Every one has felt, some time or other, that when the first warmth of indignation against a loved object begins to cool, the recollection of a thousand tender reminiscences comes floating in to soften and subdue resentment; and that many an ebb and flow of fondness must take place before the deep trace of love is washed from our remembrance. Thus it was with Lady Adeline: there was a lurking weakness in her heart (if the tenacity of true love can he called a weakness), which made her loath to cast Lord Albert thence, even if he were guilty, for the moment, of deserting her.

Even in that case she thought he might be reclaimed. It was difficult, it was impossible, to fathom the heart: who had a right to do so? and with these thoughts she condemned herself as wrong and precipitate in her judgment. The best, she conceived, that remained for her to do, under her present painful circumstances, would be to retire to the country, and await there the issue of his determination; but not to brave him. Under the impression of these feelings, she lamented having yielded her consent to be present at the breakfast.

"If I am to see him there," she exclaimed inwardly, "devoted to another, what good end will it answer thus to add anguish to anguish? And, at all events, Albert will think better of me if I avoid his presence, and, by so doing, show how much I feel, and how little I am desirous of prying into his conduct."

Lady Dunmelraise soon saw that such were the feelings of her daughter, when, in the course of the day, a recurrence was made to the subject of the breakfast; and it was with pleasure that she received a visit from her sister, Lady Delamere, in the evening, from the hope that her persuasions, joined to those which she had already availed herself of, might have additional weight with Lady Adeline.

Many concurring circumstances had led both Lady Dunmelraise and Lady Delamere to the conviction that Lord Albert was wholly undeserving of such a treasure, and induced the suspicion that he perhaps enjoyed the consciousness of being beloved by her daughter, while, at the same time, he played with her feelings, and sacrificed them remorselessly at the shrine of his own vanity. To impress their opinions upon her Adeline's mind, Lady Dunmelraise conceived to be absolutely necessary, with a view to wean her from her strong attachment: and so convinced was she of the necessity of this measure, in order to restore Lady Adeline to any thing like happiness, that much as it pained Lady Dunmelraise to make her herself the witness of Lord Albert's desertion and insincerity, yet she felt convinced that to do so would be at once the kindest and most effectual measure.

In this she was confirmed by Lady Delamere; and with all the persuasion of affection, and all the force of truth, they both represented the matter in so strong a light to Lady Adeline, that she yielded her feelings to their direction, saying,

"Well, dearest mamma and dearest aunt, make of me what you will, do with me as you choose; but remember I am a poor automaton that can no longer act or think for itself. I feel crushed, withered, wretched, unable to do any thing but yield a passive obedience. In that I know I am fulfilling my duty; and if I live, that thought must bring peace in its train."

"If you live!" exclaimed Lady Dunmelraise, shuddering, as she looked earnestly at her altered countenance. "Dearest child! talk not thus:" and as she pressed her to her breast, she felt that she must evermore consider Lord Albert as the destroyer of her child's happiness. At an early hour that evening, Lady Adeline retired to rest; and worn out with the agitation of the day, yet calmed by the secret sense of satisfaction which a fulfilment of duty and obedience to a loved and loving parent never fails to produce, she fell into that sweet, child-like sleep of innocence which is the balm of peace.

The morning came in lowering, and a few heavy drops of rain seemed to announce the impending overthrow of the splendour of the fÊte; but about midday the dark clouds broke away, and the sun came out clear and bright, giving assurance of fair weather. By three o'clock, the park, and the squares and streets in its immediate vicinity, presented a gay sight in the splendid equipages that were waiting at the doors, or driving to the destined scene of the rendezvous. Lady Adeline had suffered herself to be attired in the dress her mother had prepared for her, which was well adapted for the hour and scene, and at once splendid, yet chastely beautiful: and as something of the natural weakness of youth and vanity found a brief place even in the breast of the ingenuous Adeline, a consciousness of her charms stole over her, as she cast a rapid glance at her person reflected in her mirror, and she thought with a feeling of something like renovated hope and pleasure; "He may not deem me so beneath his attention." And then again a quick return of reflection made her sigh; remembering how valueless the affection is, how undeserving the name, which depends alone on personal charms. But still a secret hope remained, that if she could once again attract his regards, she might find the way to retain them on a sure foundation.

