The day at length arrived, to which so many had looked forward with lingering expectation, and which, to the young in general, was one of delightful anticipation. Among these, however, there was one who, though both young and beauteous, and likely, under other circumstances, to have enjoyed the idea of coming out into the dazzling scene of the world, remained unmoved by the general festivity, from a dread of the trial which the scene would probably bring to her feelings.

Lady Delamere had communicated to Lady Dunmelraise the circumstance of her having seen Lord Albert D'Esterre the preceding evening at Almack's, and of his being engrossed the whole time with Lady Hamlet Vernon;—intelligence naturally productive of the most painful conclusions, and which, of course, received considerable aggravation in Lady Dunmelraise's mind from the excuses made by Lord Albert for not dining in South Audley-street on that day. She however felt that, although most painful, it was right to inform Adeline of this fresh instance of Lord Albert's unfeeling conduct, in order that she might, by so doing, lead her more and more to wean her affections from a person so unworthy as he now appeared to be, and help to destroy the remaining hopes which her daughter might otherwise retain of his returning affection.

Lady Adeline might well have thought that she had been prepared for the worst, and imagined that her cup of sorrow was filled to the brim; but at this additional circumstance she felt, that the human heart is never so full of bitterness, but that there may be added some drops of gall. Her usual serenity, however, did not wholly forsake her; but her first impulse was to entreat her mother to spare her the trial of attending the drawing-room.

"I wish," she said, "to be suffered to gain strength in retirement, and to seek for resignation, where you, my dearest mamma, have ever taught me it can alone be found. Some day or other," though she did not believe what she was saying, "some day or other, I dare say, I shall be quite happy again; only now"——But at that moment the quite happy were words too much in contrast to the quite wretched at her heart, for her lips to be able to pronounce, and in a passion of tears her feelings found relief.

Lady Dunmelraise suffered them to flow unimpeded, and when she regained composure, said, "My dearest child, I insist on nothing to which you think yourself unable; but if you can make the exertion, do so, for my sake and your own. Reflect on the humbled feelings of your mother and of yourself, if Lord Albert should ever know into what a depth of sorrow and humiliation he has plunged us both."

"Mamma, mamma, he must know that; for does he not know, has he not seen, have I not shown him a thousand times how very dear he is to me? and, after all, what should I be, if I were not humiliated by his desertion?"

"Most true, dearest, in heart; but there is a prudence and decorum to be preserved in outward seeming; a respect due to ourselves, in not displaying our feelings to the unfeeling world, who only trample upon them with unheeding carelessness, and can never appreciate their depth or value. I can well understand, my dear child, that you will be making an heroic effort, by going into public under the present suffering state of your heart; but I do ask of you to make that effort; for I know, by experience, that there is much real power gained over ourselves by assuming its appearance."

This conversation ended by Lady Adeline's promising to do every thing her mother wished for her dear sake, whom she loved with more than filial affection; and, having once given this promise, she determined to fulfil it nobly. The satisfaction which follows any sacrifice of selfish feelings to the wishes of those whom it is our duty to please is never-failing, and, under every circumstance, affords a peace which can never be obtained by their indulgence to the dereliction of principle.

But, notwithstanding all Lady Adeline's amiable qualities, and all the estimable motives of her conduct, she could not avoid the natural pangs of sorrow and anxiety, which she, in common with every human being, is doomed to experience. Come they must in some shape or other to all; happiest are those who entertain them wisely. The whole of that day, an ebb and flow of dread and doubt passed over her in alternate tides of hope or despondence;—of doubt, if Lord Albert would again call,—of dread, lest, if he did call, she should betray herself to him; yet of hope, that he might put this trial to the test,—and of despondence, as the hours passed away and no Lord Albert appeared.

Fortunately, before we are tired of sorrow, sorrow tires us, so that wearied nature finds refuge in sleep despite of itself; and this was the case of Lady Adeline, whose eyes, while yet full of tears, were closed in slumber: but it is the wakening again which is the trial; then we seem to have derived fresh power to suffer, and the sad vision of grief is presented to us with renewed vitality. Such were Lady Adeline's feelings when her maid brought to her bedside the attire and the ornaments with which she was that day to be adorned, in order to enter upon a scene of pleasure which to most young hearts is attended with so many fascinations.

