PALO ALTO.CAL COLLECTION OF BRITISH AUTHORS. VOL. CCCXXVI. THE HEIRESS OF HAUGHTON. IN TWO VOLUMES. VOL. II. THE HEIRESS OF HAUGHTON. VOL. II. CHAPTER I. Money, like manure, does no good till it is spread. There is no real use of riches, except in destitution; the rest is all conceit. BACON. WHEN Imogene entered the drawing-room, the sun had been sometime set; and, though the windows were still open, admitting the evening air, candles were lighted, and every one engaged in some way or other. Mr. Glenroy and Mr. Elmsley sat at one of the tables, examining some books of architectural drawings, and Albert, standing behind, was looking over them. Lady Ulick, extended her full length upon a sofa, with the last new novel in her hand, was yawning as if she would dislocate her pretty jaws. Lord Ulick, upon another, in much the same attitude, was audibly snoring over his newspaper. Charlotte had challenged me to chess, and we sat at a small table, in all the futile seriousness of that most respectable game. Lady Faulconer, in a distant corner of the room, was engaged with Eugene and Laura, to whom she was teaching the mysteries of back-gammon; and the lively rattle of the box and a pleasant little The Heiress of Haughton. II. 1 |