The allusion made by Lord Albert D'Esterre on the preceding evening to the fÊte at Avington Park, his excuses and explanations on the subject of the ticket, together with Lady Dunmelraise's doubtful mode of receiving them, were circumstances not lost on Mr. Foley; and the hope that he might not only please Lady Adeline by the attention, but also, in the event of his success, tacitly throw suspicion on Lord Albert's sincerity, determined him on endeavouring to procure her, himself, a ticket for the fÊte.

Consequently, at an early hour the following morning, he sought Lady Hamlet Vernon, to request her assistance in the accomplishment of his wishes. The latter possessed too much penetration not to see, in Mr. Foley's anxiety, an elucidation of the disquiet and uneasiness betrayed by Lord Albert D'Esterre when the subject of the breakfast had been accidentally alluded to at Lady Glenmore's by Lord Raynham; and imagined that she perceived, at once, a point where her own wishes might be advanced, at the same time that she appeared attending only to those of the friend who now applied to her. If it was clear to Lady Hamlet Vernon that some misunderstanding, some unpleasant feeling, had existed in Lord Albert's mind, connected with the subject, no better or surer index of it could be found, than in the eager and pressing solicitude displayed on the same point by the person whom she had herself principally influenced in the attempt to become his rival; and to procure the ticket so much wished for (if a possibility of doing so remained) was therefore the immediate conclusion in Lady Hamlet Vernon's mind.

In individuals similarly constituted, an explanation of sentiment, or even of design, is not always requisite; an intuitive principle seems to guide to the same point, and directs them generally to the use of the same means; and no interpretation of his wishes was necessary on the part of Mr. Foley, in the present instance, to ensure him the earnest co-operation of Lady Hamlet Vernon. The conversation which had passed on a former occasion between them, on the subject of Lord Albert D'Esterre's engagement with Lady Adeline, and the result hinted at of Mr. Foley's probable success, if disposed to hazard his suit, was alone sufficient to produce an understanding throughout all future manoeuvres in the proceeding, and without a word passing to that effect: therefore, on the occasion in question, Mr. Foley felt that he left his application in Lady Hamlet Vernon's hands with a well-founded assurance of its accomplishment, as far, at least, as her exertions could promote such an issue.

In a few hours the ticket was procured and transmitted. On receiving it, Mr. Foley proceeded, with a feeling approaching to triumph, to South Audley-street; and in presenting it to Lady Dunmelraise, said something about his happiness in offering what he thought would be agreeable to Lady Adeline, and his hope that some other opportunity would afford itself of proving that her wishes were always laws to him; at the same time, to enhance his air of importance, throwing out hints (as if carelessly) respecting the small number of persons who were to constitute the fÊte, and the peculiarities attending its management, all which insinuated the distinction attached to such as were amongst the priÈes. Lady Dunmelraise looked expressively at her daughter, as she held the ticket in her hand; as though she would have said, Lord Albert could not procure one; and Lady Adeline, who had sat like a statue, not daring to trust herself to speak, lest she should betray her feelings, now felt this silent appeal too much for endurance, and sought her chamber, there to indulge in an unrepressed burst of sorrow. "Yes," she cried, in broken utterance, as sobs choked her voice; "yes, he is faithless, perfidious, and I—I am wretched."

While Lady Adeline gave way to this natural transport of wounded feeling, her mother guessed too well what her poor child was suffering, and though she suffered with her, yet she could, in the comparative calmness of her regret, consider how it was best to act; and Lady Dunmelraise determined on the propriety and expediency of Adeline going to the breakfast. She therefore continued to converse with Mr. Foley, in order to settle all the necessary arrangements, saying,

"But by whom is Adeline to be chaperoned? There do not seem to be many of our acquaintance going, unless, indeed, Lady Borrowdaile, Lady Aveling, or Lady Feuillemorte; yet she would, I think, prefer Lady Aveling."

"Pardon me," rejoined Mr. Foley; "none of those ladies are invited."

"Indeed! you astonish me! But the Duchess D'Hermanton; she, at least, cannot be left out?"

"Her grace's name, I know, is not on the list," replied Mr. Foley.

