to the general observation a cruel aquiline nose, an obstinate straight
chin, magnificent dark hair and eyes, a serene splendor of fawn-colored
apparel, and a lazy grace of movement which was attractive at
first sight, but inexpressibly monotonous and wearisome on a longer
acquaintance. This was Lady Lundie the Second, now the widow (after four
months only of married life) of Sir Thomas Lundie, deceased. In other
words, the step-mother of Blanche, and the enviable person who had taken
the house and lands of Windygates.

"My dear," said Lady Lundie, "words have their meanings--even on a young
lady's lips. Do you call Croquet, 'business?'"

"You don't call it pleasure, surely?" said a gravely ironical voice in
the back-ground of the summer-house.

The ranks of the visitors parted before the last speaker, and disclosed
to view, in the midst of that modern assembly, a gentleman of the bygone
time.

The manner of this gentleman was distinguished by a pliant grace and
courtesy unknown to the present generation. The attire of this gentleman
was composed of a many-folded white cravat, a close-buttoned blue
dress-coat, and nankeen trousers with gaiters to match, ridiculous
to the present generation. The talk of this gentleman ran in an
easy flow--revealing an independent habit of mind, and exhibiting a
carefully-polished capacity for satirical retort--dreaded and disliked
by the present generation. Personally, he was little and wiry and
slim--with a bright white head, and sparkling black eyes, and a wry
twist of humor curling sharply at the corners of his lips. At his lower
extremities, he exhibited the deformity which is popularly known as "a