"Take them all away, Mourtray," she said, "take them all away; it is not time to dress yet." And when the time did come, how many painful recollections marred every thought of pleasure! Should she see Lord Albert in the crowd? was the first question she asked herself; and if she did see him, how would he behave to her? how should she behave to him? If he were unoccupied by any one at the moment, and apparently disengaged from any interesting conversation, she thought she could go through the scene; but if he were talking to one whose name was now too well known to her, and too closely allied with the cause of her misery, she feared that neither the time nor the place would be sufficient restraints to sustain her under the trial.

"Every body," she said, looking at herself in the glass, "every body must read my story in my face. These red, red eyes, these swollen lips!"—And then she started up from her seat and cried, "No, no, it must not be thus! it is for my dearest mamma's sake I am going, and for her sake I will master my emotion, I will endeavour to assume the tranquillity which she recommends." Repeated immersion of her face in cold water, and the being told that a short half hour only remained to the time appointed by Lady Delamere for her to be at her house, restored, in some degree, the beauty of her complexion and the animation of her eyes; while the bustle of necessary haste imparted that glow to her cheeks, which, though called forth by feverish and fervid feelings, could still boast of being the delicate dye of the rose. Her dress was in itself of the simplest and most unadorned fashion; and when her jewels were presented to her by her attendant, most of which had been gifts from Lord Albert, she laid them all aside, and positively declined wearing any. The extreme luxuriance of her light, crisped hair, braided and curled in many a graceful fold, was her only decoration; except that, as she passed a myrtle (the gift of Lord Albert also), she hastily plucked a branch of it, and placed it with some care in her bosom. How deceitful is the human heart! and, above all, how deceitful is the passion of love, which conceals itself under a thousand disguises! The jewels were discarded, but the flower was chosen; that flower, which, for its emblematic associations, was ten times dearer to her, and spoke a softer language than the diamonds' blaze or the rubies' dye. Thus while denying, she cherished, love! Oh, woman, woman! you alone know the meaning of the word, its thousand concealed tendernesses, its purity of essence, its endless springs of increase!

Lady Dunmelraise, when she took leave of her daughter, pressed her to her heart, and as she blessed her with an honest pride, thought there could not be a fairer, purer being, among the glittering throng. "Be of good cheer," she said, "love, and sustain your own dignity."

When Lady Adeline arrived at her aunt's house, she had to undergo the gaze of the persons assembled to look at the dresses of those who were going to court, whose remarks, as she passed, kept alive that flutter of spirits which prevented her from indulging in softer feelings, and on the present occasion was of infinite use to her. On beholding her dress, her cousins exclaimed against the total absence of ornament or jewels; but she said, it was of no consequence, nobody would look at her; and when they all offered her various aigrettes and necklaces, she besought them not to insist on her wearing them.

"I have plenty at home," she said; but added, with a melancholy smile, "I have made a vow to wear none." Lady Delamere understood her, and thought her own loveliness stood her in good stead of any extraneous aid. At all events, she conceived it was cruel to press her further; and as time admitted of no delay, they went to their carriage through a line of persons drawn up on each side, all of whom bore testimony to Lady Adeline's beauty. They went slowly along in the splendid equipage, which, in the magnificence of old family state, attracted unusual attention; till, coming to St. James's-street, they were obliged, by the string of carriages, to continue moving on at a foot's pace. And here again the gaping crowd made no inapt observations as the glittering throng passed in array before them.

One singular-looking, fat man actually followed the carriage a considerable way, evidently in admiration of Lady Adeline; and observed to the person near him, loudly enough for her to hear what he said, "As for she, so plain-dressed like, she's the biggest beauty of 'em all," pointing at her; "but she wears all her diamonds and pearls in her eyes and mouth." The people around roared and laughed, apparently in approbation, and even Adeline smiled and blushed. By the time they arrived at the entry of Buckingham House, her cheeks were glowing, and her eyes sparkling, with an excitement which was, she acknowledged to herself, salutary at the time, though factitious and evanescent. The brilliancy of the scene too, so new to her, was not without its effect. The rich liveries of the attendants, the military, the truly British grandeur of the yeomen of the guard, the blaze of beauty, of dress, and of smiles, struck Adeline with admiration and momentary pleasure; and in her own natural way, she said to one of her cousins,

