JOHN PHILIP HYND, (late Major, 110th Regiment).

THE STORY.

BOOK THE FIRST.

CHAPTER I.

THE CONFIDENCES.

IN an upper room of one of the palatial houses which are situated on the north side of Hyde Park, two ladies sat at breakfast, and gossiped over their tea.

The elder of the two was Lady Loring—­still in the prime of life; possessed of the golden hair and the clear blue eyes, the delicately-florid complexion, and the freely developed figure, which are among the favorite attractions popularly associated with the beauty of Englishwomen.  Her younger companion was the unknown lady admired by Major Hynd on the sea passage from France to England.  With hair and eyes of the darkest brown; with a pure pallor of complexion, only changing to a faint rose tint in moments of agitation; with a tall graceful figure, incompletely developed in substance and strength—­she presented an almost complete contrast to Lady Loring.  Two more opposite types of beauty it would have been hardly possible to place at the same table.

The servant brought in the letters of the morning.  Lady Loring ran through her correspondence rapidly, pushed away the letters in a heap, and poured herself out a second cup of tea.

“Nothing interesting this morning for me,” she said.  “Any news of your mother, Stella?”

The young lady handed an open letter to her hostess, with a faint smile.  “See for yourself, Adelaide,” she answered, with the tender sweetness of tone which made her voice irresistibly charming—­“and tell me if there were ever two women so utterly unlike each other as my mother and myself.”

Lady Loring ran through the letter, as she had run through her own correspondence.  “Never, dearest Stella, have I enjoyed myself as I do in this delightful country house—­twenty-seven at dinner every day, without including the neighbors—­a little carpet dance every evening—­we play billiards, and go into the smoking room—­the hounds meet three times a week—­all sorts of celebrities among the company, famous beauties included—­such dresses! such conversation!—­and serious duties, my dear, not neglected—­high church and choral service in the town on Sundays—­recitations in the evening from Paradise Lost, by an amateur elocutionist—­oh, you foolish, headstrong child! why did you make excuses and stay in London, when you might have accompanied me to this earthly Paradise?—­are you really ill?—­my love to Lady Loring—­and of course, if you are ill, you must have medical advice—­they ask after you so kindly here—­the first dinner bell is ringing, before I have half done my letter—­what am I to wear?—­why is my daughter not here to advise me,” etc., etc., etc.

“There is time to change your mind and advise your mother,” Lady Loring remarked with grave irony as she returned the letter.