Lady Alicia was a tall, handsome, stiff
old lady, who took a gloomy view of life,
and who had a good deal of wit of a dry,
bitter, biting flavour.

Her ladyship's entrance into the room
was closely followed by that of a gentleman.
Captain Sheardown, after having greeted
Lady Alicia, called to him.

"Come here, Hugh. I want to introduce
you to the vicar of Shipley. Mr.
Levincourt, this is my young friend Hugh
Lockwood. You may have heard me speak
of his father."

"Who is the gentleman?" asked Lady
Alicia, half aside, of Mrs. Sheardown, and
looking across the room as she spoke, with
a not unfavourable glance.

"Mr. Hugh Lockwood, Lady Alicia. You
may remember, perhaps, that his father
was a great protégé of the old Admiral
many, many years ago, that is, before I ever
saw my husband."

"Oh, aye, to be sure! I recollect it all
very well now. Robert Lockwood was a
Daneshire man born and bred. He came
of humble folks, small tradespeople in
Shipley Magna, but he had an aspiring
soul, and he got it into his head that he
was born to be a great painter. Admiral
Sheardown had a taste for the arts, and
helped the lad to an education. And that
is his son, eh? Not bad looking!"

Mrs. Sheardown explained in a few
words that Hugh's father had done credit
to his patron's discrimination, and had
attained a good position amongst British
artists. Robert Lockwood had died some
years ago. His son was articled pupil to
an architect in London: and having had
occasion to visit Danecester on professional
business, Captain Sheardown had invited
the young man to stay for a few days at
Lowater House.

Presently arrived Dr. Begbie, rector of
Hammick, with his wife and daughter, and
Miss Boyce: a lady who was staying at the
rectory on a visit; and these completed
the number of invited guests.

Betsy Boyce, as her friends and
acquaintances called her, was a simpering,
lively old lady who prided herself on her
thorough knowledge of "society." She
lived in London when she did not happen
to be visiting at some country house.
But her residence in the metropolis was
never protracted; and her address when
there, was not revealed to many persons.
She called cousins with half the names
in the Peerage: and indeed Miss Boyce
found a phrase or two out of that august
volume act as an "open sesame" to
many a comfortable home where bed
and board were at her service for as
long as she chose to remain. She was
herself perfectly good-humoured and humble
minded; and despite her eccentricities
she was liked and esteemed by those
people who knew her best. But she had
taken up the Peerage as a kind of profession,
just as some reverend Mussulman
divine adopts the Koran. She lived by its
aid very comfortably; whereas Miss Elizabeth
Sophia Augusta Boyce, with very few
pounds per annum to call her own, and
without any aristocratic connexions, would
have found it a rather hard task to make
both ends meet. "Besides, my dear," she
would say confidentially to some intimate
friend, "I don't really humbug anybody.
Papa and mamma were both thoroughly
well connected. It never did them any good
that I know of; but you see it is a great
mercy for me. If it were not for my family
and my knowledge of who's who, I might
mope by myself in a dingy lodging from
January to December. And for me, who
am the most sociable creature living, and
who detest solitude, it is really and truly a
blessing and a most providential circumstance
that there are persons who care very
much for that kind of thing."

Miss Boyce, then, was not unduly proud
of her descent, but she had a pet vanity
founded—as are not most of our pet
vanities?—on a much less real and solid
basis of fact; she had somehow lost her
reckoning of time, thought herself still an
attractive-looking woman, and devoutly
believed that mankind was deluded by her
wig.

Captain Sheardown gallantly led out
Lady Alicia Renwick to dinner, and the
rest followed in due order.

To old Mr. Snowe, the banker, was
allotted the honour of conducting Miss
Boyce. Mr. Snowe was a slow-witted,
matter-of-fact man. His manner was
pompous, and the habitual expression of
his heavy face seemed to say, with an air
of puzzled surprise, "God bless my soul!
If I did not know myself to be so very
important a personage, I should suspect you
to be laughing at me."

During the early part of the dinner Mr.
Snowe was too honestly engrossed in eating
and drinking to pay much attention to
his neighbour: but when the later stages of
the repast arrived he found himself
compelled to observe Miss Boyce's lavish coils
of false hair, flowing curls, and colossal