The Monday appointed for the fancy ball arrived, and still nothing had been heard of Hargrave. Mrs. Villars fretted, and Caroline assumed a haughty and sulky indifference. During the day, every knock and ring brought disappointment, till the lateness of the hour warned them to prepare for the ball. It was then that Caroline, for the first time, announced her intention of remaining at home. In vain did Mrs. Villars remonstrate that her fancy Sultana's dress had cost more than twice as much as her sisters', and it was of as little use to flatter her vanity by representing that she would be the most elegantly dressed in the whole ball-room; Caroline's temper was not to be conquered in a single night. Tired of persuasion, her mother stormed, and changing entreaties for threats, commanded her to go; but Caroline was obstinate, and nothing but bodily force could have moved her from the arm-chair, in which she had settled herself for the evening, with a candle close to her elbow, and a new novel in her lap. She would not go, she declared, with a haughtiness which would have suited a more unworthy proposal. Nor would she move from her chair, even to give the assistance of her advice at her sisters' toilet, or, in any other way betray the slightest interest in an amusement for which they had all been so long and so busily preparing.

Extremely chagrined, Mrs. Villars was compelled to submit, and, as she gave a last glance at the beautiful velvet dress which taste and money had alike been expended to prepare, the bitterness of her disappointment was not a little increased by remembering that this fruitless purchase had been made with part of the loan so hardly wrung from her sister; and it was with an uneasy sensation of annoyance, that she led her fair daughters that night into the crowded ball-room.

Lucy, with a heart upon the rebound, and flushed with the determination of piquing Clair, if possible, had never looked more lovely than she did that night. A white dress of the greatest simplicity distinguished her character, as Finella, while her long light curls fell in careless tresses over her neck and shoulders, forming a veil, which enhanced the beauty they seemed bent upon concealing. How wildly beat the heart in that illregulated bosom? Her simply going to the ball would, she imagined, shew herself free from any deference to Arthur Clair's opinion, and if any thoughts of Amy Lesly came unbidden amongst the revelry, she banished the remembrance by a lighter laugh or a bolder sally. She could not fail to attract attention, and many strangers were anxious to be introduced to the fairy Villars, as she was that night called; but one only attracted, and soon absorbed her attention, he was a young man of a prepossessing appearance, with large melting eyes and a low persuasive voice. Evidently attracted by her appearance, he had obtained an introduction, under the name of Beauclerc. He waltzed to perfection, and the implied compliments he every now and then offered, in a tone and voice of great sweetness, Lucy took for deeper homage than he perhaps intended, and the ready blush deepened on her cheek, and her eye sparkled when she suffered herself to be led to a seat apart from the dancers, where his witty remarks afforded her ample amusement. So readily, indeed, flowed his language, that the absent Clair sunk into nothing, a mere every-day flirt, compared with this fascinating new acquaintance. Besides, he possessed the power of drawing her out, and made her feel quite clever, by leading her to display herself in a new light. He listened to her remarks with the most flattering attention, and resigned her to the gentleman who next claimed her hand for the dance, with apparent reluctance. She was then surprised to find that she had as little to say as formerly, and that her new partner's observations on the fashionable news of the day had become quite uninteresting. She was not, therefore, sorry to find Mr. Beauclerc again by her side, when the dance was over, and she had taken a seat by her mamma.

"Can you tell me?" she said, turning to him, with a smile, "why, just now, I had plenty to say, but immediately I began to dance with that gentleman, I felt so dull I could not say any thing at all. I have been labouring at conversation, I assure you, with as much industry and dulness as the noted donkey at Carrisbrooke Castle employs in his task, but with far less success, for he succeeds in fetching up some water—I am afraid I cannot say the same, of a single idea. Would you believe that I twice observed on the band, once on the room, and three times on the lights. Can you tell me why, since you seem to have the genius of explaining every thing?"

A well pleased smile passed over his lips as he replied, only, by taking out a small hunting watch which he quietly opened, and then handing it to her, he presented her at the same time with the key of his escritoir.

"Will you," said he "oblige me by winding this watch."

"Oblige you," replied Lucy, laughing, "by breaking the spring, I suppose—that key belongs to your desk."

"You give me the very answer I desired. You cannot wind my watch, because I have not given you the right key. This illustrates what I am going to say.