"That is astonishing! Which of the nobility, then, now in London, are to be of this party?"

"Those," answered Mr. Foley, "who are of the scelta."

"And pray who are those?" He named the Boileaus, De Cheres, Tenderdens, Tilneys, Leinsengens, &c. &c. Lady Dunmelraise smiled, and then looked rather grave.

"This would be laughable," she said, "if it were not melancholy to think, that people can suffer themselves to be so led away by a love of false distinction, as to attempt to set aside all that is truly good and great, and to impose laws and rules upon society, whose general tendency cannot be productive of any real advantage, but the reverse." Mr. Foley affected to agree with her in part, but said, "There was always, at all times, something of the same sort existing. It was a species of excrescence," he said, "which grew out of the plethora of the London world. It might be dangerous for some; but for Lady Adeline—he conceived she might look at its folly, and effleurÉ the charm of its novelty and splendour, without the least danger."

"It is from this persuasion," rejoined Lady Dunmelraise, "that I can augur no harm in her attending the breakfast, although I should be sorry to see her always forming a component part of such a society. But whom can she accompany on the present occasion? Is Lady Louisa Blithewaite going?"

"She is: as a sister of the Duke of Mercington's, she has been admitted."

"That will do," said Lady Dunmelraise. "She is the very person under whose care I should like my Adeline to be placed. I will write to her directly." Mr. Foley, who began to fear that after all he should not carry his point, was now delighted; and he took leave of Lady Dunmelraise, well pleased with the prospect of his success. When Lady Dunmelraise had despatched her note to Lady Louisa Blithewaite, she sought Lady Adeline in her chamber, whom she found in some measure calm and composed.

"You see how it is, my dearest child; but your painful task will soon be over, I trust. It is suspense only that is not to be borne, since it prevents the mind from resting on any one point, or coming to any conclusion; and it is for this very reason, my loved Adeline, that I wish you to summon resolution and attend the breakfast. It is right Lord Albert should know that we are aware of the idle subterfuge he wished to palm upon our belief; and it is well, too, for your future peace, that you should so convince yourself of his dereliction of all honourable principle, that you will not in any after-moment fancy that you have forfeited all happiness in losing him." By these and similar reasonings and persuasions, Lady Dunmelraise convinced her daughter that she ought to comply with her wishes, and prepare to meet this painful trial. Having, therefore, given way to the infirmity of human weakness only so far as that indulgence was necessary to a recovery of self-management, Lady Adeline rallied her powers of mental control; and with that steady serenity and determination of character which proceeds from one only source, and which bears up those who act upon its influence through all the storms of life, she acceded to whatever Lady Dunmelraise required of her.

In the course of that day, Lord Albert called in South Audley-street; but neither Lady Adeline nor her mother were at home. In the distempered state of his mind, he thought he had been denied, and in this idea he was almost confirmed by seeing Mr. Foley leave the house a few moments after he had ridden from the door; though, in fact, this was not the case, the latter having merely gone into the drawing-room a short time before Lord Albert called, to leave a note explanatory of some points respecting the hour of going to the fÊte, &c. &c. and which Lady Dunmelraise had requested him to ascertain. The effect, however, produced upon Lord Albert's imagination was the same as if the fact had been so; and in this effervescence of mind he directed his horse's head, with a feeling of something like habit, towards Lady Hamlet Vernon's.

When the heart is bruised, and the understanding perplexed, it is astonishing to think how the strongest minds turn to lean on some one being whom they deem willing to soothe and share in their feelings; and if it is a weakness, it is one so linked to all the best parts of our nature, that there would be no advantage gained by exchanging it for that cold hardness of self-sufficiency, to which some persons lay claim as affording them a superiority over their fellow-creatures. Such was certainly not Lord Albert's case. Whatever he might or might not confess to himself, it was with a worn-out spirit that he sought Lady Hamlet Vernon; and on hearing that she was at home, he threw himself off his horse, and hastened into her presence. Although she was too well skilled in reading the human heart, not to be aware that she owed this visit rather to his displeasure in other quarters, than from a spontaneous wish to enjoy her society, yet she received him, as she always did, with those gentle smiles which captivate the heart, and which is the temper ever sought for and expected in woman.

