It may be recollected, that when Lady Glenmore returned from the water-party, she was cruelly disappointed at finding only a note from her husband. "How little," she thought, as she sat at her toilette taking off the dress which in the morning she had not despised, as having been approved of and admired by him, but which now she cast aside with disdain—"how little men know how to value the affections of a wife! I have been for many hours in what is called a gay scene, and during the whole of the time, I cannot recal one moment when Glenmore was not present to my fancy; but he, I dare say, on the contrary, has not given a wish or a sigh to me." She looked in the glass as she thought this, and although a tear dimmed her eye, vanity whispered, "ought this to be so?"

"I am at least pretty; young, no one can deny; yet I am neglected for a number of old stupid men, a dull political discussion. Oh, those vile politics! how I hate them. And when he comes home, he will look so grave, so preoccupied! Oh, I wish there was no such thing in the world as a House of Lords or Commons. Is life itself long enough for love?—and must dull, dry business, consume the hours of youth, pale his cheek, perhaps blanch his hair, his beautiful hair, for they say care has whitened the locks even in one night! how very terrible this is."—And she arose, and walked to and fro in her room, and listened to every carriage that rolled by—then she took up Lalla Rookh—read some of the most impassioned passages, and wished herself a Peri.

"I have but one wish," she said, "that wish is to be loved as I love."—Poor Lady Glenmore! this beautiful phantom of a young heart is, nevertheless, in the sense in which she framed it, a mere deceit. Love such as her's does not grow by feeding on; there is a strength of character, a consciousness of self-dignity, the duties of a rational being, above all, the duties of a Christian, which must be cherished and understood, before any lasting fabric of happiness can be built on love. This was never more proved than in the restless impatience, the miserable (for such hours to such minds are miserable) anxiety and disappointment, which converted minutes into hours, and hours into ages, before Lord Glenmore returned. As she foresaw, when he did come, though he pressed her with almost rapturous tenderness to his heart, and inquired with trusting fondness at her party, hoping she had been well amused, he was himself so exhausted and harassed by business, that he professed himself unable to talk. "Why did you sit up for me, dearest?" he asked; "you will fatigue yourself uselessly; and I must really insist in future that you do not do so. At least, if you had been amusing yourself, I should, not be so sorry; but as it is, really Georgina, love, you must be better behaved in future—but why did you not go to the supper?"

"I came home to see you," she answered in a tremulous voice. Lord Glenmore chided her lovingly, and assured her that he had not less anxiously desired to return to her; but he said, smiling,

"You know you have the advantage over our sex, for your business is love—but our business is a matter apart from that gentler care. I long to tell you, my sweet Georgina, all that has interested me this day, and I think you will share in my satisfaction; but I am really unequal to enter into the details at present: to-morrow, love, you shall know all." Lady Glenmore only sighed; but with the sweet docility of her nature, never questioned his will, and his being with her constituted in fact all she cared to know. The truth was, that certain changes in the ministry had long been talked of, and on that morning overtures had been made to Lord Glenmore to take on himself an important office. The whole of the morning had been occupied in settling preliminaries, and ascertaining the sentiments of these public men with whom he was to act: for Lord Glenmore was a conscientious man, and would not mount a ladder, which he intended afterwards to cast down. It was not place he sought, but power, for purposes alike good and great. He felt within himself a capacity for the honours and distinctions he aspired to, and knew on principle the responsibility which attends success in such measures.

One of the first persons, whom he considered to be a man of inflexible integrity, and whom he wished for as a colleague in office, was Lord Albert D'Esterre; and since the situation which he had himself received threw several appointments into his own hands, Lord Glenmore lost no time in writing him the following note:

"My dear D'Esterre:—I think that I shall not be making a proposal unacceptable to your wishes, or in discrepancy with your future plans, when I announce to you that I have accepted the office of ——. The official appointments immediately connected with it of course become mine, and it would afford me the greatest satisfaction in my arduous undertaking, to have one possessed of your talents to aid me in the performance of its duties. Would you accept the office of under Secretary of State in my department? I need not express my ardent hope that you will consent. You know that our views of public matters coincide thoroughly—let me therefore hear from or see you as soon as possible.

