his white shoes; but she watched the easy graceful attitudes 0/
him with interest as he cast himself down on the sand, leaning on
his elbow, by a group of fair women.
" Can you tell me who that gentleman is ? " she asked of her
mother's head-maid, the inimitable Adrienne.
Adrienne looked and smiled.
" Oh ! that is M. de Correze."
" Correze! " Vere's eyes opened in a blaze of eager wonder,
and the colour rose in her pale cheeks. " Correze! Are you sure ? "
" But yes : I am quite sure," laughed Adrienne. " Does made¬
moiselle feel emotion at the sight of him? She is only like all
others of her sex. Ah ! le heau Correze I "
" I have never heard him sing," said Vere, very low, as if she
spoke of some religious thing; "but I would give anything,
anything, to do so. And the music he composes himself is
beautiful. There is one ' Messe de Minuit------'"
" Mademoiselle will hear him often enough when she is once
in the world," said Adrienne, good-naturedly. "Ah! when she
shall see him in ' Faust' that will be an era in her life. But it
is not his singing that makes the great ladies rave of him; it is
his charm. Oh, quel philtre d'amour!"
And Adrienne quite sighed with despair, and then laughed.
Vere coloured a little; Keziah did not discourse about men
"Measure me for my clothes; I am tired," she said with a
childish coldness and dignity, turning away from the window.
" I am entirely at mademoiselle's service," said Adrienne with
answering dignity. " Whoever has had the honour to clothe made¬
moiselle has been strangely neglectful of her highest interests."
" My clothes my highest interest! I never think about them! "
" That is very sad. They are really barbaric. If mademoiselle
could behold herself------"
" They are useful," said Vere coldly; " that is all that is
Adrienne was respectfully silent, but she shuddered as if she
had heard a blasphemy. She could not comprehend how the young
barbarian could have been brought up by a duchess, Adrienne
had never been to Bulmer, and had never seen Her Grace of Mull,
with her silver spectacles, her leather boots, her tweed clothes, her
farm-ledgers, her studbooks, and her ever-open Bible.
" Measure me quickly," said Vere. She had lowered the green
jalousies, and would not look out any more. Yet she felt happier.
She missed dark, old, misty Bulmer with its oak-woods by the
ocean; yet this little gay room, with its pretty cretonne, cream-
coloured, with pale pink roses, its gilded mirrors, its rose china,
its white muslin, was certainly brighter and sunnier, and who
could tell but what her mother would grow to love her some day ?
At nine o'clock Lady Dolly, considering herself a martyr to