Lady Hamlet Vernon knew that the general selfishness of man seeks only the reflection of his own sensations from the sympathy of women; and that whatever cause a woman may have of pain or pleasure, it is his feelings, and not her own, which she must consult, soothe, and influence; and that, in short, when she ceases to be his sunshine, he ceases to court her influence.

It was acting under this conviction, which made Lady Hamlet Vernon, with infallible delicacy and truth of tact, neither seem to search into secrets which Lord Albert did not choose to reveal, nor yet appear carelessly ignorant of the melancholy restlessness by which she saw him affected; but alternately she soothed, flattered, and sympathized in all he said, till at last she succeeded, for the time being, in reconciling him with himself, and in a great measure allaying the irritation of those various feelings which almost distracted him when he first entered her apartment.

Before he took his leave, it was finally arranged between them, that he should accompany her to the fÊte the next day, if he could leave Downing-street in time; and if he could not, he would, he said, meet her at Avington Park, and go there with Lord Glenmore, who, in the event of his being detained, would be detained also.

While thus variously agitated had been the feelings of some, whose hearts, by circumstances, had become interested in this idle fÊte, the principal movers in it, in their way, were not less anxious for its success and brilliancy. For the preservation of its exclusive and chosen character, and the arrangement of all its endless detail of luxury, each member of the sociÉtÉ choisie was more or less busy and affairÉ. Lady Tilney, with her usual activity, was the first in her exertions; driving to the houses of all connected with the arrangements, examining into every minute particular, and, above all, guarding against the possibility of any persons whose name was not on her list creeping in through the weakness of some member of the committee, who, in a moment of unallowed natural feeling, might have invited a sister, or a mother, or a brother, who were from a class without the pale.

At Lady Ellersby's she met Lady Tenderden, and the Countess Leinsengen, and Lady De Chere, and Lord Boileau, who came in, as though by chance, one after the other, each saying, in different words, the same thing.

"How fortunate I am to have met you! I wished to know at what hour you are to go to Avington Park to-morrow;" and all applied to Lady Tilney. She named three o'clock.

"La!" cried Lady Ellersby, "I shall not have awoke from my first sleep at that hour: surely four o'clock is quite time enough."

"I shall not go till den," cried the Comtesse Leinsengen. "One has always enough of dose tings dat last for ever. Breakfast, dinner, supper, and den breakfast again, before one gets away."

"Oh! but you know," replied Lady Tenderden, "dis fÊte, my dear comtesse, is not like any other; dere will be no one dere but ourselves, our own sociÉtÉ; and dere are so many pleasant tings to be done,—going on de water, walking about, and de loterie; one would not choose to lose dat."

"Oh! certainly not," exclaimed Lady Boileau. "I am told there are to be some exceedingly magnificent things. Lord Albert D'Esterre has bought some really fine jewels."

"Perhaps so," said Lady De Chere in her blunt way; "but we all know who will have these: the chances are wisely ordained beforehand."

"Have you got your billet de loterie?" asked the Comtesse Leinsengen of the speaker.

"No," replied Lady De Chere with an air of pique, "but I am to have one."

"Certainly," rejoined Lady Tilney, who read the Comtesse's intended triumph; and who chose to show her, on many occasions, that if any one had a right to tyrannize it was herself, or that at least, if such a thing were attempted, it should be À qui mieux mieux.

"Certainly, Lady Boileau, there will be a lottery ticket for you, and all the other ladies; at least, I shall conceive it exceedingly wrong indeed if there is not. But should there be any mistake, depend upon my rectifying it. And now, ladies," she continued, addressing them generally, "there is one point we have not touched upon—our costume."

"Oh! demi-toilette, of course," exclaimed Lady Tenderden.

"Of course," echoed Lady Tilney, afraid lest it should be thought that she had asked the question with a view to arrange her own dress according to her friends' dictation: "but I meant, should we have a change of dress for the evening?"

"Oh! what a trouble!" said Lady Ellersby.

