It was long before Selina's agitated spirits could be composed; and when at length she sunk to rest, she was haunted by confused dreams of mixed joy and sorrow, in which Mordaunt's figure was always prominent. At last, however, towards morning she fell into a quiet sleep, from which she did not awake till several hours after Mrs. Galton and Augustus had left Eltondale.

Selina had given her maid so many charges to call her in time to take leave of them, that she had firmly relied on her doing so, little imagining that Mrs. Galton had previously determined to spare her the pain of parting. She had left a note for her, in which she reiterated her farewell, and her request to hear frequently from Selina; but the kindness of its expressions, if possible, aggravated the poor girl's sorrow and disappointment. As usual, she gave way unrestrainedly to her feelings, and wept aloud, really unconscious that while her tears flowed ostensibly for Mrs. Galton alone, her regrets arose not a little from the absence of Augustus. But, though Selina deceived herself in the belief, that she only bewailed this her first separation from her beloved aunt, she was most sincere in the grief she professed to feel on her account; for hypocrisy was a stranger to her guileless heart, yet uninitiated in the mysteries of that world, in which the timid and unpractised first learn to conceal the sentiments they actually feel, and conclude by displaying those that are but assumed. On the contrary, her genuine feelings were neither blunted by familiarity with sorrow, nor exhausted by the premature cultivation of sickly sensibility; and, though a more sobered reason might have wished the expression of them to be occasionally restrained, yet even a Stoic might have confessed, that the perfection of her judgment would have been dearly purchased by any alteration in the susceptibility of her heart.

Her melancholy toilet was scarcely finished, before she was summoned to Lady Eltondale's dressing-room. Her Ladyship advanced to the door to meet her with unusual cordiality of manner; but she scarcely beheld her wan countenance, when, starting back, she exclaimed with surprise, "Good heavens, child! what can be the matter? Oh! I had really forgotten Mrs. Galton's departure. Why, Selina, you could not have disfigured yourself more, if she was gone to heaven instead of to Bath. Here, La Fayette, do bring some cold cream to Miss Seymour, and a little eau de Cologne. However, my dear girl, I cannot regret that you have so totally disguised yourself to-day, as we shall have a pleasant tÊte À tÊte. You shall breakfast up stairs with me this morning, for you are really at present not presentable."

Lady Eltondale's kind consideration for Selina individually, and apparent indifference to the cause of her sorrow, was, perhaps, more effectual in its temporary suppression, than the most sympathetic condolences would have been; and, before Mons. Argant made his appearance with the apparatus for breakfast, Selina had sufficiently recollected herself, to request Lady Eltondale not to derange her plans on her account, but to remember her other guests.

"My dear little rustic," answered her Ladyship, laughing, "your odd notions really remind me of the last century. Nobody plays the part of hostess now; and as to guests—none could be admitted into a fashionable house, that do not know how to make themselves perfectly at home in it. I declare you are so simple, you would hardly have understood the merit of Mr. Frederick Bijou appearing last spring at a party his wife gave to the Prince, with a round hat under his arm, to show he was the only stranger in the room. Why now every inn in a country village is fitted up with all the conveniences of a private house; and the best praise you can give to a family mansion is to compare it to an hotel." The Viscountess was excessively entertained at the artless surprise expressed by her auditor; and concluded some similar observations by saying, she knew Selina would be so astray in the scene into which she had been thus suddenly dropt, that she was very glad nobody would be with them till after Christmas. "Then," said Selina, "I suppose Lady Hammersley is gone." "Oh! dear no—but she is nobody. Sir Robert is a relation of my Lord's; and I am obliged to go through the martyrdom of hearing his barbarous phraseology for at least a month every year, and I am afraid ten days of the penance are yet to come. Lady Hammersley never visits London; and, indeed, I believe the good woman thinks herself almost contaminated by even venturing as far as this within the Charybdean pool.—But, poor soul! she need not be afraid. If fashion was absolutely epidemical, she would never suffer from the contagion. She and the Admiral spend nine months of every year at Bath; he, drinking the water and reading the newspapers, and she, playing cards and writing essays. However, you may turn even her to account; for in one half hour you will learn more what vice is, from her long-syllabled declamations against it, than your poor innocent head would dream of in a twelvemonth."

"And which of the parents does the son resemble?" asked Selina, laughing. "Why, it is difficult to divine what nature intended him to be. One may parody Cowper, and say, 'God made them, but he has made himself;' and what the composition will turn out, I know not. He wishes to be a man of the world, and affects the reputation of vice, without having the courage to be wicked. I verily believe he is often at church of a Sunday evening, when he pretends to be at the gaming-table. However, you need not be inquisitive about him, for he will never condescend to notice you, till he ascertains whether you are the fashion or not. He does not want money, and he does want ton; and you know, according to the new system of craniology, men ought to choose their wives by the inverse ratio of their own deficiences. But you don't inquire about Mademoiselle Omphalie, whom I thought you meant last night to swear an everlasting friendship with. I asked her here solely for your sake."

Selina coloured, and expressed her thanks with her usual warmth and empressement.