"This is a noble sight. I am glad I came. Mamma is always in the right." But then in another moment she sighed; and remembering all the circumstances that had so recently passed, the whole moving mass of feathers, flowers, and jewels, became one undistinguishable confusion, without power to charm or awaken her interest. But all this while, she was borne along on the stream of the crowd; and she heard, amid the buzz of voices, her own name, and then the observation which followed it. Women always talk of the dress of those they wish to denigrÉ, and of course Adeline's was commented upon, and found great fault with. "Quite improper, I declare!" said old Lady Honeyman to her distorted daughters, whose features, under the influence of the dancing St. Vitus, seemed to redouble their activity in honour of the shaking brilliants with which they were covered; "I declare it is quite improper to come to court as if one was in one's chemise! perfectly shocking! quite indecent! Poor thing! had she nobody belonging to her who could lend her a pair of earrings, at least?"—"What a beautiful creature!" cried another voice; (a man's, of course) "did you ever see any thing like the harmony of her features and the shape of her ear? it is quite classical; and she has none of those horrid girandoles pendent to it to spoil its form."

"Who is she?" "who is she?" went round and round in audible whispers; and the last speaker pressed onwards, somewhat careless of the convenience of his neighbours, on purpose to get another view of her.

"How people do squeeze!" said the enraged Lady Honeyman; "it is like a bear-garden. Elfrida, my love, take care of your diamond cestus: Lauretta, do not lose your ruby aigrette.—There, sir, there!—you have torn my Brussels lace lappet all to pieces with the hilt of your sword!"—And at this appeal the gentleman looked down on the little yellow dwarf with infinite dismay and many apologies; and stopping to disengage his sword from the ill-fated lappet, cast an evil eye upon the black Lauretta, who assisted to disengage the lappet, wishing her in the shrine of her namesake, where all her diamonds might receive that homage which he was only endeavouring to pay to the unadorned Adeline's genuine beauty.

At length Lady Adeline and her party reached the room in which the sovereign stood; and Lady Adeline found herself suddenly in an open space, from whence the monarch, and those persons attached to his household, could distinctly see every person separately who entered. Lady Adeline felt awed, for she had imbibed a respectful attachment to the person of her sovereign, and her young feelings were those of enthusiastic loyalty.

Lord Albert, who in his official situation had the private entrÉ, had not yet seen Lady Adeline, and at the moment she appeared in the door-way, was talking to Prince Luttermanne; when the latter, with his habitual admiration for every thing young and new, was so struck with her appearance, that he broke off his conversation, saying, "Who is that very extraordinarily beautiful girl now entering?" Lord Albert, whose back was towards her, turned suddenly round, and, on beholding her, was so overcome by a sudden revulsion of feeling, that he could not directly reply. He hesitated, his countenance changed, his lip quivered; and, after a considerable pause, he abruptly said, "Oh! that is Adeline." Prince Luttermanne looked astonished, saying at the same time, "Who the deuce is Adeline?" but Lord Albert had not waited to answer any further inquiries. He moved away round the back of the circle, to get a more distinct view of the object so unexpectedly presented to him;—an object still dearer to his heart than any other upon earth, and one whose presence, when, as thus, suddenly brought before him, was never-failing in overturning all the sophistry of art, and all the juggles and distortion of jealous passion. In the present instance she stood before him as the personification of innocence and truth.

In the midst of splendour and of beauty, her beauty shone forth in its unadorned power, and in the freshness of its morning purity, pre-eminently bright in perfect simplicity. She was not unconscious of the admiration she excited; but that very consciousness added to her charms: it deepened the roseate colour of her cheek, gave additional lustre to the tremulous sparkle of her eye, and threw over her whole air and person that veil of diffidence which imparts grace to every movement and interest to every glance. Lord Albert gazed on her with intense admiration. He thought of the time when he had looked forward to the present epoch in Lady Adeline's existence, as to one in which he should be a partaker in her triumph, and gather up the suffrages paid to her beauty as though they were so many offerings bestowed to gratify his own feelings and confirm the superiority of his own choice;—but, as it was, how differently did he feel!