As this hope, in despite of reason, took possession of her heart, it tinged her cheek with a brighter hue, and gave an animation to her whole appearance which even deceived those who loved her most. There was a feeling of exultation in Lady Dunmelraise's breast, as she gazed delightedly on this dear object of her solicitude; for conscious that the gem within was as precious as the fair casket in which it was enshrined, she thought that Lord Albert little knew his own true interests in exchanging such a pearl of price for common merchandise; and she was right.

When Lady Adeline arrived at Lady Louisa Blithewaite's, she found a party assembled there, amongst whom were the Duke of Mercington and Mr. Foley. The former was exceedingly struck with her appearance, and manifested his admiration in a way not to be overlooked or misunderstood, at the same time with all that delicacy which was due to the person by whom it was excited. Lady Louisa Blithewaite received her with marks of the greatest interest; and relieved the embarrassment she felt on perceiving herself the object of general remark, by entering immediately into discourse with her on various subjects connected with the immediate object of their meeting.

As soon as the first awkwardness was passed, Lady Adeline recovered her presence of mind, and joined in the conversation with that natural yet cultivated understanding which is felt in touching on the most trivial topics, as well as in discussing the most serious ones, and never fails to win admiration and respect. Mr. Foley hovered around her, sometimes leaning on the back of her chair, and affecting to speak to her with the familiarity of intimacy; alluding to times and circumstances of which the present company were ignorant, and endeavouring, by this conduct, to wear the appearance of being an attachÉ of Lady Adeline's. But as she did not share in this intention, and her conversation being directed equally to the different persons around, his attempt was a failure.

It was impossible, at the present moment, but that Lady Adeline's mind should be taken off from herself; and the bustle of arranging how the parties should go, together with the constant and varied homage she received from all present, but particularly from the Duke of Mercington, which could not fail of being for the time gratifying, all combined to produce that species of excitement which diffused an animation and lustre over her features and manners altogether magical.

After much disquisition, it was finally arranged, that the Duke of Mercington should accompany his sister and Lady Adeline in the same carriage; and Mr. Foley, with evident mortification, was obliged to attend another party. Nobody knew better than the duke how to render himself agreeable when he chose it. There was a bland sunshine on his countenance, and a kindness in his manner, which was a key to all hearts; and on the present occasion he felt irresistibly impelled to endeavour to please. Every word Lady Adeline spoke during the drive, though her words were not many, and not directed to any subject on which the stronger qualities of her mind could be called into exercise, had yet so much originality in them, from that perfect nature, unobscured by the factitious ways of the world, which makes even the most trite and common things appear in a new light, that the duke whispered to his sister, when they arrived at Avington Priory, "She is perfection. I never met with such grace of mind."

On entering the gay, enchanted scene of the breakfast, all eyes were directed towards Lady Adeline; and as the duke walked between her and his sister, the envious whisper ran round, "Who is she? Who invited her? How very odd she should be here!" but none durst openly find fault with one whom the Duke of Mercington protected and countenanced. Lord Gascoigne observed, as they walked in,

"So at last he is caught," to which Lord Baskerville maliciously replied, "He may be caught—hem! but there are two words to that bargain—a-hem! For my part, I would rather be the cobbler at the corner of the street, who knows his stall's his own, than be in the questionable position of any man, however great. I do not envy him—hem!"

Mr. Foley continued to take every opportunity of affecting intimacy with Lady Adeline; addressing her at every moment, asking her opinion of the fÊte, of the arrangement, of the scene; and then passed to observations upon the superior beauty of Dunmelraise, and the happiness of riding with her about that wild scenery: to all of which she replied naturally, saying,

"They were perfectly different, and admitted of no comparison."

In this manner he endeavoured to create an appearance of greater intimacy than belonged to common acquaintance; and then requested her, if disengaged, to dance the first cotillon with him.

To this she agreed. But, in the meantime, the Duke of Mercington, who had, with one of his engouements, selected Lady Adeline as his favourite of the day, and therefore considered every other person's approach an intrusion, being annoyed by Mr. Foley's constant interruption of the conversation, proposed to his sister and Lady Adeline, and their party, to go on the water. Although the duke could not without positive rudeness exclude Mr. Foley as they entered the boat, yet, by taking a seat on one side of Lady Adeline, and placing his sister on the left, he secured something like a conversation suivie, which he could not otherwise have done.