"Your's ever most truly,
"Glenmore."

After despatching this note, Lord Glenmore sought his wife, and entered into an account of what passed the previous day; he spoke of the increased expediency that would ensue of her living very much in society, whether he could himself be present with her or not; and added, that she must not allow any fears or mistrust, either of herself or him, to lessen the pleasure which it was natural, at her age and with her charm of person, she should derive from the homage around her.

"It is not mistrust, dearest Glenmore, that makes me feel joyless in your absence, for what can I fear?—it is true that I am uninterested in every thing, when you are not by to share my pleasure; but indeed you quite mistake me, love, if you suppose that I am not all confidence in you. And as to myself, what is there that can be for a moment dangerous to my peace, when all my interest, all my wishes, are centred in your love?"

"My own best Georgina," he replied, pressing her to his breast, "be ever thus, and what can I wish for more. But, love, mark me—you are now no longer the girl, whose duties were centred in passive obedience to her relatives, and whose recreations were the innocent, but trifling pursuits of girlhood; you are the wife of a man who is become a servant of the public—whose high cares must necessarily debar him frequently from the enjoyment of those domestic pleasures which a less busy or responsible life might allow. It is now become your duty, love, to feel your own consequence in his—to play your part in the scale by which his actions must be measured, and to be aware that many will court you from an idea of your being wife to a minister, who would not for your own sake alone, perhaps, have thought of you; while others who previously courted you for the charm of your presence and the beauty of your outward shew, will now doubly affect your society, and endeavour, it may be, to use your influence to undue purposes. All are not pure and single-hearted like you, my dearest, and these cautions, believe me, are not given as to one whose worth I doubt, but, on the contrary, to one whose very ingenuousness and worth may prove a snare to her. In all that concerns mere knowledge of the world I recommend you to look to Lady Tenderden and Lady Tilney; they have passed creditably through the busy throng, and are certainly in all respects fashionable, and bear a high consideration in the estimation of the London world. You cannot do better, then, than to shape your course by their's in respect to what the French call conduite; and to the dictates of the heart, and moral duties, I refer you to your own and your excellent mother's."

Lady Glenmore scarcely knew why, but her heart swelled almost to bursting while her husband spoke thus to her; and it was with difficulty that she restrained the tears which seemed at every moment ready to overflow. The truth was she dwelt upon his first words, his declaration that his newly acquired honour would debar him from the pleasures of home society; and she looked up timidly as with tender accents she asked, "whether she was doomed now to be always absent from him."

"I trust not, dearest; at all events, you know my best and fondest interests are centred in you, and you would, I am sure, consider your husband's advantage and glory to be of value to you, even though these were obtained by the sacrifice of his company."

She said "yes," but felt decidedly, that had she spoken the truth, the "yes" would have been "no."

Lord Glenmore received several notes, and with a preoccupied air which prevented his observing the melancholy depicted on his wife's countenance, he snatched a hasty embrace, and was hurrying away, when looking back he said, "Remember love, not a word of this to any one, even to your mother. A few days will release the restraint I put upon your tongue," he added, smiling; "but in you I expect to find the wonder, that a woman can keep a secret;—in all things, I believe in, and trust you. Adieu, love, adieu." And he was gone.

That which would have pleased a vain woman, and gratified an ambitious one, fell only like lead on the young Georgina's heart.

"So," she said, sinking down in a chair, "I am a minister's wife. And am I the happier? Far, far from it; I am seldom now to see my husband, and when I do, the concerns of the public are to form our consideration and discourse; whereas, hitherto, in the short sunshine of our marriage, ourselves, our mutual hopes, our own dear home, have constituted all our care; and I fondly trusted, perhaps foolishly hoped, would have continued to do so. What a desolating change! But he says I must prepare for it; and since it is his will that thus it should be, I will endeavour to hide the mournful feelings of my heart. My dear mamma shall not see that I have wept either, for she will, perhaps, ascribe my tears to my husband's temper, and that would be worse still." So saying, she roused herself from the despondency into which she had fallen, bathed her face, called up smiles which were not genuine for the first time in her life; and, having re-arranged her dress, she said to herself as she cast a glance at her mirror, "Am I not now metamorphosed into the wife of a minister?" Just as she was preparing to ring her bell for her carriage, Lady Tenderden arrived.

