Muslin

disturbed state of the country. Olive asked if Mr. Parnell was good-looking. A railway-bridge was passed

ad been built by the late Mr. Barton out of a farmhouse, but the present man, having travelled in Italy and been att

e window; and the two girls watched their mother, a pretty

e it drawn back over her ears and slightly puffed on either side in accordance with the fashion that had come in with the Empress Eugenie. Even in a photograph she was like a last-century beauty sketched by Romney in pastel-brown, languid, almond-shaped eyes, a thin figure a

and I'm afraid the saffron buns are cold. Milord brought us over such a l

ou I am not in the lea

eplied Lord Dungory, who had just returned from the pleasur

ever-toujours galant; always thi

longer wore a silk hat in the country. A high silk hat in Galway would have called attention to his age, so the difficulty of costume was ingeniously compromised by a tall felt, a cross between a pot and a chimney-po

their authenticity were sometimes spoken of after a set dinner-party. His speech was urbane, and, on all questions of taste, Lord Dungory's opinion was eagerly sought for. He gave a tone to the ideas put forward in the surrounding country houses, and it was through him that Mr. Barton held the title of a genius born out of due time. If Arthur, he said, had lived two centuries ago, when the gift of imagination was considered indispensable in the artist, he would have achieved high distinction. His subjects-The Bridal of Triermain and Julius C?sar overturning the Altars of the Druids-would have been envied,

rew together, a favourite topic of conversation in the county of Galway. It had been remarked that the Bartons never dined at Dungory Castle except

nd civil words exchanged with Mrs. Barton. Besides, as they grew old and ugly, the Ladies Cullen had developed an inordinate passion for the conversion of souls. They had started a school of their own in opposition to the National school, which was unde

could estimate to a fr

ish by the bows these la

r carriages cros

ally for them. 'Take a bottom piece, Olive, and Alice, you really must. . . Well, if you won't eat, tell Milord about your play of King Cophetua and the beggar-ma

e odd in the subject? We

rd rejoiced in the interlude, for it gave him opportunity to meditate. Anna (Mrs. Barton) seemed to him more charming and attractive than he had ever seen her, as she sat in the quiet shadow of the verandah: beyond the

ou have finished your tea, come,

antment. He remembered that it had lasted for nearly twenty years, and it was as potent as ever. In what did it consist, he asked himself. He sometimes thought her laughter too abundant, sometimes it verged on merriment. He did

ser to Arthur's, and, with a certain parade of i

sign approached your picture of Julius C?

to answer the question directly. 'I saw some lovely landscapes, and there were some babies'

ing dragged into art; but if you only condescend to take a

I was in London I saw such a lovely woman-one of the most exquisite creatures possible to imagine

t, and from his face it might be judged he was sa

, with accompaniments written for the guitar. You shall hear s

hysterically, and she begged him to translate (he had just whispered to her mother, 'L'amour est la conscience du plaisir donné et re?u, la certitude de donner et de recevoir'); and he would have complied with her request, but Mrs. Barton forbade him. Alice, who had understood, found herself obliged to

ec des fleurs,' said Mrs. Barton, as a sailor fr

and ardently on his daughter, and then sketched with his thumb-nail

ore time over your wine. This is our first evening together; co

f plaintively. Then, when he thought he had been sufficiently admired, he sang A che la morte, Il Balen, and several other Italian airs, in which frequent allusion was made to the inconstancy of woman's and the truth of man's affection. At every pause in the m

who could put her up to all the latest fashions as well as Milord? The old gentleman rep

thur, who, on the highest point of the sofa, hummed

a waltz,' said Mrs

ar, play us a wal

ay a note without my music, and it is

moving, as if she were on wheels, towards her daughter, she whis

ole attention fixed on the page before her, but when she raised her eyes the picture she saw engraved itself on her mind. It was a long time before she could forget Olive's blond, cameo-like profile seen leaning over the old beau's fat shoulder. Mrs. Barton laughed and laughed again, declaring the while that it was la grace et la beauté réunies. Mr. Barton shouted and twanged in measure, the excitement gaining on him until he rushed at his wife, and, seizing her round the waist, whirled her and whirle

icemen you ought to be givin' me, not s

shall do if the Government don't put down the Land League; we shall all b

ill be no rents collect

ened one of the str

d tell me, Lord Dungory, will the Government ref

, we shall want more mo

iv

ot into his carriage amid pearly peals of laughter from Mrs. Barton, intermingled