As they were embarking, the same junto of young men who had made their remarks on the duke's party when he entered, now stood by the lake; for the same system observed in Hyde Park, of arranging themselves in line wherever there were women, in order, as Leslie Winyard said, pour se laisser admirer, was adhered to on the present occasion. "His grace," said Lord Baskerville, "seems to be really Épris, and to be meditating matrimony."

"Who is she?" again questioned Lord Gascoigne. "She must be something quite new, for I never saw her before."

"Oh! she, you know," replied Lord Baskerville, who always affected to know every body's story, "she is the girl that Lord Albert D'Esterre was said to be engaged to, but who broke off the engagement from some reason or other; probably because she had no intention of marrying a field-preacher."

"It would have been a confounded pity if she had," growled Lord Tonnerre. "She is a very beautiful creature. I should not care if I married her myself."

"How very gallant you are become, Tonnerre," said Lord Boileau. "But, Baskerville, you forget, in passing sentence on Lord Albert, that he is become one of us, has cast his slough, and come out with a new skin."

"Yes," replied Lord Gascoigne, "thanks to Lady Hamlet Vernon, he has found out que le diable n'est pas si noir."

"I don't care," said Lord Baskerville, "what he has found out; but I have found out that he is very disagreeable, and I never wish to have him in my society—hem!"

"Pardon me," said Lord Gascoigne, "I think you are too severe to-day, Basky. The man is well enough; mighty polite; makes a good bow; and is well received by the ladies."

"Upon my word," observed Lord Tonnerre, "the women, now-a-days, are all gone mad, I think, upon my word. I'd keep those under my care, at least, in good order. One must have a tight hand upon the best of them." At that moment, Lady Tenderden and Lady Glenmore arrived, escorted by Mr. Leslie Winyard and two or three other young men. Every body crowded round Lady Glenmore to pay her their court; hoped she admired the fÊte and the decorations: to all which she replied in the affirmative with childish gaiety and delight.

"But you have not seen the bower, the beautiful bower," said Lord Gascoigne; "allow me to conduct you thither."

"Oh! but first come and see my alcove tout tapissÉ de jonquilles;" and they passed on, Lady Glenmore continuing to lean on Mr. Leslie Winyard's arm, and tacitly rejecting the offer of Lord Gascoigne, in that hurry of pleasure which leaves no capability for real enjoyment.

"Well," said Lord Baskerville, looking after Lady Glenmore, "I am of the same opinion still. There is a sort of rude health and vulgar jollity about that Lady Glenmore, hem! which she will never get rid of. I wonder how Leslie Winyard can waste his time in that quarter."

"He does not waste it, I can assure you," said Lord Boileau significantly. "Remind me, Basky, to tell you a good story, of the truth of which I myself am a witness. It happened on the night of la petite Georgina's party. I never looked so foolish in my life. I shall never forget it."

"But the odd thing is," interrupted Lord Gascoigne, "that Glenmore, who set out by being the most tenacious husband imaginable, is as quiet as a mouse about it. How can you account for this, Tonnerre? Do you think apathy is one of the fruits of marriage?"

"Why do you ask me the question, who have never tried? But this I am certain of; I would keep my wife in order, if I were married to-morrow. You had better ask Glenmore himself."

"So I will," said Lord Gascoigne, turning on his heel. "I will go look for him for the purpose."

"What a cool hand Gascoigne is!" observed Lord Boileau, addressing Lord Baskerville. "I would give the world to be like him."

"It might suit you."

"Ehew!" replied the latter, "but it wouldn't me;" and he walked slowly away to join the Comtesse Leinsengen.

It was by this time pretty late in the afternoon, and the various persons were beginning to draw together with a view to making up their dinner coteries. Lord Albert and Lord Glenmore had been prevented, as they anticipated they should, from setting out early by business. The former had in consequence despatched a note to Lady Hamlet Vernon, to let her know of his being detained beyond the hour she had named for going to Avington Priory, but saying he would join her there; and this had determined her to excuse herself from accompanying Lady Glenmore's party, with whom she was to have gone; for, well aware of all the circumstances attendant on Lady Adeline's being present at the breakfast, she was particularly anxious to appear there herself accompanied by Lord Albert D'Esterre.

