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Sunday night was Lady Capel's great card-night, and the rooms were full

of tables surrounded by powdered and painted beauties intent upon the

gaold The odour of old snuff-boxes, and the fluttering of fans, and the

sharp, technical calls of the gahter of

hollow hearts There was a hired singing-girl with a lute at one end of

the rooreen meadow and larks But

she was poorly dressed and indifferent looking; and she sang with a

sad, hts were far off Hyde would have

passed her without a glance; but, as he approached, she broke her

love-ditty in two, and began to sing, with alook at him,-"They say there is a happy land,

Where husbands never prove untrue;

Where lovely ift to rue;

Where men can make and keep a vow,

And wives are never in despair

I'et there?"

The question seemed so directly addressed to Hyde that he hesitated a

smile

continued,-"They say there really is a land,