kept as the avenues in a gentleman's park. It was a lonely place enough,
even in all its rustic beauty, for so bright a creature as the late Miss
Lucy Graham, but the generous baronet had transformed the interior of
the gray old mansion into a little palace for his young wife, and Lady
Audley seemed as happy as a child surrounded by new and costly toys.

In her better fortunes, as in her old days of dependence, wherever she
went she seemed to take sunshine and gladness with her. In spite of Miss
Alicia's undisguised contempt for her step-mother's childishness and
frivolity, Lucy was better loved and more admired than the baronet's
daughter. That very childishness had a charm which few could resist. The
innocence and candor of an infant beamed in Lady Audley's fair face, and
shone out of her large and liquid blue eyes. The rosy lips, the delicate
nose, the profusion of fair ringlets, all contributed to preserve to her
beauty the character of extreme youth and freshness. She owned to twenty
years of age, but it was hard to believe her more than seventeen. Her
fragile figure, which she loved to dress in heavy velvets, and stiff,
rustling silks, till she looked like a child tricked out for a
masquerade, was as girlish as if she had just left the nursery. All her
amusements were childish. She hated reading, or study of any kind, and
loved society. Rather than be alone, she would admit Phoebe Marks into
her confidence, and loll on one of the sofas in her luxurious
dressing-room, discussing a new costume for some coming dinner-party; or
sit chattering to the girl with her jewel-box beside her, upon the satin
cushions, and Sir Michael's presents spread out in her lap, while she
counted and admired her treasures.

She had appeared at several public balls at Chelmsford and Colchester,
and was immediately established as the belle of the county. Pleased with
her high position and her handsome house; with every caprice gratified,