Lady Hamlet Vernon, therefore, ordered her carriage a short time before the hour named by Lord Albert for his departure; and having driven slowly towards Avington Priory, she calculated the time so exactly, that Lord Glenmore and Lord Albert overtook her on the road. They kissed their hands to her as they passed, and she thought that Lord Albert looked pleased in the idea that she might have waited for him. Their carriages entered the gates of the Priory together; and having alighted, Lady Hamlet Vernon took the offered arms of Lord Albert and Lord Glenmore, and they proceeded in quest of Lady Glenmore and her party, making inquiries, as they went, of every one if they had seen her. Some said she was here, some there; and Lord Gascoigne, who now approached, observed, that he had seen her last with Lady Tenderden, Leslie Winyard, Raynham, Frank Ombre, &c. going towards Rosamond's Bower. "But," continued he, "if one really wants to find any body in a crowd, the way is, to sit down in one place. My advice, therefore, is tranquilly to await their repassing; and you will have time enough to see the lions afterwards." As he concluded this speech, he turned round to Spencer Newcombe, and whispered in his ear, "I think Winyard owes me one for this."

"Oh! a hundred, I should say; for

Lady Hamlet Vernon, however, on this occasion, rather wished to see than be seen, and deemed it more agreeable to walk about leaning upon Lord Albert D'Esterre's arm, and therefore replied, "I have not patience to sit still; let us rather have the amusement of looking for Lady Glenmore;" and as she spoke, they moved on.

"That affair goes on well," remarked Lord Gascoigne, as his eye followed Lord Albert and Lady Hamlet Vernon.

"Yes," said Mr. Spencer Newcombe, "she is a clever woman; elle pique ses attachÉs. I give her credit for having angled so dexterously. A little while, and D'Esterre will be well landed."

While these persons thus passed their kindly comments, Lord Albert, Lord Glenmore, and Lady Hamlet Vernon walked about the gardens, and after a search of some time found Lady Tenderden, Lady Glenmore, and their party, who were laughing and talking gaily in the alcove tapissÉ de jonquilles. Mr. Leslie Winyard was playing with one of the long ribands that pended from Lady Glenmore's hat, and she seemed listening complacently to his conversation. The moment, however, that she beheld Lord Glenmore, she darted towards him, her face beaming with pleasure, and passing her arm through his, and looking up fondly in his face, said something in a low voice, to which he replied with answering tenderness; and as she continued to hang upon his arm, expressing her admiration of the fÊte, he appeared to enter into her delight, and to be as much amused as herself.

"What perfection of duplicity!" whispered Lord Boileau to Lord Tonnerre, as they entered the alcove together, and witnessed this meeting.

"And what a wide swallow he has," replied the other; while Mr. Leslie Winyard, mortified at the interruption which Lord Glenmore's arrival had occasioned, but at the same time too much master of his art to evince his real feeling, endeavoured to show himself satisfied with the semblance of a secret understanding between himself and Lady Glenmore as to her conduct towards her husband.

"What perfection of duplicity!" repeated Lord Boileau, as he observed what passed, and as Mr. Winyard, approaching Lord Glenmore, addressed him in easy, familiar terms, making himself appear to be, as in all similar cases, and selon tous les rÈgles depuis tous les temps, l'ami de la maison, and equally necessary to both parties. The whole scene did not pass unobserved by Lord Albert, who recollected what observations had been made before, by some of the same party, on Lady Glenmore at the drawing-room; and he felt he despised those who could thus lightly tamper with the honour of the man whose notice they courted, whose society they affected to like, and to whose intimacy they endeavoured to aspire. But it was a subject on which he could only think. Miserably, our best friends are frequently precluded, from circumstances, from being of the least use to us.