She was now nothing to him, he was nothing to her; she cared not for his approbation or his censure; she knew not whether he was to be present at this her first debut in the world, or not: and then, again, a change came over his fluctuating feelings, and recalling to mind the thousand instances in which she had proved her attachment to him, the truth for a moment flashed before his fancy, and in despite of all that had lately occurred, he believed himself dear to her. How an enamoured imagination catches at trifles, and is the sport of hope or fear! Lord Albert for a moment felt the full glow of tenderness and trust float over his whole being, like a refreshing dew over a thirsty land; and as he moved along, unheeding the gay crowd that flitted past him, he sought only for the one object whom he desired to behold. He now caught a glimpse of her, and then lost it again, obscured by some feathered headdress, or some uninteresting intervening object; but, at length, he reached a spot from whence he had a full view of her, as she half knelt to kiss the sovereign's hand, and was raised again by the most graceful action; and Lord Albert had the gratification of thinking he saw an expression of gracious admiration in the sovereign, as he turned to one of the lords in waiting, evidently making some remark on Lady Adeline.

But all this while Lord Albert failed in catching her eye; and he now retraced his steps as hastily as the crowd would allow, in order to reach the door by which Lady Adeline must necessarily go out. In this attempt, however, he was disappointed, for such was the pressure and hurry of the officers to prevent a crowd in the presence-chamber, and Lady Adeline was so rapidly hurried on, that she was quickly lost to Lord Albert's view by the intervening multitude. He had not even the gratification of once catching her eye as she passed; for, added to the celerity with which she was compelled to move on after her presentation, she felt, as was natural to one so young, a degree of mingled flurry and awe, which kept her eyes fixed on the ground.

This, however, did not suggest itself to Lord Albert, and he questioned himself to ascertain whether her apparent unconsciousness of his presence was real or feigned. Notwithstanding this doubt, Lord Albert continued his pursuit of her, and was so long unsuccessful, that he began to think she must have left the Court. As he made his way with difficulty through the crowd, he heard her name frequently mentioned, and always accompanied with praises of her beauty. As expressions of this kind fell on his ear, he could not forbear feeling that it was profanation for any one to dare to speak of Lady Adeline but himself: so unjust and so monopolizing is the spirit of jealous love.

At length, Lord Albert, almost despairing of meeting with Lady Adeline by moving about, determined to fix himself at the outward door of the saloon, where he knew that she must pass in going away. Here he resolved to await the departure of the whole crowd, and, at least, ascertain the fact; but he had only taken this position a very short time, when Lady Hamlet Vernon appeared on the stairs, and nodding to Lord Albert as she descended into the great hall, approached, and took the seat which of course he relinquished to her. However much he had, of late, sought her society, and felt entangled by the spell which she knew so well to cast over him, there existed, at the present moment, a disposition to emancipate himself from the thraldom, and he felt her presence to be an intrusion. In proportion as these feelings increased, so did the restraint in his manner and conversation become more evident; and Lady Hamlet Vernon was much too penetrating, not to be aware that some strong interest directed his attention from her.

He had remained some time in this embarrassed situation, which a mutual consciousness rendered every moment more painful. Answering Lady Hamlet Vernon's questions mechanically with his lips, while his thoughts and eyes were wandering in quest of the only object he wished to see, he suddenly beheld Lady Adeline, with Lady Delamere and her cousins, at the bottom of the staircase, and was on the point of abruptly leaving Lady Hamlet Vernon's side, and darting towards her, when Lady Adeline's eyes were for a moment directed to him. A mutual glance was interchanged, as brief as it was powerful, and he felt that at least she had seen, had recognized him, and in that single glance their souls had met and felt together; but her eyes quickly dropped, she spoke hastily to Lady Delamere, and they mutually turned, as if to re-ascend the staircase. This movement, however, although its intention was evident, was so in contradiction with Lady Adeline's glance of recognition, that it did not deter Lord Albert from ardently wishing to speak to Lady Adeline; and he was hastening away, in despite of Lady Hamlet Vernon's endeavours to arrest his attention, to join the former, when a cry of "Throw open the window! water! she faints!" struck his ear. The sound came from the opposite quarter in which he was going; but when he perceived the bustle, and the crowd endeavouring to make way for some person who was ill, and whom they were trying to bring into a freer current of air, his first impulse was to stand aside also, and lend his assistance for that purpose. In doing this, he soon recognised the lady who had fainted to be Lady Glenmore, borne in the arms of Mr. Leslie Winyard; and then, with renewed interest, as the wife of his friend Lord Glenmore, he pressed forward, and succeeded in making a passage to the window, the sash of which he threw up, and partly aided in placing Lady Glenmore on a seat: he then hastened away for water and restoratives.

