"What a delightful girl Miss Wildenheim is!" exclaimed Selina Seymour, as she sat at work in Mrs. Galton's dressing-room the day after she had dined at Webberly House.—"I am sure we shall become intimate friends; I never saw any body I admired half so much." Mrs. Galton coincided in Selina's praise of her new favourite; for though she was not equally prone to form "intimate friendships" at first sight, her penetration had led her to conceive nearly as favourable an opinion of Miss Wildenheim as Selina had expressed. Indeed, Mrs. Galton was particularly desirous of improving her acquaintance with Mrs. Sullivan's interesting ward; for though she was, in general, extremely suspicious of the friendships girls so frequently contract and break with equal precipitation, she was extremely anxious that Selina should meet with a suitable companion of her own sex; and the refined elegance of Miss Wildenheim's manners, the calmness of her deportment, and the good sense which all her observations evinced, led Mrs. Galton to hope, that from her society her beloved niece might derive as much advantage as satisfaction. But at the same time, she recollected, that a degree of mystery seemed to hang over Adelaide's situation; and, therefore, while she gave a willing assent to Selina's encomiums, she cautiously withheld her sanction to a sudden intimacy, until a longer acquaintance confirmed or destroyed her present prepossession in Miss Wildenheim's favour.

Selina had never yet had any female associate, except Mrs. Galton; for though Sir Henry's considerate attention to "poor Mrs. Martin," and her inseparable companion Lucy, occasioned their being frequent visitors at the Hall, yet they were so different in character, pursuits, and situation from Miss Seymour, that no degree of intimacy could ever take place between them. Selina had been so much disgusted by the young ladies at Webberly House, on their first introduction, that she had shrunk from all subsequent familiarity with them, nor did her aunt, in this, endeavour to conquer her prejudices.

Mrs. Galton was aware, that such was the susceptibility of Selina's heart, and the candour of her disposition, that if once she felt a preference, her whole soul would be engrossed by the object of her attachment, and that the strength of her regard could probably be more easily anticipated than its duration: she was therefore particularly cautious in permitting Selina to have any intercourse with those of whose merits she did not feel well assured; believing that much of her own future character, and consequent happiness, would depend on that of her first guides and associates on her entrance into life. Hitherto, her only companions and her only confidants had been Sir Henry, Mrs. Galton, and Augustus Mordaunt. In them all her innocent affections were centred. To them her whole mind was displayed; and so guiltless was she of even a thought she could blush to own, that she scarcely imagined her ingenuousness was a merit. Nor had the want of other companions in any degree lessened the animation of her character; perhaps, on the contrary, the very antidotes, to which Mrs. Galton had recourse to avoid a premature gravity, had rather tended to increase that vivacity, which bordered on levity, and was her most dangerous characteristic. Whenever the lessons of her childhood had been concluded, she had always been permitted, and even encouraged, to join in many of those games and exercises, that are usually appropriated to the amusement of the other sex. Often has she quitted an abstruse book, or a beautiful drawing, to trundle her hoop, or run races with her playfellow Augustus. And when other girls have trembled under the rod of the dancing master, she has been gaining health and activity together, by vaulting over gates, that more refined young ladies would, perhaps, have dreaded to climb. It is true, that as she advanced towards womanhood, she was taught to attend rather more to the decorums of life; and, instead of being permitted to bound through the woods like the fawns she dislodged, or even (shocking to relate) walk hand in hand with the old steward over half the park, before girls of fashion would have broken their first slumbers; she now changed her amusements, and accompanied Mrs. Galton in her charitable errands to the poor, or, attended by Augustus and her groom, rode through the delightful lanes in the neighbourhood. However, since his departure from the Hall, her rides were confined within the park walls, and scarcely a day passed, when the recollection of their rambles, in which she so much delighted, did not serve to renew the expression of her regrets at his absence. But even that circumstance failed to depress her spirits. Perhaps, amongst all created beings, she at that moment was almost the happiest. She knew no world beyond the little circle round her own home, and in that circle she loved and was beloved. Every eye beamed on hers with satisfaction, and every heart returned her affection with redoubled fondness. She dreamed not of insincerity, and she knew not what was grief, except indeed when she enjoyed the luxury of sharing or alleviating that of others; which her frequent visits to the neighbouring cottages sometimes presented to her view: and never did she look so lovely as when she bent over the bed of sickness, or rocked the cradle of infant suffering, while her eyes swam in tears, or sparkled with the joy of successful benevolence.

Though Sir Henry Seymour was extremely hospitable, yet so retired was the neighbourhood of Deane Hall, that the ladies at Webberly House and the Parsonage were the only ones that Mrs. Galton visited, except Mrs. Martin and Mrs. Lucas. But as autumn approached, the visits of the two latter to the Hall became more frequent; for Sir Henry was fond of what he called a social rubber of whist; and as his constant tormentor the gout disabled him from using any exercise, beyond what his Bath chair procured for him, his chief amusement was in the society of his country friends, who were most happy to assemble round the good Baronet's fire side, when a blazing faggot corrected the influence of a keen air, and gave them a foretaste of the comforts of winter, before they were yet introduced to any of its horrors.

Of these quiet parties Selina was merely a spectator: as, after she had answered all Mrs. Martin's questions, with the same kindness they were asked; provided Lucy with the daily newspaper, and the last new magazine; placed her father's chair and arranged his foot-stool, (for he thought no one could settle them as comfortably as his Selina); all her duties of the evening were at an end. She could then amuse herself unnoticed, with her pencil or her tambour frame, or have recourse to her harpsichord: where, unambitious of praise, and unstimulated by vanity, she would, for hours, "warble her wood notes wild."