"There are some minds suited to other minds, as this watch is to its key. This beautiful piece of mechanism," said he, playing with the watch in his hand, "would be to me, or to any one else, perfectly useless without the key, which, however simple in its construction, is yet so necessary to the watch, that it alone can render it of any service. It is so with the human mind, we may live for years without being fortunate enough to meet with one answering mind which can unlock the treasures of our heart, and the secret springs of feeling, and of thought, and bring them into exercise. It is the sympathy of those around us which we need, the power which others possess of understanding us; to place ourselves in a true light—do you understand me?"

"Partly," replied Lucy, hesitating, and looking down.

"Partly, but not entirely," returned Mr. Beauclerc, repeating her words, with an emphasis, which argued a slight degree of superiority, to which Lucy readily bowed. "Yet I would say you were made to enjoy these things as well as understand them. Nay, you must not think me rude if I say I read as much when first introduced to you; and that I felt I should be understood if I ventured to speak in a way which the world too often ridicules, because it does not comprehend it. It is only the simple language of truth; yet, because it is not exactly the same as the hacknied language of the world, it is regarded as nonsense."

Lucy did not quite understand all he said, but she felt that she was receiving an admiration more flattering, because paid to her understanding; and she only broke up the conversation after repeated invitations to the dance, and her pulse fluttered quickly as she heard, or fancied she heard, a sigh from the accomplished Beauclerc, as she gracefully resigned herself to a young officer, upon whose arm she was soon whirled past him in the giddy round.

Mrs. Villars smiled with secret pride, when some of her friends rallied her on her daughter's conquest, and she took an early opportunity of asking a friend who he might be.

"Have you not heard?" was the reply, "that he has brought his own carriage, and two hunters, to the Castle, and Ball—and, besides, his person speaks for itself, it is so distinguÉ."

Mrs. Villars sought for Lucy, to impart these particulars, but was not sorry to find her waltzing with Mr. Beauclerc.

"What a handsome couple they would make," thought she; "and, oh, if Caroline and Hargrave were but here, I should be quite happy." But she little dreamt of the pleasure yet in store for that evening.

Mr. Villars soon beginning to feel impatient, she was compelled to draw her party together. Beauclerc accompanied them to the door; and as he handed Lucy into the carriage, she fancied his hand trembled. With this pleasing impression, she leant back in the fly which conveyed them home, and gave herself up to pleasant reverie, and castle building. She ran over every word which had passed in their long conversations, and thought they were an easy beginning to a more pleasing acquaintance than they often met with—she began then to feel quite surprised that she ever had given a tear to Captain Clair.

"Willingly," she said to herself; "will I resign him to Mabel, if she will have him; yet there was something in him I liked, though I cannot well remember what it was now. Why, he never talked in six weeks, half the sense which Mr. Beauclerc has thrown into one conversation. I feel quite grateful to him for deserting me, since, otherwise, I never should have met this very superior man, who, as he himself observed, though not in plain words exactly, possesses the key to my mind—and does not that seem like affection?"

These pleasing considerations were interrupted by their stopping at their own door, paying the driver, and running gaily up stairs.

"Hark," said Mrs. Villars, "there are voices in the drawing-room, I am certain. There are, I do believe."

"Why mamma," said Maria, who, with more courage, had applied her eye to the key-hole; it is only Caroline talking to somebody. When, upon this information, they opened the door, Caroline was discovered tÊte-À-tÊte, with a strange gentleman, with as much ease and nonchalance as if at the regular calling hour.

There was a slight tone of triumph in her voice as she said:—

"Colonel Hargrave, papa?"

"Oh, Colonel," said Mrs. Villars, taking the words out of her husband's mouth; "I can scarcely forgive you for obliging us to go to the ball without you."

"He has excused himself most ably," said Caroline; "the death of a friend detained him."

"I assure you," said he, with the greatest courtesy, "that nothing but so serious a reason would have prevented my keeping my appointment; and I trust, my dear sir, that you will excuse my keeping your dinner waiting on Saturday; but, as I said, just now, some very sad circumstances detained me on my road."

"Pray, say not another word," said Mrs. Villars; "we are very sorry for you, I am sure."

