and poured herself out a second cup of tea.

"Nothing interesting this morning for me," she said. "Any news of your
mother, Stella?"

The young lady handed an open letter to her hostess, with a faint smile.
"See for yourself, Adelaide," she answered, with the tender sweetness of
tone which made her voice irresistibly charming--"and tell me if there
were ever two women so utterly unlike each other as my mother and
myself."

Lady Loring ran through the letter, as she had run through her own
correspondence. "Never, dearest Stella, have I enjoyed myself as I do in
this delightful country house--twenty-seven at dinner every day, without
including the neighbors--a little carpet dance every evening--we play
billiards, and go into the smoking room--the hounds meet three times
a week--all sorts of celebrities among the company, famous beauties
included--such dresses! such conversation!--and serious duties, my
dear, not neglected--high church and choral service in the town on
Sundays--recitations in the evening from Paradise Lost, by an amateur
elocutionist--oh, you foolish, headstrong child! why did you make
excuses and stay in London, when you might have accompanied me to this
earthly Paradise?--are you really ill?--my love to Lady Loring--and of
course, if you _are_ ill, you must have medical advice--they ask after
you so kindly here--the first dinner bell is ringing, before I have half
done my letter--what _am_ I to wear?--why is my daughter not here to
advise me," etc., etc., etc.

"There is time to change your mind and advise your mother," Lady Loring
remarked with grave irony as she returned the letter.