"How well you are looking, la belle aux yeux bleus," said Lady Tenderden, kissing her: "there certainly never was any body who had the azure of the skies so exactly reflected in her eyes." This might be true; but it certainly was not true that she was looking well. To a vague answer given by Lady Glenmore she made no allusion; but looking at her very fixedly, so fixedly that it made her colour deeply, Lady Tenderden said, "Yet methinks something more than usual has occurred—is the report true?"

"What report?"

"Nay, now, do not make the discreet, for by to-morrow it will be in the newspapers. Come, tell me, your friend, am I not to wish you joy?"

"Of what, I may ask you in return, Lady Tenderden, for I can sincerely answer, that no increased cause of joy has befallen me, that I know of." This was said so very naturally, that her interrogator was posed. Judging by herself, Lady Tenderden conceived it impossible that the report of Lord Glenmore's having accepted a high office in government, which would have been the envy of so many, should be true; or else she thought the little lady must be more silly than she ever believed her to be. She went on, nevertheless, to sound Lady Glenmore in various ways, expecting to make out something relative to the subject; but Lady Glenmore's calm indifference totally foiled her, as she herself afterwards confessed; and she set it down in her own mind that for the present she could not be of any particular service to her, or derive any more reflected lustre from her, as being the friend of a woman whose husband was in power.

How the simplicity of a genuine character confounds the pertinacity of a keen worldly mind! Lady Tenderden was completely at fault: when another visitor, who came much on the same errand, afforded an additional proof of the truth of this observation. Lady Tilney came up to Lady Glenmore, and after the first salutation, entered with all her energy and eloquence upon politics; inveighing against government measures, and hoping that now a man of more liberal principles had come in, some change of measures at least would be adopted. Lady Glenmore sat abstracted, and began arranging her embroidery frame; seeing that there was no chance of Lady Tilney's speech coming to a conclusion:

"Well, my dear, and now," the latter said, "you will really have a part to play: how I envy you! What interest—what endless business will devolve on you! Were I you, I would propose to Lord Glenmore to write all his private letters for him; by this means you know you would be au fait of all the state secrets, and could, in a great measure, guide things your own way. You write rapidly, I believe; and your hand is not bad; it wants a little more character perhaps: but you know there is the man who advertises to teach any hand-writing. I do assure you he is excellent—I tried him myself, and a very few lessons from him would teach you to give your writing the firm diplomatic air—and you would quickly learn that significant style which means nothing; and by which, should any thing occur to make you change your mind (Lord Glenmore's, I mean), you could twist the phrase into another meaning, suitable to the occasion. I am sure I am always for decision and truth; but in certain cases prudence and caution are necessary; and therefore these resources are requisite to be observed in diplomatic writing. If you look back, you will always see it has been so in all ministers' letters."

Lady Glenmore, who had sat silent hitherto, now conceived herself obliged to speak, and replied, "that she knew nothing of diplomacy, except the name; that every thing of the kind always made her yawn, and she hoped she should never have to copy any letters of business for any body." Lady Tilney in her turn stared, and observing that Lady Glenmore was very young, she said: "Well, but at all events you will be delighted to see your name perpetually with all the people in power; and to hear them say, that is the minister's beautiful wife! and the honours of your husband, at least to any one so domestically inclined, must be a great delight."

"I do not want Lord Glenmore to have any more honours than he has, for my own sake; but whatever pleases him will certainly please me."

