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"Those lovely Spanish eyes," said Lady K----,
"that Titianesque auburn hair!" But it didn't answer. Both the girls
were plain, and they have gone back to their native obscurity spinsters
still. But this is a real thorough-bred one--blood, form, pace, all
there.'
'Who is she?' drawled his friend.
'Lord Maulevrier's sister, Lady Lesbia Haselden. Has money, too, I
believe; rich grandmother; old lady buried alive in Westmoreland; horrid
old miser.'
'I shouldn't mind marrying a miser's granddaughter,' said the other. 'So
nice to know that some wretched old idiot has scraped and hoarded
through a lifetime of deprivation and self-denial, in order that one may
spend his money when he is under the sod.'
Lady Lesbia was accepted everywhere, or almost everywhere, as the beauty
of the season. There were six or seven other girls who aspired to the
same proud position, who were asserted by their own particular friends
to have won it; just as there are generally four or five horses which
claim to be first favourites; but the betting was all in favour of Lady
Lesbia.


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