beggared, or put to death. Pale faces were
getting plentiful in the fields and on the roads,
and tears by the firesides.

There was a fine new approach to the castle,
through great gates, round a sward, near a
deer park. Lady Helen's carriage horses had
room to prance in the avenue. But there was
another way of coming upon the castle, by a
wilder bit of glen than had been passed. In
ancient times there had been a moat, and a part
of it yet remained, in which lilies multiplied
and sedges mustered, while wild weeds and
flowers dipped and dabbled in its margin. This
had been the former entrance to the castle, and
the old drawbridge still arched its brown back
over the water, throwing a solemn black shadow
amidst the whiteness of the lilies. Crossing
this old bridge one came upon the most ancient
portion of the castle, now worn into disuse, with
a little black door, no bigger than a postern
gate, set low in the wall, studded with large
iron nails. It had once been the main entrance,
but trees were growing about it now. Farther
on, at either side of the bridge, this remnant of
a moat wandered away into dryness; and in its
bed here and there long ferns had struck their
roots, rich ribbon-grass had straggled up, bringing
with it scarlet poppies, the creamy meadow
sweet, and the crimson tassels of the lusmore
blossoms.

Lady Helen Munro, Miss Janet Golden, a
King Charles spaniel, and a white French poodle,
were all in the drawing-room when Mrs. Hazeldean
arrived. Lady Helen had just issued from
her dressing-room, Miss Golden had just
returned from her morning ride. Lady Helen,
in white, with pink ribbons, was extended on a
couch, showering kisses upon one dog. Miss
Janet in her riding-habit was teasing the other
with her whip.

"Ah, dear Margaret, how are you?" said
Lady Helen, languidly holding up her cheek,
which she expected should come in contact
with Mrs. Hazeldean's bright lips.

"How do you do, Mrs. Hazeldean?" said
Miss Golden, contriving to hold out her jewelled
hand between the pauses of her laughter over
the dog.

"Dear Margaret, how you trot about!" said
Lady Helen. "You are as nimble and as fresh
as a girl. And I—see how languid and good-
for-nothing I am. It is all in the constitution
of one's family."

"Doggie, doggie, doggie! why don't you
laugh?" said Miss Golden, poking the spaniel
with her whip. But this must only have been
her sport. She could not have meant him to
laugh at Lady Helen.

Lady Helen was fifty-five years of ago, and
Mrs. Hazeldean was forty. Lady Helen always
spoke as though Mrs. Hazeldean were the
elder; but they were sisters-in-law, which at
least placed them quite on an equality. Mrs.
Hazeldean's silvered braids could surely never
look so juvenile as Lady Helen's jetty ringlets.
True, Lady Helen's long handsome face was
thin and full of lines, but then that was to be
accounted for by her delicacy of constitution.
Dear Margaret's soft, bright cheeks were the
result of her perfect health. Besides, Lady
Helen was the daughter of an earl, and blue
blood is pale and cool. Mrs. Hazeldean was
only the daughter of a baronet, and had been
pleased to marry a doctor of medicine. And
dear Margaret was well known to be a little
common in her tastes, which was, no doubt, the
reason why her lips remained so red, and her
eyes kept so undignified a brightness. But
Lady Helen had been a beauty of an
aristocratic type.

"I hope you have not brought a bundle of
horrors with you, Margaret," said Lady Helen.
"I don't want to hear anything about the state
of the country."

In truth, Mrs. Hazeldean so seldom walked
up to the castle, merely for the sake of paying
a morning call, that it was no wonder she
should be suspected of having a further motive
in coming. She did not hesitate now in unfolding
her business.

"Well, I must say it was very thoughtful
of Mary to attend to my commission so
quickly," said Lady Helen, with more spirit
in her manner than she had yet shown. "But
why did she not write to me, I wonder? Come
over here, Janet, my dear, and let us have a
pleasant talk about our new dressmaker."

Miss Janet came over reluctantly, swinging
her whip. She was a sumptuous-looking little
person, with a tight plump figure and a jewel
in each ear as large as a half-crown piece. She
had roguish dark eyes and a graceful
self-sufficient-looking little nose. What with her pretty
white hands, and her fair smooth cheeks, and her
glossy dark curls and glancing white teeth, she
would certainly have been charming all over,
but for a sarcastic little twist which came and
went about her mouth. Yet some people thought
that this last gave a peculiar piquancy to her
countenance.

"Can she make everything?" Lady Helen
went on, eagerly. "Ball dresses and dinner
dresses? morning robes and spensers? Can
she copy the Paris fashions from a picture?"

"I have heard," said Mrs. Hazeldean, "that
she was chosen by her mistress to compose a
court dress for a duchess; so I think you may
safely trust yourself to dine in a gown of her
making at Glenluce."

"Then why does she come here?" asked
Lady Helen, all alive. "Oh, we shall surely
never be lucky enough to get her amongst us!
She will be certain to stay in London and make
her fortune. It would be cruel to ask her to
bury her genius alive."

"Not cruel, if she wishes it," said Mrs. Hazeldean,
judiciously repressing a smile. "There
is one reason for her wishing it, which I am
charged to explain. This girl is not an ordinary
dressmaker, who would drop her h's and
make friends with the housemaids. She is
well born, well bred, and educated; she is
young, and an orphan; she would like a quiet
home with people who would be kind to her.