meet one another, and of making her guests, for the time being at least, feel pleased with themselves, and good tempered with every one else. There was no clashing of uncongenial spirits, nor jealous competition—no grandeur—no fuss ; the arrangements were all of the most simple and unpretending description. Yet the little entertainments gave more satisfaction, and sent the guests away more happy and amiable, than if they had just left the most costly feast. Dora wondered at the complete composure Mrs. Townshend evinced in anticipation of having thirty or forty people on her hands to amuse for several hours, as well as to feed, and with only so few servants to make all the preparations, when her own mother, with the large establishment in Chesham Place, was often fidgety and nervous in the prospect of only a dinner party.

"Oh! that is quite different, my dear," replied Mrs. Townshend, when Dora remarked to this effect. "When your father gives dinners, everything is expected to be of the grandest and best of its kind, and your mother is anxious to excel. My friends have no such ideas in coming here

--croquet for the young ones; chat for the elders; plenty of tea and coffee and bread and butter (which I take care shall be good in all ways), ices and fruits, wine, and just a few real substantials-that is the whole of my bill of fare. If not approved, no one need come again; but, I must say, people are most kind, they seldom send me refusals, and, when here, seem as if they were trying to make everything go off well, and to be as lively and happy as possible, on purpose to please me."

CHAPTER XVIII.

THE GARDEN PARTY.

THE guests were received in the drawing-room, from whence, when sufficient had assembled to crowd the apartment, they were conducted down a flight of iron steps from the window on to the lawn below, which soon could boast of a goodly array of company, the bright costumes of the ladies rendering the scene both lively and picturesque. There was also a very fair sprinkling of gentlemen, some certainly rather of the hobbledehoy, or, as we should now denominate it, Young England, genus, and of course several curates-for croquet and curates are almost synonymous; and by three o'clock there was quite a sufficiency of players for the match to begin. But Mrs. Townshend seemed still

waiting for some further arrivals before the sides, etc., were arranged; so her visitors strolled about a little longer, chatting blithely and contentedly, till their hostess descended the steps with Captain Selby and Mr. Arnott, who seemed to have arrived together.

Mr. Arnott's eyes at once sought out and found the group amongst which stood Dora Freeling.

"So shows a snowy dove, trooping with crows,

As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows,"

might perhaps have been his opinion as he crossed the grass to join her, could he have been guilty of making such an invidious comparison; but for the sake of all the other pretty, nicely-dressed young ladies assembled there, it is fortunate tastes differ widely as to beauty.

It was at all events not the tall, fair, brilliant belle that had attracted Captain Selby to the garden party-caused him to put off his return to town, and spend a long, dull morning, either sauntering about alone in Richmond Park with his cigar, or lounging in an arm chair in one of the sitting-rooms of the Star

and Garter. Not the grand new hotel, but the dear old dingy Star, within whose walls such festive gatherings have been held, and the tones of merry voices-now hushed for ever-have echoed blithely; the spot of many histories, memories and associations-the resort of such diversities of ranks and characters, and once the scene of constant arrivals, departures, and active business. All silent now, nought left but patches of its mere outward crust-an empty shell-gone! in a brief hour vanished, leaving not a trace of what it once had been. No; Captain Selby came entirely in the hope of again beholding the small face, the large iris eyes he had seen the day before at St. Andrew's Church. He had soon accounted for the fact of having met Lisette there, for he remembered "that fellow" Rivers had an old aunt, or something of the sort, living in the neighbourhood. No doubt Miss Audrey was staying with her. He rather wondered what had become of Riverswhy he was not of the party, for he had recognised Miss Freeling, but he was too happy