Sometimes, indeed, Mr. and Mrs. Temple would join the party; and though without even the acquisition of their society Selina was always cheerful, yet when she enjoyed the rational conversation of the one, and the lively good-nature of the other, she felt additional pleasure: for both these excellent people looked on Selina almost as a child of their own. Mr. Temple had watched with delight the gradual development of an understanding, from whose matured powers he fondly anticipated every good; though his anxious penetration led him sometimes to shudder for her future character and fate, as he watched the susceptibility of her heart,

His amiable consort, however, notwithstanding all her deference to his opinion, would scarcely acknowledge that the ray of celestial light, which played round the opening blossom and gave it added brilliancy, might, by prematurely expanding its charms, doom it to untimely decay. And, sometimes, when the venerable pastor, with parental solicitude, almost regretted that volatility, which to indifferent spectators but gave a charm the more, Mrs. Temple, with that fearful prescience which but belongs to a female heart, would stop the intended reproof, and say, "Ah! James, do not check her innocent mirth; the day may come, when we would give the world to see her smile." Meantime the lovely object of their care would often, when at night she laid her guiltless head on her pillow, as yet unwatered by a single tear, add to her pious thanksgiving a wish that all the world was as happy, as she gratefully acknowledged she was herself.

Little did this innocent child of nature imagine, that fate had already marked the hour, when she was to bid farewell to the calm scenes of her present happiness. Sir Henry never spoke, and could scarcely bear to think, of the engagement between her and Mr. Elton, to which he had so precipitately given his consent: and Mrs. Galton was equally averse to mentioning the subject: of course, therefore, Selina remained totally unconscious of it, and her time passed in the happy alternation of leisure and employment, unmarked by accident, and unimpaired by sorrow. Even the visit of Lord and Lady Eltondale was already almost forgotten by her, or only occasionally occurred to her memory as a dream, whilst even the fascination she had wondered at and admired by degrees faded from her recollection.

One fine autumnal day, in the beginning of October, she had just returned from one of her favourite rambles in the park, when she abruptly entered the library, to show to Sir Henry an exhausted leveret, that she had discovered panting in a thicket, and that she had brought home in her arms: as she held it she partially covered it by her frock, which she had caught up to keep it warm; without any recollection of the consequent exposure of her beautiful ancle, which this derangement of her drapery had occasioned. Her color was heightened by exercise, and the wind had dishevelled her luxuriant brown hair, that strayed in ringlets on her beaming cheek, whilst her straw hat, almost untied, had slipped off her head, and hung behind, in contrast to the remaining locks that a comb loosely fastened. Perhaps a painter or a sculptor would have chosen that moment, to perpetuate the beautiful object, that, as Selina opened the door, thus suddenly presented itself to the delighted gaze of two gentlemen, who were then visiting Sir Henry: in one Selina immediately recognised Mr. Webberly, and to the other she was introduced as his friend, Mr. Sedley. At first Selina coloured, as she momentarily recollected her dishabille, if such it might be called; but in an instant, recovering herself, she apologized to her father for her intrusion, and calmly obeyed his directions to seat herself beside him, whilst she dismissed her trembling protÉgÉe to be nursed below stairs. Was it innate good sense, or was it incipient vanity, that saved this young recluse from the torments of mauvaise honte, which so many votaries of fashion feel or feign? Her colour was as variable as the tints of a summer sky; but though it was often heightened, and sometimes changed by quick susceptibility affecting it, it seldom suffered from that illegitimate timidity, that owes its birth to an inordinate anxiety to please. The language of compliment was foreign to her ear, and she had yet to learn that finished coquetry, that wraps itself in the veil of modesty, and flies to be pursued.

Mr. Webberly stated, the motive of his visit was not only to deliver an invitation from his mother to a ball she purposed giving in a few weeks, but also to add his earnest persuasions, that Sir Henry, Mrs. Galton, and Miss Seymour would accept it. On this occasion the unpolished Selina broke through all the rules of etiquette; and, totally unmindful of the presence of strangers, at the mention of a ball jumped up, clapped her hands, and springing almost as high as another Parisot, exclaimed, as she threw her arms round Sir Henry's neck, "Pray dear, dear Papa, let me go, I've heard so much of balls!" It may be supposed, the gentlemen strenuously seconded her solicitations: their united entreaties having obtained Sir Henry's consent, they at length withdrew, whilst Selina reiterated her thanks and her joy with equal earnestness and naÏvetÉ.

"Well, Sedley, what do you think of Miss Seymour?" exclaimed Webberly, as they rode leisurely home. "By Heavens! she is quite beautiful," returned his friend.—"She has the finest eyes and teeth I ever beheld."—"And fine oaks too, or she'd never do for me," rejoined her calculating admirer. A silence of some minutes ensued, which was at last broken by Sedley's observing, that "he had never seen such a profusion of silky hair." "For my part," resumed Webberly, "I like black hair much better: Miss Wildenheim is a thousand times handsomer than Miss Seymour!"

Mr. Sedley neither contradicted nor assented to this observation, but with apparent nonchalance turned the subject to that of shooting and hunting; which promised amusements had been his inducement for visiting Webberly House. The conversation was not again resumed, and they returned scarcely in time to dress for dinner, which the anxious Mrs. Sullivan declared would be quite "ruinated," assuring them, "the cook was always arranged and discordant by them there long preambulations a-horseback they were so fond of."