After a short interval, passed in visiting the different objects of beauty and interest in the gardens of the Priory, the hour arrived for assembling the guests under the marquees where the dÉjeÛner dinatoire was prepared; and Lord and Lady Glenmore, with their party, adjourned thither. The Leinsengen, Baskerville, Boileau, and Lady De Chere, were already placed when they arrived; but all made way for them, and in the mÊlÉe of the moment Mr. Leslie Winyard succeeded in securing his post by the side of Lady Glenmore. After the first clamour of voices had subsided, every one spoke to his neighbour only; and Mr. Leslie Winyard availed himself of this opportunity to engross Lady Glenmore's attention in every possible way. Lady Boileau, who was seated opposite and rather desoeuvrÉ, amused herself by remarking every glance and every little attention which Mr. Winyard addressed to Lady Glenmore; and whispered to the Comtesse Leinsengen, "Ça va grand train," indicating by a look those of whom she spoke.

"O dat is always de way in dis country: either des dragonnes de vertu, or else, tÊte baissÉ, you give de grand scandale. 'Tis noting new; 'tis À votre ordinaire. Ça fait pitiÉ, but it cannot be help. Toujours des grandes passions, which end in de run away, de food for de newspapers; and den sauve qui peut, and de woman is left to sink or swim, que vous Êtes maladroites, vous autres Angloises."

"Pardon me, dear comtesse," said Lord Gascoigne, joining in the conversation, and speaking in the tone of satire with which he sometimes lashed the foibles of the day, "pardon me, comtesse, not always: there are many who, a little while after their ÉcartÉ, have retired from the scene in order to return to it with a fresh title and fresh fame. It only depends upon the rank that is held by the prÉfÉrÉ. It is true, were he as handsome as Adonis, and as seducing as Love himself, that would be no excuse; but if he has wealth, power, title, the affair passes through a regular process of sous entendu, and then all is smooth again, et on passe À des nouvelles amours."

"Very true," rejoined the Comtesse Leinsengen sharply; "and so much for your boasted London morale."

"Pray, however, remember, comtesse, that London is not England, nor England London; although, in regard to foreign capitals, that inference might once have held good, and Paris could be justly said to be all France. But our system of politics, as well as of private life, is one which no foreigner ever did or ever will understand."

The Comtesse Leinsengen gave her accustomed shrug, turned away before Lord Gascoigne had finished speaking, and the whole party soon after broke up, the ladies retiring into the house to change their dress and prepare for the ball.

The dancing was already begun when Lady Glenmore's party entered the ball-room. The whole glitter of the beautiful scene, the perfume exhaled from the plants, which floated through the freshness of the country air, all conspired to take the senses captive; and never did Lady Glenmore look more brilliant, or appear in more joyous spirits. There was an ingenuousness about her which enchanted even those who had least of it themselves, and who thought that perfection of manners consisted only in the refinement of art, to the exclusion of all natural feeling. As she was led away to the dance by Mr. Leslie Winyard, Lord Glenmore's eyes followed her, beaming with love and admiration.

"Elle est ravissante," said Lady Tenderden.

Lord Glenmore evinced his assent to the truth of this remark by a smile, which Lady Tenderden was willing that those around should consider directed to herself; and she continued to keep Lord Glenmore in conversation for some time, to improve an opinion, which it was always her aim to maintain, of her possessing an influence over him. Nor was the powerful charm of the scene, and the circumstances attendant upon it, experienced alone by Lady Glenmore. Lady Hamlet Vernon, in her turn, also acknowledged their influence. The consciousness of the presence of the object of her love, and the unalloyed confidence of the continuance of that enjoyment throughout the evening, gave to her beauty an air of triumph and of joy, which, had it sprung from an honest, innocent source, instead of being founded on intrigue and artifice, would have possessed a power and a charm which, as it was, her beauty missed. As she walked up the ball-room, leaning on Lord Albert's arm, a crowd intervened between them and the dancers; for every body had clustered together in one spot, attracted by some object which was hid from those at a distance.