"Oh, oh! so then you do confess it? and he is minister for ——"

"I am happy to hear it, if it really is to confer all the honour you seem to think upon him. But I wish you would tell me what you mean, Lady Tilney, for I do not quite understand you." There was a sort of real not caring about Lady Glenmore, which deceived Lady Tilney, as it had done Lady Tenderden. It was a thing so totally out of Lady Tilney's calculation that any one should not be enchanted at such a situation, that she was persuaded either that the fact was not so, or that Lady Glenmore did not know that it was the case.

Just as this inquisition had ceased, a servant entered with a few lines written in pencil on a card, which he gave to Lady Tenderden: they were from Mr. Leslie Winyard, to say, that having seen her carriage at the door, and having something very particular to communicate to her, he requested ten minutes' conversation, if he might be allowed to come up. Lady Tenderden remembered Lady Glenmore's former scruples about receiving him, but determined to overcome them.

"ChÈre ladi," she said, "you must positively, notwithstanding the fear of Lord Glenmore, allow me to see Mr. Leslie Winyard; I will take all the imminent risk of the danger upon myself; and besides, you know, visiting me is not visiting you." Lady Glenmore looked exceedingly distressed, and said, "If you want to speak to Mr. Leslie Winyard, why can you not speak to him in your carriage?"

"Oh! that is so uncomfortable. Besides, Lady Tilney, I appeal to you, was there ever any thing so strange as Lady Glenmore's refusing to let Mr. Leslie Winyard come up stairs to see me, merely because le tiran de mari does not approve of morning visits from gentlemen?"

"Pho, pho," said Lady Tilney, "he was only joking, and that dear little good Georgina thought he was serious." Then turning to the servant who was waiting for orders, "Shew Mr. Leslie Winyard up stairs directly," commanding, as she always did, or tried to do, in every place and every person. In a few minutes Mr. Leslie Winyard made his appearance; and having paid his compliments to Lady Glenmore and Lady Tilney for some little time, he then stepped aside with Lady Tenderden, and after conversing together, apparently engaged on a most interesting subject, they returned to the other ladies, and he entered into general conversation with his usual light and amusing anecdote. At length, however, Lady Tilney arose, saying to Mr. Winyard, "well, notwithstanding your agrÉmens, I must go, for I have a hundred things to do." Lady Tenderden echoed this declaration, and they both went away, leaving Mr. Leslie Winyard, who seemed determined to sit them out en tÊte-À-tÊte with Lady Glenmore.

The consciousness that any thing has been said on any subject, always creates in an unartificial mind an awkwardness when the predicament that has led to the discussion really occurs;—and Lady Glenmore experienced this painfully. Every instant the sensation became stronger, and, of course, was not lost to the observation of her companion, though he affected not to perceive it; and by dint of feigning ignorance, and talking on indifferent subjects, he arrived at bringing her into the calm and comfortable frame of mind he had in view, one in which she would feel le diable n'est pas si noir; and this he effected with his usual address, till he evidently saw that she was rather diverted than otherwise by his conversation.

He then led the discourse to music, and entreated her once more to sing the Sempre piÙ t'amo of Caraffa. She readily agreed, and their voices were in beautiful and thrilling unison when the door opened, and in came Lord Glenmore. His wife suddenly stopped, and rising from the instrument, looked abashed. Lord Glenmore, with the manners of a man of the world, addressed Mr. Leslie Winyard, regretted that he had interrupted the music, declared that he had some letters to write, and prayed him to finish the duet. But Lady Glenmore tried in vain to recommence singing—her voice faltered, her hand trembled, as she touched the keys—her eyes wandered to her husband with an expression of inquiry and uneasiness; and Mr. Leslie, too much the man of the world, and too much skilled in his mÉtier to push matters at an unfavourable moment, declared that he was exceedingly sorry, but found himself under the necessity of going away, having an appointment on business which he could not put off. Apologizing, therefore, to Lord Glenmore, to whom he always took care to pay particular deference, for not being able to remain, he hurried out.