Every one was forward in tendering assistance to the minister's wife; and whilst many officiously stood around her, others, of better judgment and kinder intentions, went in search of Lord Glenmore.

"What a lucky fellow!" cried Lord Boileau, one of the idlers who was standing near; "what a lucky fellow that Leslie Winyard is, to have the carrying of that beautiful creature in his arms!"

"Oh! you know c'est une affaire arrangÉ," said Lord Gascoigne. "She never speaks to any one else now."

Lord Albert heard these remarks with indignation as he returned with water, and could not help casting a look at the speakers, that they well understood.

"Upon my word," observed Lord Boileau, "that man is quite insufferable. I thought he was improved since he lived amongst us; but I suppose he looks forward to rival Leslie Winyard, and will not hear the lady's fame called in question on account of any one but himself."

"Bah!" replied Lord Gascoigne; "Lady Hamlet Vernon will never suffer that."

"Is that really as people say?" asked Lord Boileau.

"Oh! quite settled long ago," answered Lord Gascoigne; "and as she is a maitresse femme, she will not allow him to forsake her quietly."

"How very beautiful, how very lovely she is, Boileau!" said Lord Baskerville, approaching at that moment; "now that she can neither talk nor laugh, she is quite charming—hem! I never knew before that she was handsome—hem! She ought to do nothing but faint—hem!"

"Yes," they both replied, "she is very lovely indeed." "I rather envy Leslie Winyard," cried Lord Boileau: "that fellow has always been lucky. But have you seen Lady Adeline Seymour, la nouveautÉ du jour? Rather raw and unfledged yet, but she will be a very fine creature a year or two hence."

"Don't you know her story?" whispered Lord Baskerville, approaching his mouth to the ear of Lord Boileau.

"No—yes—I did hear something of it. She is going to be married, isn't she?"

"She was," rejoined Lord Baskerville, looking very wise; "but, a-hem! that's all off now. I know all about it—hem! for he is so involved, hem! that marriage is impossible—hem! And really the poor girl has echappÉ belle; for I never knew such a puritanical affected—hem! I cannot conceive what the women see about him to endure him for a moment—hem!"

By this time the report of Lady Glenmore's having fainted spread through the rooms, and there were assembled around her Lady Tilney, Lady Ellersby, and the Comtesse Leinsengen.

"I do not wonder you were overcome, my dear Lady Glenmore; it was terribly hot," said Lady Tilney in her most coaxing manner. "These vile drawing-rooms are quite enough to kill one. Such a heat, and such a crowd of Heaven knows whom! And then to see whom, or what? for one never sees the ostensible object for whom one comes here. If it were not to oblige Lord Tilney, and because one must, I would never come to such a horrid place again. My dear Lady Glenmore, you who have suffered so much are, I am sure, out of all patience with the whole thing."

Lady Glenmore, who had by this time quite recovered, and who was placed very comfortably enjoying the fresh breeze that came to her unpolluted by the heat and breath of the crowd, as she sat close by the window, now resumed her accustomed smiling cheerfulness, and replied,

"Not at all, Lady Tilney; I assure you I have been much amused, and think it is a very splendid scene;—so much beauty, so much magnificence, that I was quite provoked at myself for being overcome, and unable to enjoy it; but I am perfectly well again now, and I hope another time to be more used to it."

"Quelle niaiserie!" whispered the Comtesse Leinsengen to Lord Baskerville. "She ought to go back to her nursery."

"Nothing is so tiresome," replied Lord Baskerville, "as low people who are always diverted. They must be false or fools, a-hem! after their first existence in the world—hem! our world I mean—hem! As to me, I don't care for any thing or any body, and am always bored to death here, a-hem! ar'n't you?"