"I suppose," said Maria, "you did not arrive in time to join us?"

"Do you think," said Caroline, "that he could go to a fancy ball after attending the death-bed of a friend?"

"No, truly," said he, "I was in no humor for such gaiety, and was more pleased by the quiet welcome I have already received."

"Caroline has only expressed the feelings we should all entertain," said Mrs. Villars, smiling benignly, "and, indeed, I am most happy to see my truant nephew, at last."

Hargrave slightly started at the word nephew, not being able to divine how his distant connection with the family could be twisted into so close a relationship.

"I trust," continued Mrs. Villars, "that Caroline has taken every care of you, and that you have had some refreshment."

"Indeed she has been most kind," replied he politely. "She would not allow me to persuade her to retire to rest, when I had once announced my intention of remaining up to introduce myself. I will, however, no longer tax your patience; but will go to my own room, if you will allow me."

They accordingly separated, the Colonel lingering to say a few words to his host, and the ladies retiring to a kind of mutual dressing-room.

"Well, my love," said Mrs. Villars to her eldest daughter, "I will never blame you again, for I see you know how to manage without my interference. Nothing could have turned out better."

She felt, indeed, half inclined to idolise her, for the very ill-temper, which, in the early part of the evening, she had more justly blamed. Caroline, in her turn, looked upon them all with an air of superiority, as if the accident had been the result of her prudence.

"Indeed," she said, "he is a most sensible and entertaining man, and, I dare say, if the truth were known, my evening was the most pleasant after all."

"Not quite," replied Lucy, "for I also met with a most sensible and entertaining man."

"Yes," echoed Maria, "such a handsome man too—Hargrave is nothing to him. Every one was wondering who he was, and remarking on his attentions to Lucy."

"What, is Lucy taken in again?" said Caroline, with jealous bitterness. "I thought once in a season was sufficient."

Lucy coloured deeply and angrily, for it was not the first wound she had received.

"Well," said she to herself, "I will be closer this time—I will have no one to abuse my confidence by taunting speeches."

"Come, come," interposed Mrs. Villars, "do not let us quarrel with fortune; for my part, I feel inclined to be on good terms with all the world. Nothing could have been more propitious than your meeting in such a romantic manner. What were you doing when he came in?—at your harp, I hope. Well, how do you like him?"

"Why, Mamma, I think you believe in love at first sight. I am not so easily won."

"Nor the Colonel either, I dare say," said Maria.

"I will thank you, Miss Maria, to remember what you say, and to whom you say it."

"That I very seldom forget," retorted Maria, as she laid down her Swiss hat and ribbons, with a sigh, to think that she might not display them again.

"Come, come," again urged Mrs. Villars, "surely, Caroline, you can give us your opinion of him. You are so quick at reading character."

"That may be," replied Caroline, "but I scarcely think the right advantage to take of discrimination is to retail a private conversation, for the sake of subjecting a friend to everybody's quizzing observations."

Here she glanced angrily at Maria.

"Well," returned the latter, perfectly undisturbed, "is it come to friend and private, already, that, at least, sounds like something, and if you will conquer the good nabob in your own way, I suppose we must excuse being kept in the dark, as the cat politely observed to the mouse, when he was introduced to him in the cupboard."

"I think he is very handsome," said Selina.

"Yes," said Maria, "well enough since he possesses good eyes, good teeth, good forehead, nose and eyes—all tolerably well put together. Yes, I suppose he might be called handsome. I will ask Miss Foster, she is such a judge of masculine beauty."

"I beg you will do no such thing," said Caroline; "he must be considered as one of our own family, and I do not see what right Miss Foster has to pass her observations on us."

"I am afraid you are not quite so rigid with regard to Miss Lovelace," retorted Maria.

Mrs. Villars saw that much bitter remark was rising, and knowing that nothing could be obtained from Caroline, dismissed the conclave, which had assembled at so late an hour, only in consequence of the importance of affairs under deliberation; and she retired to rest satisfied with the course events had taken, and fully impressed with respect for Caroline's judgment. She, meanwhile, in the retirement of her own room, condescended to give Selina an account of the evening's conversation, by which means Mrs. Villars heard the whole the next day from Selina, whose more gentle temper rendered her the general recipient of her mother's schemes.