Lady Glenmore hastened with considerable trepidation of manner to explain to her husband how it had chanced that he found her singing with Mr. Leslie Winyard; but Lord Glenmore seemed more deeply engaged in thinking of the letter he was perusing than of what she was saying, and only looked up smilingly in her face, and said, "My dear love, why are you so agitated about such a trifle?"—"Is it a trifle?" she said: "well, then, I need not care, and am quite happy again." She kissed his forehead; and further discourse was prevented by a servant's entering, to inform Lord Glenmore that Lord D'Esterre requested to see him if he was disengaged. Lord Glenmore immediately desired that he might be shewn into his private apartment; and at the same time gave orders that no one else might be admitted except the persons whose names were on the list; then pressing his wife's hand tenderly, but evidently much preoccupied in mind, he left the room.

"Is it possible," thought Lady Glenmore, looking after him—"can this be my husband, who so lately appeared to have no thought save what we mutually shared? and now we seem suddenly cast asunder: different interests, different hours, different societies, all seems to place us, as if by magic, apart, and to divide us from each other. He too, who dwelt so particularly on my not receiving morning visits from young men, now seems to think it is become a matter of indifference, or rather not to think about it at all. Has power then changed him so quickly? What a horrible thing power is!—how it transforms every thing into its own heartless self! Surely, surely, it is the most miserable thing in the world to be a minister's wife!" To dissipate the melancholy she felt, she ordered her carriage, and proceeded to visit her mother, who she found was ill, having caught cold in coming out of the Opera.

"Why did you not inform me of your indisposition before, dearest mamma?—I would have been here early?"

"I know, love, that you would not have been remiss in any kindness; but when a woman is married, her first duty is to her husband; and I fancy," she added, smiling, and implying by her manner that she knew more than she would exactly say; "I fancy Lord Glenmore will occupy more of your time than ever, dear Georgina, if what is reported be true."

"I am sure he will never prevent my coming to you, under any circumstances; but really he has so much business, that I see less and less of him every day."

"Indeed!" said Lady Melcomb, looking rather blank. Fortunately for both parties, Lord Melcomb came in from his morning walk, with a countenance even more bright and cheerful than was his wont. "So, my love," he cried, "I fear you must now be no longer my little Georgy, if the current news be true, I must look at you in a new light—eh?" and he examined her countenance.

"I am very sorry to hear that, dearest papa; I was so happy in the old one, that nothing can make me wish to change in your eyes."

"Come come, love, tell us now, has Lord Glenmore accepted the appointment of —— or not?"

"Whenever he tells me to say that he has done so, I shall certainly, my dearest papa and mamma, make you the first to be acquainted with the event."

"Well, Georgina, I see how it is: you need not say more, for you are already quite diplomatic in your mode of answering. But you are right, my child: whatever confidence your husband reposes in you, you ought to regard it as sacred;" and Lord Melcomb changed the subject like a good and a sensible man, who wishes really that his child should prove a good and faithful wife. "You have given the best earnest any girl can give," he said, "my sweet Georgina, of being an invaluable treasure to your husband, by having first been such to your parents; and the obedience you paid us should now be implicitly transferred to Lord Glenmore. The woman who has not learnt obedience, is likely to be very unhappy: for it is surely one of the first duties in every sphere of a woman's life. You know the lines, that I have so often repeated to you, and I am sure you practise them, my own Georgina, as forming the great golden rule to be observed by a married woman: one who

"But when I say obedience, I do not mean that slavish obedience, which in matters of conscience must remain a question for conscience to decide; I mean that system of gentle acquiescence in all the minor motives of life, which can alone render the domestic circle a circle of harmony."

Lady Glenmore assured her father she had not forgotten, and never should forget his excellent lessons; and that every thing which he had recommended her to do, she invariably called to mind every night and morning. Lord Melcomb had, during a very busy life, acquitted himself under all circumstances with credit both abroad and at home, and if he had leant to the despotic side of governing in his own house, he had done it with so much gentleness as well as firmness, that no one felt inclined to consider the yoke heavy. His daughter had never even felt it could be so, for she was by nature and inclination a docile gentle being, leaning upon those she loved with implicit confidence for guidance and support. It was at this particular moment more than usually sweet to her to be in the society of her parents, and she promised that if Lord Glenmore were engaged in the evening, she would bring her work, and instead of passing the then dull hours at home, find a sweet solace with them; they were a happy family, united in the bond of the strictest union, and even at a temporary parting felt pain, in proportion as being together gave them pleasure; but it was time for Lady Glenmore, she said, to go home, and they separated.