Lord Albert heard on all sides exclamations of admiration on the beauty and the grace of some person who was at this moment dancing. Their curiosity was excited, and they pressed the more eagerly onwards; till, arriving suddenly at an opening in the circle formed round the dancers, Lord Albert perceived Lady Adeline Seymour immediately opposite to him,—the attraction of all eyes, the object of the concentrated admiration of the whole room. She was dancing with Mr. Foley;—dancing, not with the affectation of drawling over the floor as though she were doing penance, but with airiness and elasticity of spirit, tempered by grace and feminine delicacy. Lady Adeline was not at first conscious of his presence; while, as he stood rooted to the spot, he had leisure to gaze upon her in mingled surprise and agitation before she perceived him: but when she did, her eyes for a moment rested on his, with an expression which, brief as the moment was, shook his very frame. It was an agonized look of love and reproach; for not only did she see one whom she now was forced to believe a rival in his affections leaning fondly on Lord Albert's arm, but in the bosom of that rival the very myrtle sprig which Lord Albert had taken from her at the drawing-room with such seeming devotion. She identified it too well as being the same; for in her bitterest agony, when she plucked it on the morning of the Court, she had told over every leaf and every flower; and connecting each of them with some allusion to past days, and again feeling it to be the medium of a returning act of fondness, how could she forget, or mistake it for any other myrtle? As Lady Adeline now beheld this corroborating evidence of Lord Albert's cruelty and deceit, the colour glowed and faded in rapid alternation on her cheek; she seemed lost in thought; her footsteps became unsteady, and ready to sink under her; and it was a moment or two before Mr. Foley, holding her hand, could succeed in drawing her attention. She appeared to gaze at him like one whose senses had fled: then, as if making an effort to recal them, she stepped forward to continue the dance: but the buoyancy of her motion was gone; her late gossamer footstep seemed exchanged for one of lead; her eyes sought the ground; and when it was her turn to go back to her place, she remained in the middle of the circle till again rendered conscious of her mistake by the other parties advancing.

In this pause of the dance Lady Adeline had an opportunity of recovering her presence of mind; and, calling to her aid the just indignation which Lord Albert's conduct inspired, she felt herself armed against the tenderer feelings; and by what she construed his treachery and desertion, she was enabled to steel her heart to every soft emotion, and not afford greater triumph to her rival, or greater gratification to his self-love, by betraying any marks of sensibility. This idea, together with what she owed her mother, whose feelings she well knew would be deeply wounded if through weakness she made any public disclosure of her suffering, enabled Lady Adeline to rally her spirits sufficiently to go through her painful part with apparent ease and indifference; and so completely did she obtain the mastery over herself, that perhaps no one, save Lady Hamlet Vernon, was conscious of the workings of that breast, the peace of which she was perfidiously destroying. Lord Albert even was a stranger to what she endured; for, blind to the errors of his own conduct, he of course became blinded to their consequence, and never attributed Lady Adeline's behaviour towards him to the natural result of his own in respect to her. It is ever thus:—we look not to our errors as the cause of the misfortunes which befall us, and the pains and penalties to which we are doomed.

From the moment Lord Albert first beheld Mr. Foley dancing with Lady Adeline, he had remained transfixed to the spot. And how can language render by its slow process the thousand rapid feelings which gush simultaneously from the heart, and seem to pass through the mind at the same moment? Jealousy, indignation, scorn (though love in ambush was concealed beneath these bitter passions), alternately distracted him. The mother and daughter he alike accused of subtilty and subterfuge. He recalled to mind Lady Dunmelraise's manner to him; her words especially, and her expression, on the subject of the breakfast; Adeline's feigned indifference to it, now contrasted with her actual presence there, dancing with Mr. Foley. All these circumstances seemed to confirm the fatal truth; and disappointed love and mortified vanity, and a sense of having been deceived, juggled, contemned, were struggling at one and the same moment for ascendancy in his bosom. In this state of mind, the time, the place, the whole scene, save only this one prominent feature of interest, were to him as though they existed not. As the dance drew to a close, he asked himself what line of conduct he should pursue. Should he speak to Lady Adeline in a language of reproach? should he give utterance to his feelings in a few brief words of overwhelming import? No, he would not; it was beneath him. And if she was unworthy, and had forgotten what was due to him and to herself, he would never forget what was due to her. Could he address Adeline with calm indifference?—impossible!—his heart would not second the deception.

While he stood thus lost in thought, like one bereft of sense, the workings of his soul were not unheeded by her who leant on his arm the while. She felt that this very instant was the critical point of all her hopes, and she almost unconsciously pressed the arm on which she rested closer to her breast. Her respiration was broken; her eyes wandered in quick succession on Lord Albert and Lady Adeline alternately; and though she dared not propose to move from the spot where they stood, yet to remain there was torture. At last the dance, which had appeared to her interminable, ended; and Lady Adeline passed on with Mr. Foley, without taking any notice of Lord Albert whatever, as though she saw him not.