"C'est selon," answered the comtesse in her most abrupt manner.

"Don't you know," cried Lady De Chere, "that there are a certain number of people who live upon getting up scenes all their life? they are always either fainting, or crying, or haranguing."

"It's very bad taste," rejoined Lord Baskerville, "at all events—hem!" At this moment Lord Glenmore came up to his wife, betraying considerable agitation, and inquiring tenderly of Lady Glenmore how she felt, and speaking to her in a low voice of earnest solicitude; to which she replied with answering affection.—Mr. Leslie Winyard moved away, affecting more displeasure than he really felt.

"What a fuss Glenmore is in! Vulgar!—hem! I cannot conceive," said Lord Baskerville, "why people should display their conjugal felicities to the world."

"The old song, I think," observed Lord Raynham, who was passing by, and overheard the remark, "gives good advice:—

"A polite inquiry, that did not enter into particulars, might perhaps have suited better the interest of all parties, than that apparently minute inspection of circumstances—eh! Baskerville?" with a sort of sneering smile—"don't you agree with me?"

"Certainly, hem! nothing is so mistaken, or argues such want of knowledge of the world, as to be affairÉ about any thing."

"To be," observed the Comtesse Leinsengen, "is one ting, to seem to be is anoder: in dat lies de savoir vivre or de no savoir. But did I not hear my carriage was up?"

"Yes, comtesse; allow me to have the honour;" and she accepted his offered arm and departed.

"D'Esterre," said Lord Glenmore, "I leave you to take care of Lady Glenmore, whilst I go in quest of our carriage; your gallantry will, I am sure, accept the charge."

Lord Albert felt really flattered, and would at any other time have been happy to have such a post assigned to him, had it not been that he feared in consequence to lose seeing Lady Adeline. This thought gave his countenance an anxious, serious air, which the men around did not fail to comment upon. But Mr. Leslie Winyard could scarcely conceal his ill-humour. The husband to cross him was bad enough, but another man, and that man Lord Albert D'Esterre, whom of all others he most disliked, was gall and bitterness to him. He approached Lady Glenmore, however, casting a look of insolence towards Lord Albert; but the serious, preoccupied demeanour of the latter prevented his even observing the impertinence intended for him.

Mr. Leslie Winyard now bent over Lady Glenmore, and whispered in her ear. She listened with rather more complacency than Lord Albert seemed to think was fitting, and she thanked Mr. Leslie Winyard for his care with somewhat more of feeling than he thought the occasion merited; but she spoke aloud, and seemed to avoid the whispered conversation which the other affected to hold.

Lord Albert, however, who was the last man in the world to play the mean part of a spy over the actions of any one, felt his situation sufficiently awkward; and considering that his every wish was on the wing after Lady Adeline, it became every instant more painful. He almost determined on leaving Lady Glenmore; but then he thought Lord Glenmore would naturally feel hurt at his doing so. Whilst weighing this matter with himself, Lord Glenmore returned, announcing the carriage to be at hand.

"D'Esterre, have the goodness to give your arm to Lady Glenmore on one side, and I will take care of her on the other, and then we shall be able, Georgina, to take you through the crowd without your suffering any inconvenience." Mr. Leslie Winyard bit his lip with mortification, and Lord Boileau said to him, with some degree of sarcasm,

"Really, Winyard, I think you are ill used; after your services, to see another preferred before you."

"Oh! c'est la fortune de la guerre," he replied, with an air of affected triumph; "but as for preference, reste À savoir."

"Upon my word, Winyard's coolness is admirable," said Lord Gascoigne, "and I would bet an even hundred that he is right. Georgina, as he calls her, I dare say understands a thing or two by this time, and knows how to hoodwink Glenmore." No sooner had Lord Albert handed Lady Glenmore into her carriage, than he returned swiftly, with a faint, sickening hope that he might not yet be too late to catch at least one precious look more of Adeline; nor was he disappointed, for he met her suddenly, standing near the door with her party. Addressing Lady Delamere with an empressement of manner, and an intonation of voice, that spoke the temper of his soul, his eyes fixed upon Lady Adeline's, he scarcely knew what it was he said to Lady Delamere, till the extreme coldness of the latter, and her marked asperity of reply, checked the flow of his feelings, and he remained mute and abashed, when the silver sound of Lady Adeline's voice, inquiring for Lady Glenmore, re-animated him.

