 and was played off against the
provincial Don Juan, who had reached that point with her when youths of his
description make bashful confidences of their successes, and receive delicious
chidings for their naughtiness - rebukes which give immeasurable rebounds. Then
came Mr. Gordon Graine, with his daughter, Miss Jenny Graine, an early friend of
Rose's, and numerous others. For the present, Miss Isabella Current need only be
chronicled among the visitors - a sprightly maid fifty years old, without a
wrinkle to show for it - the Aunt Bel of fifty houses where there were young
women and little boys. Aunt Bel had quick wit and capital anecdotes, and tripped
them out aptly on a sparkling tongue with exquisite instinct for climax and when
to strike for a laugh. No sooner had she entered the hall than she announced the
proximate arrival of the Duke of Belfield at her heels, and it was known that
his Grace was as sure to follow as her little dog, who was far better paid for
his devotion.
    The dinners at Beckley Court had hitherto been rather languid to those who
were not intriguing or mixing young love with the repast. Miss Current was an
admirable neutral, sent, as the Countess fervently believed, by Providence. Till
now the Countess had drawn upon her own resources to amuse the company, and she
had been obliged to restrain herself from doing it with that unctuous feeling
for rank which warmed her Portuguese sketches in low society and among her
sisters. She retired before Miss Current and formed audience, glad of a relief
to her inventive labour. While Miss Current and her ephemerals lightly skimmed
the surface of human life, the Countess worked in the depths. Vanities,
passions, prejudices beneath the surface, gave her full employment. How
naturally poor Juliana Bonner was moved to mistake Evan's compassion for a
stronger sentiment! The Countess eagerly assisted Providence to shuffle the
company into their proper places. Harry Jocelyn was moodily happy, but good;
greatly improved in the eyes of his grandmama Bonner, who attributed the change
to the Countess, and partly forgave her the sinful consent to the conditions of
her love-match with the foreign Count, which his penitent wife had privately
confessed to that strict Churchwoman.
    »Thank Heaven that you have no children,« Mrs. Bonner had said; and the
Countess humbly replied: »It is indeed my remorseful consolation!«
    »Who knows that it is not your punishment?« added Mrs. Bonner; the Countess
weeping.
    She went and attended morning prayers in Mrs. Bonner's apartments, alone
with the old lady. »To make up
