made but "a loop," as it were, at Lady Margaret's house, and after ascending slowly to the high level of the drawing-room, trickled down as slowly and flowed on to other table-lands.

It was surprising all the fine people Lady Margaret got together, and really without difficulty or exertion. A duke, marquises, all the "best" and the right people; Foosha Pasha even, who seldom went anywhere; Baron Brenner and Madame Brenner, and that Christine Brenner of whom Diana had been hearing so much. The curious thing that surprised her not a little, was the slight intimacy that after all appeared to exist between that foreign family and the diplomatist; which seemed a little strange after the rose-coloured picture of Lady Margaret, the exuberant intimacy, that "running in and out fifty times in the day," which seemed to go on always. On the contrary, Diana saw Mr. Canning approach a short little wiry man-dry as one of the queer esculents called "locusts"-who wore glasses, with evident trepidation and obsequiousness, by whom he was received with a polite but distant smile. To that Christine, whose slave he was, or who was reported by Lady Margaret as being his slave-a tall, full-faced, fair-haired, German-looking girl, who indeed scarcely seemed the daughter of the wiry little man-he was even more obsequious, that young lady receiving him with a curt, off-hand manner, being busily engaged with the handsome Colonel Goodfellow, Lord Bunham's brother in the Guards, on the staff, Victoria-crossed, Legion-of-honoured, hung all over with labels and ribbons, as Wally Pepys said, "like a prize-ox at a show."

Diana's spirits always rose on these nights. She was delighted with anything like a procession or a raree-show, with the flitting colours, the dazzling lights, the pleasant voices. If you looked at her across the room, she would smile at you from mere enjoyment. Here was Lord Patmore again beside her, "taking her up and down," whispering his fadaises," that goose Patmore," as various gentlemen rather pettishly described him.

This young nobleman's admiration was indeed getting rather marked, though he could not find any way of showing it. His stock of reserved and delicate compliments failing him very soon, her dress was a happy resource; and with an earnest and marked air he repeated the me praises very often.

The one who said "that goose Patmore" oftenest, was Richard Luwho very scornful to his friends.

"Just look at that donkey," he said; "the way he sticks to that poor girl! She can't get rid of him. I wonder who he got to trim his ears close? It's most unfair to a young creature like that, in her own house-not able to attend to her guests or amuse herself without a public idiot going with her like her shadow. I shut him up at dinner, and you never saw anyone so scared as he was."

We should also have heard other gentlemen speaking of Mr. Lugard. "Ill-conditioned fellow; overbearing; wants taking down a peg. Always bragging about the House and his rubbishy little M.P.-ship. The best of the joke is, they say, there's a petition against him, and that he hasn't a chance; and how will he look then ?"

Such is the world; so everybody "tears" everybody. But the comfort is, that with all this scandal little harm is done; these are the "bills" with which the pleasant credit of society is kept floating, and luckily no one requires them to be taken up.

So that evening finished, and we read the whole list the next morning. It seemed to glitter like a harlequin's suit in the light. Lady Margaret would receive again the following week.

Indeed, Diana's life was now a busy one, for on the following night she was abroad again, and also on almost every evening of the week. She had fallen into the round of what is called pleasure, but which indeed has its fatigues and monotony. A young lady in the season goes through a discipline severer and more useful than would be imagined. That drill and drudgery of fashion quite fills in her time, and causes a strict economy of every moment to get through the work. What with the invitations to give and to answer, the visits to pay and to receive, the rides to take, the drives to make-necessary, indeed, to freshen up the delicate soldier for the long night's work before her-the concerts, the operas, the drums, the balls, the dinners at home, the dinners abroad, the choosing of dresses at Madame Cerise's, the pictures, the hundred and one things to be got through,-this was a very busy time for Diana. Not that she was without assistance; and the business mind of Lady Margaret did much in the way of organisation. But under the process, our Diana's little soul was growing steady, calmer, more self-reliant and independent. She began to know, to feel her responsibilities, and to have that fitting sense of her own importance as a young and pretty heiress, and the duties and bearing which such a character involved.

Thus it was that on the following evening, at eight o'clock, Lady Margaret's great Indiaman of a coach stood at the door, closed on this occasion, and rocking heavily with every motion of the great horses, to take the three away to the routine dinner. Indeed, the party dined at home about twice in the week, and we may be sure that the "auditing" of the invitation accounts-the "keeping the books," as it might be called-was a very serious and troublesome business. Lady Margaret, who had indeed the soul of a general, the promptness of a Wel

lington, settled the thing in a second. As the invitations were opened :

"Lady Pender again! What on earth is the woman at? Third time we have refused them. Nothing but mouldy married barristers all round you."

Or it might be-"Mr. and Mrs. Arthur Malcolm request the honour," &c.

"O, we must go to them-charming things; a little bit of a house, pet, and five hundred a year; but just a dozen of the nicest people you could pick out. Everything in best style. Write, dear, at once."

"But we are engaged that day—”

"To old Sir Richard, one of his foozle parties, an old friend of Bowman's. I'll send to him this evening at the club, and tell him it was a mistake.”

Diana was not at all shocked at this little bit of morality. She believed Lady Margaret knew all about these things so much better than she did; and these things are dwelt on here, perhaps, more minutely than they deserve, with a view of illustrating this young lady's character, and showing the very natural change which was taking place in her nature.

Away rolled the heavy argosy-a good solid casket for the rich and delicate little piece of jewelry within.