"The heat was overpowering," she observed, "and she could not be surprised that any one had fainted; she herself had suffered from it."

Lord Albert made some answer, expressive of concern for her; and gazing at her with unrepressed tenderness, he remarked the myrtle sprig in her breast; for it was associated in his mind with some recollections that made it, in his estimation, an object of infinite interest. At that instant it dropped on the ground. He stooped to recover it hastily; and as he half tendered to restore it to her, said, "Its freshness was surprising, considering the atmosphere it had been in for so many hours; yet not so, neither," he added, "when I remember where it has been placed: but it is not worthy of such felicity. Allow me to retain it, for I, at least, can envy and appreciate its happy fate." A glow of lustrous joy illumined Lady Adeline's countenance; and if before the agitation of doubt and sorrow had shook her frame, an emotion not less intense, though proceeding from feelings the very opposite, now affected her.

Her emotion could not escape Lord Albert's observation, nor could he mistake its cause. With all the warmth of renewed and genuine affection, he again whispered to her,

"Adeline, will you be at home to-night if I come?"

Before she could reply, Lady Delamere's carriage was called. She turned rather abruptly to Lady Adeline, saying, "Adeline, come; the carriage waits;" and at the same instant Mr. Foley, who had been in quest of it, joined them, as though in much haste.

"If you delay an instant, Lady Delamere," he said, "your carriage must drive off, and then it is difficult to tell when you may get away."

"Adeline," cried Lady Delamere, speaking authoritatively, "take Mr. Foley's arm." And at the same time courtesying coldly to Lord Albert, she showed him his attendance was not desired, and hurried after her niece and daughters; for Lady Adeline, confused and agitated, had only time to cast a look at Lord Albert, and was in a manner obliged to suffer herself to be led away by Mr. Foley.

Lord Albert stood for a moment like a statue: the sprig of myrtle, however, was in his hand, or he might have fancied he had dreamed the scene, so quickly had it passed. "What can this mean?" he said to himself, lingering on the spot where Lady Adeline had parted from him, quite unconscious of the crowd that passed by him in all directions. But where is one more alone than in a crowd? His reverie, however, was speedily broken in upon by hearing Lady Hamlet Vernon's name loudly called; and the next instant, as she was passing, unattended, to go out, she said to him:

"Do, Lord Albert, be so obliging as to give me your arm." In common courtesy he complied; but it was mechanically, and like the action of one in a dream. "You had better let me set you down, Lord Albert, if your carriage is not up, or you will never get away." An anxious wish to leave a scene in which he had now no interest, induced him to avail himself of the proposal. He leaped in after her, and they drove rapidly away. He said something expressive of thanks to her, of the crowd, of the heat, of Lady Glenmore; and this brought them to Cleveland-row, when their progress was stopped, and the clatter of horses, and the crash of carriages, and the screams of women, and the oaths of servants, resounded in all directions. Lord Albert hastily looked out, and saw Lady Delamere's equipage, which had been forced out of the line among other carriages, and, in order to disentangle itself, was backing so as to come immediately parallel with Lady Hamlet Vernon's. He was grateful to think it was not in any present danger at least; but in lowering the glass and looking out to see what had occasioned the disturbance, he had forgotten and left the myrtle sprig on the seat of the carriage, and did not remark, in reseating himself, that Lady Hamlet Vernon had taken it up and was holding it in her hand, so absorbed was he in anxiety for Lady Adeline's possible danger.

Lady Delamere's carriage was by this time in contact with that of Lady Hamlet Vernon's. Lord Albert was just about to put his head again out of the window, to assure the former there was no danger, when he saw Lady Adeline lean back suddenly in the carriage, and at the same instant one of her cousins, as he thought, by her desire quickly drew up the window, evidently to prevent all communication. Lord Albert could not mistake this action. It perplexed and wholly overthrew all his presence of mind; and under the painful pressure of contending feelings he made some brief excuse to Lady Hamlet Vernon, of endeavouring to see if the carriage could be extricated, and opening the door he darted out, without any thought but that of yielding to the impulse of his feelings, and proceeded home in a state of distraction.