The interview between Lord Glenmore and Lord D'Esterre that morning had passed to their mutual satisfaction; their general opinion of public affairs, and their views of domestic happiness were too similar for them not to draw together; and yet there were points of difference in their character, which tended to keep alive an awakening interest, and render the one more necessary to the other; but in regard to the great question then agitating the public mind, Lady Tilney was quite mistaken in her ideas of his principles, which were at variance in many respects with what she called liberalism.

The fact was, the minister of the day, having discovered that those whom he had allowed to continue in office, on agreed and well-defined principles as to the line they were to pursue in their political conduct, were acting out of the pale of their engagements, and forfeiting the pledges given to himself; consequently, with that decision of character, and straightforwardness of conduct, which formed the leading feature of his life, he availed himself of the first favourable opportunity of breaking off a connexion with men, whose moral complexions were so very unlike his own. Well knowing how vast were his resources, he sought among the rising nobility of England (who, take them altogether, form perhaps, a body more talented, and more patriotic than any other nation in the world) for that support and coadjutancy which the emergency of the times demanded, in order to maintain the constitutional rights of the nation. Lord Glenmore was one of these, and amongst the parties whom he, in his turn, named as being those he wished should co-operate with him in his individual department, Lord D'Esterre stood pre-eminent. This happy nomination met at once with the entire approbation of the minister, whose discernment was as penetrating, as it was prompt and decisive.

Lord Albert, it may be, in his acceptance of office, was not influenced alone by political views. He felt that, in the uncertain and agitated state of his mind, some great and commanding power for exertion was necessary to him; some influential weight of sufficient magnitude to poise the fluctuations of a mind, whose energies he was conscious were wasting themselves in a diseased state of excitement. He thought that by engaging in a political career, where the duties imposed were of an imperious and absorbing nature, he should best find that refuge against himself which he deemed it wise to seek. Men in such cases have most indubitably great advantages over women; many a noble career lies open to them. When they are oppressed by any woe of a private nature, they may in the exercise of their powers find arms against a sea of troubles; but women have only one great lesson to learn, greater still perhaps if duly entertained—to suffer resignedly.

Lord Glenmore and Lord Albert prolonged their discussion to a late hour—so late that Lord Glenmore pressed him to remain and dine. "We have no company to-day," he said, "and Lady Glenmore will excuse your toilette." The invitation was too acceptable to be refused, and they passed into the drawing-room, where they found Lady Glenmore all smiles and beauty; for the idea of enjoying her husband's company had again restored her to her wonted placid happiness.

The conversation took that happy course which it ever does when similarity of tastes directs the subjects; and as the minds of these young men were not only of a superior cast, but their manners too formed on that refined model which, when it is accompanied by intellectual power, gives grace to force, their social intercourse was truly such, as one likes to think is the sample of a high-born, high-bred British nobleman.

Lady Glenmore listened with no insipid mawkish indifference, even to matters beyond her ken, and the remark she ventured now and then to slide in was one that bespoke a diffident, but not deficient understanding. A delighted glance of approbation occasionally escaped from Lord Glenmore, in homage to his wife, and as Lord Albert beheld this married happiness, he could not help sighing, as he thought "such might have been mine;" and he almost unconsciously drew a parallel between Lady Glenmore and Adeline, in which he did not deceive himself in giving the decided palm to the latter.

When he was preparing to depart, he found it was so late that he drove home; but when there, the same incapacity to settle himself to any occupation which he had before experienced, returned, and he fancied that he might yet be in time for an hour of the ballet. So he ordered his carriage, made a brief toilette, and drove to the Opera-house. "It is too late," he thought, "to go to South Audley Street; I shall disturb Lady Dunmelraise;" but yet the idea that he had not called upon her that day haunted him painfully.

