brains, or breedin' either. Her mother (the loveliest woman that ever
lived, except Mary) was a connection of mine; that's where she gets her
manners!" etc.

Thus did this noble earl make music for me--sweet and bitter music.

Mary! It is a heavenly name, especially on English lips, and spelled in
the English mode with the adorable _y_! Great men have had a passion for
it--Byron, Shelley, Burns. But none, methinks, a greater passion than I,
nor with such good cause.

And yet there must be a bad Mary now and then, here or there, and even
an ugly one. Indeed, there was once a Bloody Mary who was both! It seems
incredible!

Mary, indeed! Why not Hecuba? For what was I to the Duchess of Towers?

When I was alone again I went to bed, and tried to sleep on my back,
with my arms up, in the hope of a true dream; but sleep would not come,
and I passed a white night, as the French say. I rose early and walked
about the park, and tried to interest my self in the stables till it was
breakfast-time. Nobody was up, and I breakfasted alone with Lady Cray,
who was as kind as she could be. I do not think she could have found me
a very witty companion. And then I went back to the stables to think,
and fell into a doze.

At about twelve I heard the sound of wooden balls, and found a lawn
where some people were playing "croquet." It was quite a new game, and a
few years later became the fashion.