Lady Hamlet once more felt that she could breathe again, when she no longer beheld the object of her fears before her, and without any mutual recognition of each other having passed between Lord Albert and Lady Adeline. Fresh hopes revived in her breast. She now ventured to address the former in a tone of tremulous gentleness.

"Shall we not walk about in the garden? it is very hot here." He started, looking at her as a man awakening from a dream; and as he suffered himself to be led whither she would, he continued to muse in silence on all that had passed: then suddenly murmured, in a half-broken sentence,

"I will see Adeline; I will see her to-morrow." Lady Hamlet knew too well from this what must be the purpose he was revolving, and the fervency of his still remaining attachment for Lady Adeline. An icy chill withered her heart as she thought of the possible result of that interview, which the words that had involuntarily escaped him too surely predicted. But deeply skilled in the human heart, she did not attempt to say any thing to dissuade him at that moment from his purpose, nor did she venture to make any allusion whatever to Lady Adeline; for she was well aware that all interference would not only be fruitless, but might hazard the very object nearest her heart. Besides, Lord Albert had never suffered himself to pronounce Lady Adeline's name, even when, in the many conversations which he had held with Lady Hamlet Vernon, she had been covertly alluded to; neither had Lady Hamlet Vernon dared openly to touch upon his attachment to Lady Adeline, since their first interview after the visit at Restormel, when in the fervency of her feelings, and the plenitude of her despair, she said,

"Lady Adeline will never make you happy."

From the constrained and painful situation in which she now found herself placed, when silence was scarcely to be borne, and yet to break it was perilous, she was relieved by the approach of Mr. Spencer Newcombe, Lord Raynham, and Lord Glenmore; and glad to arrest them by way of saying something, asked if they had seen Lady Glenmore.

"Yes," replied Lord Raynham. "I left her some time ago enjoying that most enviable amusement, which only demands strength of wind and limb, and spares all the wear and tear of brains that graver cares demand. I wish it were the fashion for men of my age to make girouettes and pirouettes, and cut entrÈs. Grown gentlemen are taught to dance, and I have long had serious thoughts of learning incog."

"I hope you will let your intimate friends at least enjoy your first dÉbut," cried Mr. Spencer Newcombe. "But, after all, you know, Raynham, that girouettes and pirouettes belong equally to the dance of life as to the dance of the ball-room; and we are none of us quite ignorant of these, though some of us make them more gracefully than others."

Lord Raynham had a way of not hearing when it did not suit him to hear; and having no impromptu fait À loisir ready at that moment, by way of reply, he passed on, apparently insensible to the sting, which he was much better skilled in knowing how to inflict than how to receive.

"I think," said Lord Glenmore, "that at all events Georgina must have had enough of that enviable amusement, as Raynham calls it, by this time; and that if we do not go in quest of her, we shall not be together at supper." So saying, he sought her first among the dancers; but passed on, inquiring, as he went, if any one had seen her. Some replied one thing, some another; and many answered in a pointed manner, which, however, was unobserved by him, for it was contrary to Lord Glenmore's nature to entertain a doubt of those whom he once loved and esteemed. Being wearied of seeking Lady Glenmore, and concluding she had gone to the refreshment-room, he sat down by Lady Tenderden, whose vanity was always gratified in every opportunity of keeping up the remembrance of a past juvenile gossip in the eyes of the world.

In the meanwhile, Lady Glenmore, who had been overcome by the heat of the ball-room, had been easily prevailed upon to seek the refreshing coolness of the terraces; and having walked about some time, entered the conservatory, and sat down for a moment to inhale the perfume of the flowers and plants, and to enjoy the tranquillity it afforded from the noise and bustle of the dancers. Here Mr. Leslie Winyard beguiled the hour, and interested Lady Glenmore by reciting various passages from various poets, analogous to the spirit of the place, and then passing from these to the theme of such feelings as the lines he quoted were calculated to inspire. He dwelt with eloquence on the imperfection and little refinement of all attachments of the present day, expatiated on that homage which ought to be paid to woman, and which, as he spoke, he seemed to imply was willingly paid by himself to her.

