you remember the scandal about him
and the Queen of Castile, but that was the Prince
Donnerblitzen, by the bye; well, he was at
Doon likewise, and in fact there was almost
everybody there worth knowing. Only, such
figures as those unhappy foreigners did make
of themselves when they went out cover-
shooting! The Prince shot an exceedingly
ugly owl in mistake for a hen pheasant, one
day: with those immense silk nets over their
game-bags, it looked, as Lionel said, a good
deal more like fishing than shooting,— I mean
Mr. Lionel de Courcy, Sir Walter's eldest son.
He was the life and soul of the party, and
the best waltzer, to my mind, that ever I
danced with. Some people object, immensely,
to the smell of tobacco, but really it is so
general, that there must be something to be
said on the other side of the question; and
then, of course, he always smoked the very
best. How he could ever have got himself
engaged (indeed some do say that it isn't an
engagement,but only that he wants to make it
appear so) to that perky, little, supercilious,
dowdy-looking (but there, I dare say she's a
friend of yours, and I know nothing
absolutely against her) Miss Emmeline Cecil,
with her hundred thousand pounds, or
something very nearly as dreadful of that sort.
Well, with such a numerous party in the
house, you may well imagine that the days
passed pleasantly enough, and the evenings—
when the men had done with their shooting
stories, and there was dancing in the great hall,
and a little champagne supper always afterwards
—were certainly especially delightful.
Positively, the house was so full, that, huge as
it was, and dull and mysterious, and with the
reputation of course of being haunted, I never
once so much as dreamt of being afraid at
night: to be sure, I slept with Eleanor Howard,
who is as bold as a lion, and fears nothing in
the world or out of it, with the exception of
a black beetle, which, as you must have
heard, has been the failing of her family ever
since the Conquest, and one which they are
excessively proud of— and we two used to sit
up until the small hours with the Maitland
girls, who occupied the next room. We had
just parted from them at about two o'clock
on a certain morning, and were about to
open our own door, when who should we see
coming out of Sir Walter's own room, at the
end of the corridor, but a real, live burglar.
He had a black mask on and a dark lantern,
and he looked terrible beyond description, as
you may believe. We rushed inside, and
turned our key like lightning, so that I was
on the sofa in hysterics, and Eleanor screaming
murder through the keyhole at the pitch
of her voice, within a half-minute; but
though we roused the house by these
methods almost immediately, our burglar
had yet time to get out of sight. Of his
presence there was, luckily for our reputation
as witnesses, no possibility of a doubt,
for the ladder by which he came still leant
against Sir Walter's dressing-room window,
and the marks of the intruder's soppy
footprints— for it was a wet night out of
doors— were plainly visible upon the carpets.
Never shall I forget the scene of confusion
which ensued. Prince Donnerblitzen came
forth from his apartment in a silver-spangled
dressing-gown, with the poker in his hand.
The Count de Milletonneres— who came last,
by the bye, not having, been able, in his valet's
absence, and in the dark, to tie his neckcloth
to his mind— appeared with a drawn couteau
de chasse and in full costume and
something over. He had forgotten to take his
yellow silk night-cap off, and it was not
becoming. Lionel, who, I am sorry to say,
was sitting up in the smoking-room when
the alarm was given, had a cigar in his
mouth.

Lord Senex, poor gentleman, would not have
looked more than twenty years worse than he
did the preceding evening, in spite of his
having omitted to put on his wig; had he not
left his teeth behind him. Nor were the
ladies at all better prepared for general
inspection than the other sex. Eleanor and
myself being, by reason of our late hours, the
only fortunate exceptions. The Maitland
girls, indeed, might have appeared less
dishevelled if they had chosen to do so; but they
were charmed with the opportunity thus
afforded them of letting their back-hair
down, and showing all the world how long it
was, an advantage they did not neglect. As
for our friend Miss Emmeline Cecil, I confess
that her appearance gave me some malicious
pleasure on account of the reason which she
gave us for that profusion of natural curls.
"It will curl," she used to say, "although I
would give anything to wear it plain, like
other people." She was most accurately
attired and perfectly self-possessed (the little
wretch!) and beamed on her preserver, as
she called him, Mr. Lionel, as bewitchingly
as ever, except that she had omitted to
remove her curl-papers. I really felt for her
when she should first look in the glass and
find it out. I confess, however, I could at first
think of nothing but the burglar and of the
murder, that it was more than possible might
yet be done. The gentlemen were dispersed
whooping and hallooing all over the house,
save one who kept watch in Sir Walter's dressing-
room, lest the villain should endeavour to
make his exit by that way. We ladies were
all huddled together on the centre landing
of the great staircase, where there is a
large bay-window, used, they say, a good
deal, for flirting upon ball-nights. I don't
know the place myself, but with its couple of
orange-trees and conversation-chair, and
heavy blue satin curtains upon either side, it
looks, I must say, charming enough from the
outside.

Some of our party there assembled had
doubtless very pleasant memories connected
with this bower; but they were too much