"But I do not intend Mademoiselle Omphalie to be Miss Seymour's bosom friend. She is a public singer, my dear, and as such her reputation is perfect;—her private character is, I believe, much less immaculate; but with that, you know, we have nothing to do. The world now adopts the precept, 'Judge not that ye be not judged;' and, if people are wise enough not to hold the lantern to their own vices, they need not be troubled with any Diogenes. As to Mademoiselle Omphalie, she is just now on the tottering point of respectability, which, of course, makes her doubly decorous in her general behaviour; and, as I do not think her reputation can survive another winter, I was extremely anxious to seize this opportunity of giving you the advantage of her talents and instruction in music. But, Selina, don't let her instruct you in anything else, for she would infallibly make you a prude or a coquette, and I scarcely know which I hate most."

It is impossible to express Selina's astonishment at Lady Eltondale's conversation. When they had last met, she had been both delighted and surprised at the ease and elegance of her manners; but as she had only seen her in the company of Mrs. Galton, she was totally unconscious of the degree of levity to which that ease of manner could degenerate, either from accident or design. Lady Eltondale now entertained her wondering guest with a style of conversation to which she was totally unused. It is true, her expressions, like her conduct, were so guarded that no weak point was left open to censure; but she seemed so little to respect the barriers between vice and virtue, that they appeared to be considered by her as by no means insurmountable;—and Selina, finding those principles of rigid propriety now ridiculed, which she had hitherto been taught only to venerate, wondered for a moment whether the error lay in her Ladyship's frivolity or her own ignorance.

Meantime the Viscountess was not unobservant of her niece. She perceived that her changing countenance portrayed every varying emotion, almost before she was herself conscious of its influence. Sometimes the expression of her dark brow led her to fear, that Selina was capable of making deep reflections, though she willingly believed her deficient in resolution. At other times the arch smile, that played round her dimpled mouth, showed she was by no means insensible to the charms of raillery and satire, whilst the half-formed reply seemed to insinuate, that she could emulate the bewitching, though dangerous, talent she admired. But above all, Lady Eltondale failed not to remark the evanescent nature of all Selina's feelings, which almost seemed to exhaust themselves in the first stage of their existence. Hers was indeed "the tear forgot as soon as shed;" and, as she accompanied Lady Eltondale through the various apartments of her splendid house, and innocently expressed her delight and wonder at all she saw, her experienced and artful guide smiled at the rapid transitions of her thoughts, and anticipated a speedy conquest over a mind, which appeared already weakened by inherent volatility.

When Selina joined the party at dinner-time, Mrs. Galton, Augustus, and the Hall, seemed already to be forgotten by her. It was true the roses in her cheek yet drooped from the effect of the morning shower; but her lovely countenance had reassumed that expression of content and pleasure which was most natural to it.—But,

Unfortunately at dinner Lord Eltondale addressed to her one of his inconsiderate compliments, in which he alluded, with more kindness than delicacy, to her recent misfortune. The unexpected mention of her father overcame her spirits; and, as usual, without reference to the spectators, she gave way to the feelings of the moment, and burst into tears. Mr. Hammersley, laying down his knife and fork, turned to stare at the mourner with an expression of countenance, that seemed to say, it was long since he had witnessed the natural emotions of a susceptible heart. Lady Eltondale withdrew the attention of Mademoiselle Omphalie by making some opportune inquiry. But Sir Robert's observation of Selina was not to be evaded. After looking at her steadfastly for some minutes, he exclaimed, "Come, come, my girl, cheer up;—swab the spray off your bowsprit, and never let the toppinglifts of your heart go down. If your father has got into port before you, if you keep a steady course and a true reckoning, you'll be sure of having a good birth alongside of him in a tide or two. Here, toss off this bumper, and haul in your jib sheet."

Selina could not help smiling at the manner in which the kind-hearted old man offered his consolation. But Lady Hammersley, who had hitherto remained in silence, now remarked in an emphatic tone, that "It was a work of supererogation to endeavour to suppress the tear of filial regret. A few weeks' association with the votaries of fashion would effectually eradicate the meritorious sentiments, and teach hypocritical sensibility to fictitious griefs to be ostentatiously substituted for genuine susceptibility."

From that day, during the remainder of his stay at Eltondale, Sir Robert Hammersley seemed to interest himself particularly about Selina. And though his Lady seldom condescended to address herself to her, yet even the cynical turn of her conversation implied approbation of Miss Seymour's present character by the very anticipations of its speedy alteration, which she daily repeated. Mr. Hammersley, as Lady Eltondale had prophesied, scarcely noticed the untutored girl, and seldom joined the morning party, except when Mademoiselle Omphalie was employed in communicating her enchanting talents to Selina, whose rapid progress astonished even Lady Eltondale. She already perfectly understood the science of music; and her naturally fine voice was peculiarly adapted to exemplify Mademoiselle Omphalie's excellent instructions. Even before many weeks had passed, Selina could not only join her in some beautiful Italian duets, but also accompany herself very tolerably on the harp, which soon became her favourite instrument.