physical; and while it may often repulse, it sometimes attracts, and
never fails to be noticed. About the Baroness's mouth were hard
lines, and the expression of her eyes was not kind or tender; yet she
was everywhere conceded to be a universally handsome and attractive
woman. Quiet and tasteful in her dressing, she did not accentuate
the ravages of time by any mistaken frivolities of toilet, as so many
faded coquettes have done, but wisely suited her vestments to her
appearance, as the withering branch clothes itself in russet leaves,
when the fresh sap ceases to course through its veins. New York City
is a vast sepulchre of "past careers," and the adventurous life of
the Baroness was quietly buried there with that of many another
woman. In the mad whirl of life there is small danger that any of
these skeletons will rise to view, unless the woman permits herself
to strive for eminence either socially or in the world of art.

While the Cheneys were known to be wealthy, and the Senator had
achieved political position, there was nothing in their situation to
challenge the jealousy of their associates. They moved in one of the
many circles of cultured and agreeable people, which, despite the
mandate of a M'Allister, formed a varied and delightful society in
the metropolis; they entertained in an unostentatious manner, and
there was nothing in their personality to incite envy or jealousy.
Therefore the career of the Baroness had not been unearthed. That
the widow of Judge Lawrence, the stepmother of Mrs Cheney, was known
as "The Baroness" caused some questions, to be sure, but the simple
answer that she had been the widow of a French baron in early life
served to allay curiosity, while it rendered the lady herself an
object of greater interest to the majority of people.

Mrs Stuart, the rector's mother, was one of those who were most