There was an inebriating danger in this address, which Lady Glenmore was too young and too pure to see; and she listened complacently and unsuspectingly to the perilous flattery, forgetting how the moments flew, and unconscious of the impropriety of her remaining so long absent from the general circle, and in a place so remote from observation. Nor was she aware of the appearance which might attach to her, till a whisper fell on her ear, and, startling, made her arise hastily from her seat. It proceeded from Lord Gascoigne and Lord Baskerville, who stood behind some orange-trees.

"Basky," said the latter, arresting his companion by the arm, "we are de trop here," directing his attention to the spot where Lady Glenmore and Mr. Leslie Winyard were.

"Upon my word," replied Lord Baskerville, "this is worth all the fÊte put together."

"Hush!" said the latter distinctly; "let us be off: it is not fair."

Lady Glenmore looked round, but saw no one: it aroused her, however, to a recollection of the length of time that she had been sitting there, and moving forward on the instant, she said,

"We must return to the ball-room."

Mr. Leslie Winyard would willingly have detained her, but he felt that it was injudicious to press her to remain when she seemed to have taken alarm; and having himself heard the voices, which he believed to have occasioned Lady Glenmore's sudden departure, he was conscious that some curious intruders had witnessed the fact of his tÊte-À-tÊte; and he consoled himself for its interruption with the idea that its fame would soon be spread abroad, and in colours far more glowing than the reality.

When Lady Glenmore returned to the ball-room, she saw her husband in the midst of Lady Tenderden's coterie, enjoying that easy flow of spirits, which, tempered with elegance and refinement of fancy, marked peculiarly the charm of his society. As she approached, he arose and took her hand, and with an expression of pleasure drew her arm through his, as though he had found all that he wanted to complete his enjoyment of the pleasure of the scene. Lady Glenmore, too, seemed delighted; while some of those who witnessed this meeting exchanged significant looks, and whispered remarks upon the cunning duplicity of the one, and the consummate bonhommie of the duped.

"It is the best thing," said Lord Baskerville, "that I have seen this many a day:" and by Lord Tonnerre, Lord Boileau, and the rest of that knot of persons, Lady Glenmore was pronounced to be the cleverest woman in the world, her husband the greatest fool, and Leslie Winyard the most fortunate of men.

All this while Lord Albert had been close at Lady Hamlet Vernon's side, mute, and apparently insensible to every thing around. Once only did Lady Adeline pass before him; but he could not be deaf to the lavish encomiums he heard repeated on all sides, of the beauty and the grace of her who was to have been his own, but who was now lost to him, he feared, for ever; and all these things, and the sad contrast of the past and of the present, aggravated the bitterness of his soul.

The last glimpse he caught of her was on her leaving the Priory, when she was leaning on the arm of Mr. Foley, accompanied by Lady Louisa Blithewaite. Her spirits, wound up for some time to a factitious spring, had given way at last, and she could no longer keep up the deception. Languid, inanimate, almost unable to stand, she thought that she had done all which Lady Dunmelraise could demand; and, under the plea of excessive fatigue, she easily prevailed on Lady Louisa Blithewaite not to await the end of the fÊte, but to return to town. The general homage she had received, and the very particular dÉvouement of the Duke of Mercington, might, under other circumstances, have been powerful stimulants to the vanity of any young mind; but one absorbing passion is the best natural preservative against the follies of the world, and the heartlessness of vanity; for the incense of flattery palls upon a heart that is deeply engaged, and which scorns all praise that is not uttered by the lips of the one object of its devotion.

Before Lady Adeline reached town, the morning light streaked the horizon; and she felt that this rising of day, with its accompaniment of vernal airs, and twittering birds, and sparkling dew-drops, and all the gladness of an awakened creation, were but a mocking contrast to the setting sun of her hopes, the mournful notes of sorrow which rung in her ears, and the deadness of that affection which she had once thought could suffer no diminution or decay. The chilling damp of disappointed love clung around her heart and withered every hope, rendering her wholly spiritless, and unable to converse; and when she arrived at Lady Dunmelraise's door, she took a hasty leave of Lady Louisa Blithewaite, and stealing as noiselessly as she could to her apartment, she courted the silence of reflection, but not the calm of sleep.