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woman and the grave young clergyman went
on, and Langthwaite stood aghast.

Madame Floriani thought she must do
something for the place; so, after every one
had called, she began to give parties. Everyone
went to the first out of curiosity. Even
Mr. Bentley who disapproved of her so much
that he called nearly every day at Whitefield
to try and convert hereven he went.
Though in general he was never seen at
any evening party, where the object was not
to sing hymns and hear a chapter
expounded. But he made an exception. Madame
Floriani had arranged her rooms very prettily.
She had brought in all the flowers from the
greenhouse, and placed them about the hall
and drawing-room. She had wreathed the
chandeliers with evergreens mixed in with
flowers; while large baskets of flowers,
evergreens, and moss, were placed on pedestals
all about, and brilliantly lighted. The rooms
were a flood of light, all excepting the little
room off the drawing-room, which old Jacob
White had called the study, and which
Madame Rosa said was her boudoir; and
this was dark. One candelabrum, of two
wax-lights only, placed on a beautiful little
buhl table, reflected by two large mirrors set
in deep gold frames of grapes and vine leaves,
and falling on a marble statue of Ariadne,
set within a draperied recessthis was all the
light which Madame Floriani allowed in her
boudoir. Many objects of art were about;
there were models of the Coliseum and the
Tower of Pisa, of the Lion in the Rock of
Lucerne, of the Parthenon at Athens, and
there were busts of famous menDante, and
Petrarch, and Tassoand pictures; a
Magdalen by Giorgione, a Venus by Correggio,
and views of Italy and Greece; and there
was a carved book-case full of splendidly
bound books, one was clasped with ivory and
one had precious stones upon the cover;
these, with curtains and draperies of rich
rose-coloured silk, made up the furniture of
Madame Rosa's boudoir. A new style of
room in Langthwaite. They could not
understand it. The soft dim light, the living
beauty on the walls, the wealth, the art,
the management of effect, all perplexed
the worthy mountaineers, and went far to
convict Madame Floriani of some undesirable
characteristics. The Miss Grandvilles,
who led public opinion on matters of taste
and propriety, peered into it curiously, but
stepped back again immediately, as if it had
been a sorcerer's cave; and by way of being
facetiously condemnatory, spoke to Madame
Floriani of the "great white woman in the
corner" as something they did not understand,
nor quite approve of.

The widow looked at them with the
surprised open-eyed look that had become
familiar to her since she came to
Langthwaite, and then with her silvery good-
humoured laugh cried out, "Why, my dear
mademoiselle, that is Ariadne!"

"I wonder how you can like those horrible
Greek stories!" said the eldest Miss Grandville
severely. "We who know so much
better things, to encourage those dreadful
superstitions and idolatries in any wayit is

"But, my dear demoiselle, you don't think
that I believe in Ariadne as the Greeks did!"
said Madame Rosa. "It's the art, not the
goddess one loves!"

"Art!" cried Miss Grandville, disdainfully,
"art! What is art, I should like to
know, but the worship of the creature. Art
is more nearly successful, Madame Floriani,
than I am afraid you think it is?"

"Ah, mademoiselle! pity me, spare me!
I have been brought up among the great
things of art, and opened my eyes on the
ColiseumI have lived where Michael Angelo
workedI have drank in love of art with my
first breath. I cannot forget its rich lessons
in this ascetic doctrine of yours. On the
contrary, I find in your beautiful country so
much to love and admire, that I wonder you
are so little gifted with the power of
appreciating and reproducing the beauty He has

This was a long speech for Madame Rosa,
and strangely free from foreign idioms. For
she was excited, and forgot to be careful.

''My dear Madame," said Mrs. Bentley,
solemnly; "you speak of natural religion

"Come! come! we must not discuss
theology at a soirée," she exclaimed, "that
would be a misuse of time indeed. Will you
waltz, Miss Grandville!" And before that
horrified lady could return an answer, the
pretty widow had glided across the room in
her peculiar manner of grace and lightness;
and, going to the piano, dashed
into a maddening waltz. Now, to begin
with, only two young ladies of the
Langthwaite's society could waltz, and these
were the daughters of a retired Captain, who
had the good luck to own relatives in London.
But they were thought bold and light in
Langthwaite (although as good girls as ever
breathed), because they went to the opera and
the theatres when they were in town, and
confessed to the polka, and waltzing. They
were very pretty, lively, and good-natured;
and when Madame Rosa played her waltz,
they both stood up and said, that if others
would dance they would. There was no
response. Some said, "What bold girls those
Miss Winters are!" and others, "Oh! Laura
and Helen Winter will go the whole way
with any woman of the world! We can't
expect anything from them." And one old
maid, who had never had an offer, nor heard
a word of love in her life, bit the end off the
adjective "disgusting," and flounced her
shawlShetlandtightly round her, as she
thanked Heaven, that she had never done
such a thing when she was young! And
then when Rosa turned round on her