Condensed Novels | Page 7

villas, nine shooting-boxes, and seven town houses, he had other estates of which he had not even heard.
Everybody at Plusham played croquet, and none badly. Next to their purity of blood and great wealth, the family were famous for this accomplishment. Yet Lothaw soon tired of the game, and after seriously damaging his aristocratically large foot in an attempt to "tight croquet" the Lady Aniseed's ball, he limped away to join the Duchess.
"I'm going to the hennery," she said.
"Let me go with you, I dearly love fowls--broiled," he added, thoughtfully.
"The Duke gave Lady Montairy some large Cochins the other day," continued the Duchess, changing the subject with delicate tact.
"Lady Montairy, Quite contrairy, How do your cochins grow?"
sang Lothaw gayly.
The Duchess looked shocked. After a prolonged silence, Lothaw abruptly and gravely said:--
"If you please, ma'am, when I come into my property I should like to build some improved dwellings for the poor, and marry Lady Coriander."
"You amaze me, dear friend, and yet both your aspirations are noble and eminently proper," said the Duchess; "Coriander is but a child,--and yet," she added, looking graciously upon her companion, "for the matter of that, so are you."

CHAPTER III.
Mr. Putney Giles's was Lothaw's first grand dinner-party. Yet, by carefully watching the others, he managed to acquit himself creditably, and avoided drinking out of the finger-bowl by first secretly testing its contents with a spoon. The conversation was peculiar and singularly interesting.
"Then you think that monogamy is simply a question of the thermometer?" said Mrs. Putney Giles to her companion.
"I certainly think that polygamy should be limited by isothermal lines," replied Lothaw.
"I should say it was a matter of latitude," observed a loud talkative man opposite. He was an Oxford Professor with a taste for satire, and had made himself very obnoxious to the company, during dinner, by speaking disparagingly of a former well-known Chancellor of the Exchequer,--a great statesman and brilliant novelist,--whom he feared and hated.
Suddenly there was a sensation in the room; among the females it absolutely amounted to a nervous thrill. His Eminence, the Cardinal, was announced. He entered with great suavity of manner, and, after shaking hands with everybody, asking after their relatives, and chucking the more delicate females under the chin with a high-bred grace peculiar to his profession, he sat down, saying, "And how do we all find ourselves this evening, my dears?" in several different languages, which he spoke fluently.
Lothaw's heart was touched. His deeply religious convictions were impressed. He instantly went up to this gifted being, confessed, and received absolution. "To-morrow," he said to himself, "I will partake of the communion, and endow the Church with my vast estates. For the present I'll let the improved cottages go."

CHAPTER IV.
As Lothaw turned to leave the Cardinal, he was struck by a beautiful face. It was that of a matron, slim but shapely as an Ionic column. Her face was Grecian, with Corinthian temples; Hellenic eyes that looked from jutting eyebrows, like dormer- windows in an Attic forehead, completed her perfect Athenian outline. She wore a black frock-coat tightly buttoned over her bloomer trousers, and a standing collar.
"Your Lordship is struck by that face," said a social parasite.
"I am; who is she?"
"Her name is Mary Ann. She is married to an American, and has lately invented a new religion"
"Ah!" said Lothaw eagerly, with difficulty restraining himself from rushing toward her.
"Yes; shall I introduce you?"
Lothaw thought of Lady Coriander's High Church proclivities, of the Cardinal, and hesitated: "No, I thank you, not now."

CHAPTER V.
Lothaw was maturing. He had attended two woman's rights conventions, three Fenian meetings, had dined at White's, and had danced vis-a-vis to a prince of the blood, and eaten off of gold plates at Crecy House.
His stables were near Oxford, and occupied more ground than the University. He was driving over there one day, when he perceived some rustics and menials endeavoring to stop a pair of runaway horses attached to a carriage in which a lady and gentleman were seated. Calmly awaiting the termination of the accident, with high-bred courtesy Lothaw forbore to interfere until the carriage was overturned, the occupants thrown out, and the runaways secured by the servants, when he advanced and offered the lady the exclusive use of his Oxford stables.
Turning upon him a face whose perfect Hellenic details he remembered, she slowly dragged a gentleman from under the wheels into the light and presented him with ladylike dignity as her husband, Major-General Camperdown, an American.
"Ah," said Lothaw, carelessly, "I believe I have some land there. If I mistake not, my agent, Mr. Putney Giles, lately purchased the State of--Illinois--I think you call it."
"Exactly. As a former resident of the city of Chicago, let me introduce myself as your tenant."
Lothaw bowed graciously to the gentleman, who, except that he seemed better dressed than most