CHAPTER XXI.
"The very last of the roses," said Lady Mary.
She looked round the banqueting hall.

The wax candles shed a radiance upon their immediate surroundings, which accentuated the shadows of each unlighted corner.

Bowls of roses, red and white and golden, bloomed delicately in every recess against the black oak of the panels.
The flames were leaping on the hearth about a fresh log thrown into the red-hot wood-ash.

The two old sisters sat almost in the chimney corner, side by side, where they could exchange their confidences unheard.
Lady Belstone still mourned her admiral in black silk and _crepe_, whilst Miss Georgina's respect for her brother's memory was made manifest in plum-coloured satin.
Lady Mary, too, wore black to-night.

Since the day of Peter's return she had not ventured to don her favourite white.