She whispers in his ears a heavy tale,
As if they heard the woful words she told:
She lifts the coffer-lids that close his eyes,
Where lo! two lamps, burnt out, in darkness lies.
* * * * * * *
Two glasses, where herself, herself beheld
A thousand times, and now no more reflect;
Their virtue lost, wherein they late excell'd,
And every beauty robb'd of his effect."—Shakespeare.
"'A southern wind and a cloudy sky proclaim it a hunting morning,'" quotes Miss Chesney, gayly, entering the breakfast-room at nine o'clock next morning, looking, if anything, a degree more bewitching than usual in her hat and habit: in her hand is a little gold-mounted riding-whip, upon her lovable lips a warm, eager smile. "No one down but me!" she says, "at least of the gentler sex. And Sir Guy presiding! what fun! Archie, may I trouble you to get me some breakfast? Sir Guy, some tea, please: I am as hungry as a hawk."