Arrived at the Opera, he walked in, and hearing, as he passed the pit-door, a favourite air sung by Pasta, he made his way through the crowd, obtained a tolerable place, and was listening intently to the music, when he was accosted by Mr. George Foley. The recollection of what he had suffered the previous evening came freshly to his feelings, like a dark dense cloud, obscuring every other idea. Mr. Foley, either not seeing, or not choosing to see, the coldness of his reception, pertinaciously kept up a conversation with him on various subjects, precisely in that quiet and self-satisfied manner, which is so insufferable to a person under feelings of irritation. Nor did Mr. Foley cease talking till he suddenly turned round, and saw some one in the boxes, to whom he nodded with much apparent familiarity of interest. Lord Albert mechanically turned his head also, and beheld Lady Hamlet Vernon—who kissed her hand to him; and both of them, as if by mutual consent, proceeded to join her. She was but just arrived, having been at a dinner at the Leinsengens, she said, and her face was lit up with more than ordinary animation as she greeted them on their entering; then noticing to Lord Albert to take the seat next her in front of the box, she bent towards him, so as to whisper in his ear, "I heartily congratulate you; I have just heard of the arrangements at the Leinsengens where I dined, as I have already told you, and where I heard all the finest things in the world said of you, as I have not yet told you; but I assure you the generality of the persons there were, I really believe, for once sincere in what they said. But you do not express any satisfaction at this event yourself: why are you so exceedingly indifferent?" and her eyes spoke a language which was any thing but that of indifference.

"Because," he said, "I do not avow that the news you have heard is true. We must wait and see the event publicly announced, before one can have any feeling about it, one way or the other." Lady Hamlet Vernon continued to banter him on his cautious reserve for some time; but did not press the matter further, as she saw his dislike to being probed on the subject.

"Only remember," she whispered, "you have one friend, who enters into all your joys and sorrows, and feels every thing that betides you with a keen perception of interest." After some vain attempts on her part to unite Mr. Foley in a conversation with them, which she resumed aloud, he being perfectly aware that Lord Albert in fact engrossed her completely, took an early opportunity of withdrawing. Lord Albert remained till near the close of the ballet in earnest conversation with Lady Hamlet Vernon, interrupted only occasionally by chance visitors, who seeing the preoccupied air, and observing the thoughtful expression of Lord Albert, did not long obtrude themselves. He would probably have remained where he was till the entire end of the performance, had not a sudden movement in the box opposite, attended with bustle, and some lady apparently fainting, caught his attention. He looked eagerly again, and in another minute recognized Lady Delamere, and thought in the reclining figure that he could trace a likeness to Lady Adeline Seymour. Hastily rising, he rushed out of the box, without making any apology to Lady Hamlet Vernon, or mentioning the cause of his very abrupt departure.

When he arrived at the opposite side of the house, he found his fears and conjectures true; and his heart smote him in an instant, as he figured to himself what Lady Adeline's feelings must have been, in seeing him occupied so long a time, and his attention so intensely fixed upon another, as he was conscious his had been on Lady Hamlet Vernon. Although Lady Adeline might not know who she was, yet the circumstance of his not having been near her all day, the reason of which she could not know, together with the fact which she saw, namely, that he preferred the society of another to her's, were all circumstances that struck him with self-condemnation, and his look, and manner, implied the full expression of tender penitence. But Lady Adeline was still insensible; she could not see, or observe, what his feelings then were at beholding her thus; but with Lady Delamere the case was different; he thought he read in her cold reception of his offered services, and the penetrating glance which she cast upon him, her complete knowledge of all that had passed in his mind relative to Lady Hamlet Vernon, and he shrunk confused from her gaze.

