"No; the last of an old one. I know you have one. Let me look in your engagement-box. See! here it is. I shall ring for Gabrielle, and come back and fetch you at eleven.

Pray, do not torment me! Even if I dress, I shall never be able to go. Do you know if my sister is to be there?"

66 Yes; she begged me to meet her at eleven." "Well, I shall make the effort to please you. I am always making efforts for the satisfaction of others. Perhaps I may be able to stay_half an hour. To say the truth, I rather want to see Lord Wincham or Lord Hartston, without writing to them to come here. I have been thinking it might be possible to get Clarence an attaché-ship at Naples or Constantinople; and one is sure of meeting the ministers at Almack's."

At eleven, accordingly, I called for her; and never saw her look better or more captivating. The moment the Duke of Merioneth came in, she carried him off to one of the upper benches, where no one was likely to interfere with her, in the way she has of appropriating people without any appearance of design; and so successful were her little agaceries, that, in ten minutes, she had not only accomplished an invitation for herself and Clarence to the breakfast, but could have procured one for Lady Mardynville, or any other obnoxious individual, had she been so inclined. While they were chatting together, Mrs. Crowhurst, who affects to palliate her impertinences under a character of originality, sauntered towards them, saying, "Duke, I find you have a déjeuner, to which no one is to be invited; which makes me, of course, determine to be of the party. Say 'yes,' with a good grace, and tell me how happy you shall be to see me."

"Most happy, on any other day; to-morrow, pas possible. I have no permission to extend my invitations." "Permission? from whom?"

"That is not my secret. When you give me one to keep you shall find me equally faithful to the trust."

And he recommenced his conversation with Lady Cecilia, in a tone that rendered it impossible for Mrs. Crowhurst to renew her attack; so away she went to flutter, "like an eagle in a dovecot," the flock of pigeons she has marked as her own among the lordlings and boy-honourables.

But my own turn was coming. I trust and believe that nothing is more indifferent to me than the homage of such a man as Lord Penrhyn, whom I neither like nor respect; and I should indeed despise myself, if, independent as I am, his recent accession of importance could alter my intentions towards him. Nevertheless, I must own myself deeply piqued by the line of conduct he has taken up. I did not dream of meeting him at Almack's; it was hardly decent, I think, that he should appear at a ball so soon after his grandfather's interment. In these times, few men care for their grandfathers; but, les bienséances avant tout! We parted intimate friends. He was with me in St. James's Place an hour one morning after that unlucky drive from Almack's; chatty, agreeable, empressé as usual,— if not quite a declared lover, as nearly so as possible. He came to our box, at the opera, on the Saturday night, and sat there a fixture, comme à l'ordinaire. On the Monday Lord Penrhyn died, and of course I saw no more of him.

Last night, at Almack's, having just finished a waltz with my little cousin Clarence, I was proceeding on his arm into the tea-room, when in the doorway, sablesuited as night, or an inheriting peer, stood his lordship. I expected he would extend his hand, as usual, en passant; and almost feared I put out mine to meet it, when, lo! a bow, as frozen and distant as from the Duke of to a new-made baronet! I was staggered, and only the more amazed when I saw, that by his side stood his friend, the crocodile, bouche béante! mouth, eyes, and ears, as usual, wide open, who has probably circulated the history, by this time, through White's, Crockford's, and the Travellers'.

Lord Penrhyn remained at the ball as long or longer than I did, but never once approached within miles of me. He danced only with Lady Sophia Rossana, and talked only to her family. But I fancied, at one moment, I saw significant looks passing between him and Mrs. Percy. What can be the meaning of all this? Does he pretend to resent the newspaper reports of our marriage? or, perhaps (who knows?), fancies that his character was injured by being seen with me tête-à-tête in my carriage!

I was half afraid that Clarence, who is preux comme Bayard, was going to take more notice than was desi

rable of the affair. He knows the familiar terms existing between myself and Penrhyn only last week; and, I suspect, observed me offer my hand. Glancing at my little cousin just afterward, I. saw his cheeks flushed, and his eyes sparkling.

"Has there been any coolness between you and Penrhyn?" he inquired.

"Comme vous voyez," I replied, as equivocatingly as I could.

"I see only that he is a d-d coxcomb," said Clarence, with more warmth than became the time and place; "I hope, dear Mrs. Delaval, you will take no farther notice of the fellow."

"To cut a person is, in my opinion, to take the greatest possible notice of him," I replied. "I shall henceforward treat Lord Penrhyn as I feel towards him,— with complete indifference."

