Those of Lady Lindore presented a picture not less striking, could her thoughtless successor have profited by the lesson they offered.  Here was all that the most capricious fancy, the most boundless extravagance, the most refined luxury, could wish for or suggest.  The bedchamber, dressing-room, and boudoir were each fitted up in a style that seemed rather suited for the pleasures of an Eastern sultana or Grecian courtesan than for the domestic comfort of a British matron.

“I wonder how Lady Lindore could find in her heart to leave this delicious boudoir,” observed Lady Juliana to the old housekeeper.

“I rather wonder, my Lady, how she could find in her heart to leave these pretty babies,” returned the good woman, as a little boy came running into the room, calling, “Mamma, mamma!” Lady Juliana had nothing to say to children beyond a “How d’ye do, love?” and the child, after regarding her for a moment, with a look of disappointment, ran away back to his nursery.

When Lady Juliana had fairly settled herself in her new apartments, and the tumult of delight began to subside, it occurred to her that something must be done for poor Harry, whom she had left in the hands of a brother officer, in a state little short of distraction.  She accordingly went in search of her brother, to request his advice and assistance, and found him, it being nearly dark, preparing to set out on his morning’s ride.  Upon hearing the situation of his brother-in-law he declared himself ready to assist Mr. Douglas as far as he was able; but he had just learned from his people of business that his own affairs were somewhat involved.  The late Earl had expended enormous sums on political purposes; Lady Lindore had run through a prodigious deal of money, he believed; and he himself had some debts, amounting, he was told, to seventy thousand pounds.  Lady Juliana was all aghast at this information, which was delivered with the most perfect nonchalance by the Earl, while he amused himself with his Newfoundland dog.  Unable to conceal her disappointment at these effects of her brother’s “liberality and generosity,” Lady Juliana burst into tears.

The Earl’s sensibility was akin to his generosity; he gave money (or rather allowed it to be taken) freely when he had it, from indolence and easiness of temper; he hated the sight of distress in any individual, because it occasioned trouble, and was, in short, a bore. He therefore made haste to relieve his sister’s alarm by assuring her that these were mere trifles; that, as for Douglas’s affairs, he would order his agent to arrange everything in his name; hoped to have the pleasure of seeing him at dinner; recommended to his sister to have some pheasant pies for luncheon; and, calling Carlo, set out upon his ride.

However much Lady Juliana had felt mortified and disappointed at learning the state of her brother’s finances, she began, by degrees, to extract the greatest consolation from the comparative insignificance of her own debts to those of the Earl; and accordingly, in high spirits at this newly discovered and judicious source of comfort, she despatched the following note to her husband:—­