[Illustration: H. French, del.) (T. Symmons, sc. "The old man sat looking
at Mary in silence for some moments."--Page 171.]




CHAPTER I.

PENELOPE.


People dined earlier forty years ago than they do now. Even that salt of
the earth, the elect of society, represented by that little great world
which lies between the narrow circle bounded by Bryanstone Square on the
north and by Birdcage Walk on the south, did not consider seven o'clock
too early an hour for a dinner party which was to be followed by routs,
drums, concerts, conversazione, as the case might be. It was seven
o'clock on a lovely June evening, and the Park was already deserted, and
carriages were rolling swiftly along all the Westend squares, carrying
rank, fashion, wealth, and beauty, political influence, and intellectual
power, to the particular circle in which each was destined to illumine
upon that particular evening.

Stateliest among London squares, Grosvenor--in some wise a wonder to the
universe as newly lighted with gas--grave Grosvenor, with its heavy old
Georgian houses and pompous porticoes, sparkled and shone, not alone
with the novel splendour of gas, but with the light of many wax candles,
clustering flower-like in silver branches and girandoles, multiplying
their flame in numerous mirrors; and of all the houses in that stately
square none had a more imposing aspect than Lord Denyer's dark red brick