I suspect Clarence related what had occurred to Lady Cecilia; for she came to me immediately afterward, and, without saying a word, carried me off to Lady Clackmannan's clique, and devoted her whole evening to me. This gave me an opportunity of noticing how much her feelings prevail over what she calls her "principles," in the affair between Clarence and Alicia. She adores: her son, and dotes upon her niece; and, though fully aware the match would be most imprudent, and intending to discourage it, unconsciously lends the young people all the assistance in her power. She cannot bear to see her boy looking uneasy, and whispers, "She is gone into the tea-room." By-and-by, fearing that Lady Alicia may forget her engagements to dance with her cousin, she exclaims, "Remember this is the fourth contre-danse-remember you are engaged to Clarence." I do not wonder Lady Clackmannan is angry with her, but she cannot help it. The warmest feelings are still glowing under the leprous crust of worldliness she has contracted in the contaminating lazar-house of fashion.

A charming day at Hazlebank! I soon discovered why the duke was so difficult in his invitations, and so early in his hour. The party was made to meet his mother; a very superior woman, who lives in retirement at a fine old family mansion, near Harefield, and is treated by her family with marked respect. The dutchess has a most distinguished look. She reminds

me of Sir Thomas Lawrence's full-length portrait of Mrs. Siddons. I thought her a little stately till I was presented to her by her son, when I found her highbreeding tempered by the mildest courtesy. With such a mother, I no longer wonder that the Duke of Merioneth has shown himself difficult in the choice of a wife.

Not having been at Hazlebank before, I was much interested by the collection of modern pictures and sculptures; still more so by its conservatories, containing the first collection of exotics in the kingdom. The duke, aware that my engouement on this point equals his own, was good-natured enough to be my cicerone, and explain all that was worth notice. Our party collected in the orangery, where he was pointing out a new system of ingrafting practised in Italy, when he suddenly appealed to Lord Hartston, who was standing near us, for confirmation of some startling facts, compelling him to be a third person in our conversation; which lasted so long, by-the-way, that the saturnine philosopher and myself can no longer avoid being on speaking terms. We had an elegant déjeûner without effort or pretensions; and afterward, as the evening was warm, came out under the cedar-trees to take ices and coffee. It was all very pleasant, the party well assorted -the locale enchanting. I was quite sorry when dusk came on, and the carriages were ordered to return to town. How dusty, noisy, and vulgar the streets of London appeared, after fresh, dewy, delightful Hazlebank! I met Mrs. Percy afterward at Mrs. Harrington's ball; who, when she heard that we had had neither music, dancing, tumbling, nor sillabubs, at the duke's, exclaimed-" Je vous fais mon compliment of your breakfast. I am really grateful to the duke for not involving me in so humdrum an affair."

I am ashamed to admit how much I feel annoyed by this business with Lord Penrhyn. I never wished him to propose to me, or to have the renown of having refused him; but quite as little did I wish him to assume the tone of having refused me. His deportment at Almack's will, at all events, lead people to suppose that he resents the rumour of our marriage as arising from myself. Altogether, I am out of spirits. On Monday my sister leaves town for Bedfordshire; and, though I have been unable to persist in my intention of declining my projected visit, I cannot bear the thoughts of part

ing with her, now I have ascertained from personal observation how uneasy is the life she leads with Herbert. In spite of his talents and good qualities, her attachment must eventually give way under the influence of his detestable temper.

Saturday-How strange !-I had agreed to dine quietly at the Herberts' to-day; and, giving up the opera, to pass the evening with Armine. Their hour is seven, and I was punctual; but my brother-in-law was still out. Half past seven,-eight,-half past eight,-no Herbert! Armine grew horribly uneasy, for Henry is punctual to a fault, and to a still greater fault exactive of punctuality in others. The butler came in twenty times to know if dinner was to be served; the children cried at being sent to bed without kissing papa; and at length Armine thought it would be civil to me to propose sitting down to dinner. As I oftener dine at nine this hot weather than any other hour, of course I took pity on my poor sister's fidgetiness, and refused. At last, as the clock of Park-street chapel struck half past nine, a knock at the door, and in came Mr. Herbert; looking as cross as if he had lost half his fortune by a fall of the stocks.

*

"We fancied you had changed your mind, and were gone to dine at the club: but Harriet would not hear of sitting down without you," said my sister, in a deprecating tone.

"She is very obliging. You had much better have dined. The dinner must be spoiled. I could have had a mutton chop at a minute's notice."

66 "Oh, no! much better sit down all comfortably together. Dinner will be on the table in a moment. Have you washed your hands?"

"Did you not hear me come straight into this room as I entered the house?"

"Is any thing the matter?" interposed I, stoutly; "has any thing occurred to annoy you ?"

Nothing! I was detained by business."

"Not disagreeable, I hope?"

"When was business ever agreeable ?" he replied, stalking out of the room.

Dinner was now announced; and, by the time the soup was cold, Herbert made his reappearance from his dressing-room; refreshed by cold water, but still