This, however, was neither a time nor place adapted for explanations; and, indeed, to whom was he to make them? To no one did he feel responsible but to Adeline; to no one he felt would they be satisfactory, save to Adeline. He knew her mind was truth itself, and so utterly incapable of deception, that she could not believe that any one would deceive her; he determined therefore to unbosom himself to her, and be forgiven. With these feelings, which were rapid and almost simultaneous in their effect, though language is slow in expressing them, he caught the sinking Adeline in his arms, and lifted her inanimate form into the corridor, where a seat being hastily taken from the box, he supported her, kneeling by her side. At this moment Mr. Foley appeared, breathless with haste, bearing some water and a smelling-bottle, which he proceeded to apply, whilst Lady Delamere aided him in his efforts to restore Adeline, and was assisted by several of their acquaintance who were passing by.

Lord Albert could only partially be of use, as one arm supported her; but with the other he tenderly pressed her hand as he bathed it in the water. Animation, after a few minutes, returned; she opened her eyes, and gazed vacantly; but in another moment her senses were fully restored; and on recognizing Lord Albert, she quickly closed her eyes again, and a sort of convulsive throb seemed about to make her relapse; but struggling to disengage her hand, which he let drop with an expression of sorrow and dismay, Lady Adeline made an effort to recover herself; and half rising, she turned to Lady Delamere, and said inarticulately, "I should like, dear aunt, to be taken home."

"Stop, for heaven's sake," cried Lord Albert D'Esterre, stepping forward, as if to catch her tottering frame; "wait till you are more recovered."

"No," she said; but speaking still as if to Lady Delamere, "I shall be better when I am at home; dear aunt, let me go." Lady Delamere, judging of Adeline's feelings by her own observations of the circumstances which she thought had caused her sudden indisposition, said coolly, addressing Lord Albert, "Thank you, Lord Albert, but Adeline is the best judge of her own feelings." Then turning to Mr. Foley, she asked him if he had seen her servants. He answered in the affirmative; and added, "the carriage will be up by this time certainly."

"Then," rejoined Lady Delamere, "have the goodness, Mr. Foley, to give your arm to my niece;" and she continued, with marked emphasis, "Adeline dear, I will support you on the other side." It was impossible for Lord Albert to mistake what this arrangement implied; his whole frame was convulsed, though he betrayed no gesture of suffering, but stood rooted to the spot, as his eyes gazed on her, walking away feebly between her two supporters, without thinking of following her; and then, by a sudden impulse, he rushed after her, and arrived at the door just in time to see Mr. Foley get into the carriage, after having placed the ladies in safety, and to hear the word "home" pronounced by the footman as they drove from the door of the Opera-house.

He mechanically turned round, and with an agitation of mind that allowed not of reflection, returned to Lady Hamlet Vernon's box. He sat down without speaking; and, gazing in vacancy, remained for some time like one in a deep reverie. Fortunately there was no one in the box but themselves; and though Lady Hamlet Vernon was quite aware of his situation, and partly guessed the cause, she was too deeply interested herself in the issue of the event to press indiscreetly into his feelings at that moment, but simply asked him "if he were not well?" "Oh, quite well," he replied; "only rather astonished.—It was,"—he stopped—seemed to muse again, and then he added to himself, "they went away together." Lady Hamlet Vernon's eyes filled with tears—(tears will come sometimes to some people when they are called)—she said, in a low voice, "I must always grieve for what gives you pain; but I have thought"—she paused.—Lord Albert fixed his eyes on her for an instant, as if he would inquire, "what have you thought?" but the latter, without appearing to deny that she had thought, at the same time added, in a hurried tone,

"Yet, my dear Lord Albert, let not my thoughts weigh with you; let not a momentary appearance alone decide on any measure which may influence your whole life; look dispassionately on appearances; sound them, sift them thoroughly, ere you allow yourself to act upon them." There was a gentle reason in these words, an expression of heart-felt interest in the speaker, which at the present instant was doubly efficacious in turning the current of his thoughts and feelings in favour of her who uttered them; and he gave way to a warmth of expression in his reply which was joy to her heart. Still she repressed the triumph she felt at this impassioned answer; and it was only when he handed her to her carriage, that the pressure of her hand spoke a tenderer language, which vibrated through his frame.

END OF VOL. II.

LONDON:
PRINTED BY J. L. COX, GREAT QUEEN STREET.