It stopped at "The Fanshawes'" (Major-General), people whom Lady Margaret did not care much for, but she had ascertained that young Lord Patmore was to be there. Indeed, she had found that little or nothing could be done for Canning, that gentleman having diplomatic tact enough to see that he was not, as it is called, making way with the young lady. Indeed, Diana herself, when Lady Margaret's hints had at last grown unmistakable, all but told her, with pleasant frankness, that she considered Mr. Canning as her brother or father. So Lady Margaret determined to leave all to that wonderful necromancer -time. In the mean while she found her account in this patronage the young girl; as what elderly lady fond of position and of gaiety, without daughters of her own, does not? A sensible person, not foolish enough to think the homage is directed to herself, she improves the shining hour, takes everything as it comes, and enjoys the various fashionable blessings thrown in her way. Indeed, there seems nothing more pleasant than an office of this sort, much more agreeable than the weary responsibility of the mamma. The mamma is unavoidable, she cannot help herself; but the patroness is the object of innumerable little attentions, a delicate and kindly consideration, of a wrapping-up that is almost tender on the part of the young cavaliers of her train. And while Diana was taken down to the carriage and wrapped in her gipsy cloak by one young spark of position and quality, another was no less kindly enshawling the greater proportions of Lady Margareta business of more difficulty, and taking longer time. A third was

gone to see about the carriage'; and when all was ready, and the great vehicle was moored alongside, then emerged the procession. Lady Margaret, wrapped close, assisted down the steps by two obsequious youths, guiding her steps with "lean on me, Lady Margaret ;" Diana coming behind with a whole cohort about her. It might be raining, but the politeness of these young Adonises was proof against that. Your true gentleman, in the service of the belle dame-when does he care for rain, wind, or even sleet?

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CHAPTER IX.

A ROUND OF GAIETIES.

HERE then was the Fanshawes' house, a modest mansion in a rather shabby street, whence the great carriage came rolling up, and its horses were checked suddenly with a plunge, a banging of steps let down, and the two ladies had passed into the house between a lane of passers-by, Mr. Bowman following as though he were a little ashamed of himself. The company here again was of the usual pattern, but what Lady Margaret called "nice" a Mrs. Childers, who "led," Lady Mary Vivian, and the duke her father, whom she had often wished to know; some "nice" young men, young Lord Patmore, a distinguished colonel of good family, and some more. When the new-comers were settled, and the young lord had "poked and peered" his way over to Diana, and had begun conversation with the remark, "I saw you to-day in Regent-street; I was at the door of my bootmaker's," a gentleman, a good deal in shadow, and who had been talking to another gentleman, stooped down and said gravely:

"How do you do, Miss Gay?"

Diana half started from her seat with delight.

"What! O, Robert, I am so glad! Where have you been?"

He answered in the same grave way:

"Here in town, in the old chambers.”

"But you have never come to us, though we have asked you again and again. We thought it so unkind."

"I am really so busy now," he said; "besides, I have given up all that sort of thing."

Now came dinner. The General, an old man with a young wife, knew how to "assort his company;" and though the young Lord Patmore had, by the inflexible law, taken down Mrs. Fanshawe, that lady had discovered in herself an overpowering affection for Diana, who must sit near her; and having brought her and the young lord into conjunction, at once abandoned that nobleman, and devoted herself to a gentleman on the other side, who was another lady's property.

Taking a glance round her, Diana saw that Robert Bligh was beside a young lady whose face was familiar to her, whom she had seen during

the election days walking about Calthorpe. She remembered Miss Bullock. Mrs. Fanshawe had also judiciously cast this pair together. To her, as Diana noticed, Robert was earnestly telling his story. His eyes scarcely ever turned to her. She knew him well enough to be sure that he would not take the trouble of acting, and sometimes when his eyes met hers, she saw that it was with a placid indifference. The well-trained Robert, so practical in all things, had no doubt carried out strictly what he had told her he would do, and had succeeded in so doing. The old fires had gone out for ever. When the lovers in dramas and romances passionately protest that "they have torn her image from their heart" with a demeanour and protestation that seem like insanity, no one knows so well as the image herself that nothing of the kind has been done, and that, on the contrary, the image has been more deeply rooted than ever. It is the indifference quite removed from resentment that brings conviction of the most fatal sort. Diana was deeply pained at this, perhaps from a little pride, to say nothing of other feelings. But at present the noble lord found his account in this change, and to his surprise discovered that his sallies were being received with a zest and devotion really unusual. Compliments even repaid his exertions, and the young lord, who had always a half-suspicion that Diana was laughing at him, now, on that night, came to the resolution that he would no longer delay in bringing mat ters to a crisis.

By and by Bligh began to speak, not for his neighbour, but for the company, and Diana wondered at the new pleasantry and sense which came from his lips. He "led" the conversation; he had got rid of the "old Bligh" indeed, and had turned into a man of the world. Diana was amazed. The retiring manner was all gone. He was of the world, worldly, and could talk fashion and frivolity with an airy grace.

When the dinner was over, and "the gentlemen had come up," he went over to Diana and spoke to her kindly and easily. He was so glad to hear she was quite taking a leading part in the pleasant world. He saw her name in the Morning Plush regularly. He admired the wisdom of Lady Margaret, he said, who he always thought had good sense.

"If we do live in the world at all, why, it is as well to follow the stream. And how is my friend, or enemy, Richard Lugard?”

Diana was greatly piqued at his tone, even hurt. Still, she made an advance, and said again :

"You have never called on us-never have come to see us."

"O, you know I am so busy," said Bligh gravely. "I just get out now and again to a dinner, in this sort of way. It helps one on, too, so much, which is the great aim. But I certainly shall. I suppose I sha'n't meet Lugard, who was never in the best temper towards me, and I fear won't be in a week or two."

"Why ?"

"O, this election petition; they tell me he must go. But it doesn't