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She saw now that it was not a dissipated face; it was as smooth and unlined as polished marble, which at present it resembled. The sun was all but gone now, the horizon a deep shade of purple. A wide terrace then led to large iron gates,' over which were placed the two celebrated figures of Raving and Melancholy Madness, executed by the elder Cibber, and commemorated by Pope in the Dunciad, in the wellknown lines:— "Close to those walls where Folly holds her throne, And laughs to think Monroe would take her down, Where, o'er the gates, by his famed father's hand, Great Cibber's brazen, brainless brothers stand. ‘Are you going to come quietly, mademoiselle?’ he demanded with grim determination. Wood—" "That's false!" cried a voice behind him. ” “No, I don’t. Supper was over. "Her blood be upon her own head, then," replied Rowland, sternly. ‘Very well, mademoiselle, so be it,’ he snapped. “You must fetch a doctor,” she said.
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