"Yes, my dear; but you know, after walking about all day, our dress will not look fresh for the evening," said Lady Boileau. "However, I am told, that among other galanteries our cavaliers have engaged a certain number of milliners, to be in attendance with every kind of decoration, so that we need think little on that point."

"No, really!" cried Lady Ellersby, with something more than her usual animation: "that is well imagined."

"And I will tell you," said Lady Tenderden, "what is the prettiest ting of all, de best imagined possible,—every lady is to have her cipher formed of her chosen flower. As to me, I shall be like Louis de Fourteenth's favourite, and am to have un salon tout tapissÉ de jonquilles. After all is said, dere is nobody but the French dat know what it is to be gallant. And now, mes chÈres dames, I must depart. If any thing occurs, any change takes place, you will let me know. You have all settled your parties for going, of course: mine has been long arranged wid de Glenmores and Mr. Leslie Winyard. Adieu, adieu!"

"Of course," said the Comtesse Leinsengen: "mi ladi need not to have taken de pains to inform us on dat subject."

"I think," said Lady Tilney, "considering that this party is made expressly by us, and is quite a thing apart, that she might have passed over for once her tiresome preference of every thing French. But she is always making out that it is the French alone who do every thing in perfection; and that is exceedingly impolite, to say the least of it."

"Very true," added Lady De Chere; "and considering that she is what she is by having married an Englishman, c'est un peu fort."

"But," said Lady Tilney, breaking abruptly off, "I must say adieu. ChÈre Lady Ellersby, adieu! Remember! three o'clock, at the latest, to-morrow. And we positively can allow no more tickets. No persuasions or entreaties must be suffered to prevail. The affair is finished. I have put my veto on the D'Hermanton," she added, turning round as she approached the door: "that would have been too much."

"I wonder," said Lady Ellersby, as Lady Tilney left the room, "that she is not dead with fatigue. Surely never any body did so much."

"To so little purpose," said the Comtesse Leinsengen sharply; "for, after all, de public of your nation are a great deal too revÊche to let any one person lead dem about À droite et À gauche. Much better it is to cut de matter short, to have one's own sociÉtÉ, and never care what any body says or does or tinks. Please oneself one's own way, dat is de true liberty. But dat ladi has so many fire-irons all going at once, some of dem must fail, and den she is out of humour."

There was a general smile at what the comtesse had said; and they all enjoyed hearing Lady Tilney found fault with, though no one exactly chose to be the person who should hazard such an opinion.

"Ah! comtesse," observed Lady Boileau, "you are the most amusing person in the world."

"Seulement parce que je suis la plus franche," she replied; and kissing her hand to Lady Ellersby, glided out of the room.

"If she had said brusque, instead of franche," cried Lady De Chere, "she would have been nearer the truth."

"Eh, eh, eh!" laughed Lady Ellersby, as she observed, "Perhaps so; but it is like smelling salts to hear her remarks; and really I do not know what I should do without something pungent now and then to keep me awake."

"Besides," rejoined Lady Boileau, "we have all our own particular meanings for particular phrases; and Comtesse Leinsengen is not the only person who gives her own meaning to a phrase which, in its general acceptation, is of quite a different import. Don't you agree with me, Lady De Chere?"

"May be so. But in as far as regards myself, I always mean what I say, though I do not say always all that I mean. But we are quite philosophical, and I have no time for disquisitions; so, fair ladies, good day, and may to-morrow be propitious for hats, caps, and falbalas. In that we are all agreed. Farewell!" And she departed.

"My dear Lady Ellersby," said Lady Boileau, approaching her in a voice of earnest entreaty, "do not let Lady Tilney forget my lottery-ticket; for, after all, you know, one likes to have a chance of the fine things."

"Oh yes! ONE does. I will not forget. Trust to me."

"You are always so good-humoured! Adieu, then, till to-morrow! I know you will not forget me."

"Not if you can prevent it," said Lady Ellersby to herself, as she closed the door, and rose to ring her bell. "Send Fanchon to me." And when Fanchon, the maid, obeyed the summons, her mistress said, "I am half dead with the clamour of those dear friends of mine. Put my roquelaure over me, and let me sleep. See that I be not disturbed. How loud they did all talk!"