To account for the unexpected appearance of Lord Osselstone and Mordaunt together at Lady Eltondale's party, it will be necessary briefly to mention, that, soon after Augustus had left Mrs. Galton at Bath, the Earl had arrived there, and accidentally renewed their acquaintance. The frequent opportunity of intercourse, which all such places afford, having produced a degree of unexpected association between her and the Earl, it was not unnatural, that the nephew of the one and the favourite of the other should frequently become the subject of their discourse; and Mrs. Galton delighted in expatiating on the fine character of her dear Augustus, with whom she kept up a constant and confidential correspondence.

There were few characters so much respected by Lord Osselstone as that of Mrs. Galton. Candour and simplicity were the qualities of all others, which, by not calling forth from him the defensive armour of distrust and penetration, left his heart more open to the impressions of real worth. The Earl knew that on common subjects Mrs. Galton could have no interest in appearing to him other than she really was; and on the subject of Augustus in particular, though he sometimes mentally accused her of exaggeration, he was perfectly convinced she was uniformly sincere. She once, in her zealous friendship, communicated to his Lordship a part of Augustus' correspondence with herself; and to this transcript of his mind, which was incontestably written without design of being read by a third person, did Lord Osselstone give more credit than to her partial representation of the original.

The consequence of these communications became afterwards apparent. Lord Osselstone soon removed to London; and one day meeting Augustus in the street, he accosted him with so much of the suaviter in modo, that his at first unbending pride was finally subdued. For never yet had Lord Osselstone encountered a rock which he could not dissolve, though by more dulcet means than those attributed to the Carthaginian hero; and the Alpine snow, which had hitherto enveloped both uncle and nephew, being once thawed, a frequency of intercourse, as unsought as unexpected on the part of Mordaunt, had taken place between them: not that they were yet intimate, or appeared likely to become so. A certain magic circle seemed to surround Lord Osselstone; and though the politeness and condescension of his manners attracted others to its very verge, there was still a secondary, though invisible repulsive power, that forbade approach beyond its well defined limits.

Augustus now received frequent invitations to Osselstone House, both for large dinner parties, and for the still more flattering distinction of a tÊte À tÊte; but though he daily met with considerate and even kind attentions from the Earl, he could not help still feeling he was more his patron than his friend. Lord Osselstone frequently concluded a tÊte À tÊte dinner, in which he had exerted every charm of conversation for the entertainment of his guest, at the same time eliciting all the varied powers of understanding that guest possessed, by proposing that he should accompany him to those higher circles of fashion, which the Earl still occasionally frequented; and in those crowded assemblies where there is so often "company without society, and dissipation without pleasure," the heir to Lord Osselstone's earldom was always welcome, even where the untitled Augustus Mordaunt would scarcely have been noticed.

It may be supposed that Augustus received, with no little trepidation, the card his uncle presented him with for Lady Eltondale's assembly. For a moment he hesitated whether or not to accept it; but the thought of being once more in the same room with Selina soon over-balanced his wounded feelings. As he followed his uncle up the sumptuous stair-case in Portman-square, while his heart fluttered between pleasure and despondency, his mind had wandered back to the scenes of Deane Hall, and "days long since gone by." By a natural illusion Selina's figure had always floated before his fancy, as he had last seen it clothed in the sable garb of woe, with the tear of regret resting on her pallid cheek. How different was the blooming form that now presented itself, as at the moment of his entering the room his eye intuitively singled her out from the crowd that surrounded her. She stood like the queen of beauty receiving the homage of all around, her eyes sparkling with animation, her whole figure beaming in joy. "Good God, how lovely!" he involuntarily exclaimed. But as his protracted gaze discovered the alterations her manners and appearance had undergone in the few months she had been under the tuition of Lady Eltondale, a cold chill ran through his veins, as he recollected the possibility that her mind might be equally changed; and renewing his scrutinizing glance, he shuddered at the external improvement that had first extorted his admiration, and sighed to think of the lovely artless girl, who would once have flown to meet him with all the innocence of undisguised delight.

But though Augustus had thus instantly recognized Selina, though his eyes had followed her every step, and watched her every motion, she had not then discovered him. The moment she did perceive him, her first impulse was to move towards the spot on which he stood. But she had scarcely taken a few steps, when she as involuntarily stopped. She became embarrassed, and had she been more experienced in the waywardness of the human heart, she would better have known why, with conscious timidity, she hesitated to approach him she was most delighted to behold. Augustus watched her approach, and had advanced a few steps to meet it, but misconstruing her delay, he turned away with a movement of pique and ill defined jealousy, entering into apparently interesting conversation with a very pretty girl who stood near him. At the moment when Selina came near enough to overhear what he was saying, he was busily employed in making gallant apologies to his new friend for not having called upon her, though he acknowledged he had been six weeks in town.

However he could not long keep his resolution, and he again turned to speak to his "heart's best love;" but a pang had shot through Selina's soul, as she had learned from his own lips that he had been so long in town, and recollected that he had never called in Portman-square. She therefore returned his address with a cold politeness, far, far different from what her manner to him once had been; and advanced to meet Lady Eltondale, who at that moment was bringing up Lord Osselstone to introduce to her. His Lordship, at the request of the Viscountess, led Selina towards the music-room, where the rest of the musical performers were waiting to accompany her in her formidable undertaking. The harp was to be her first exhibition, and the poor girl, intimidated by the presence of so numerous an audience, and agitated by her rencontre with Mordaunt, could scarcely bring her trembling fingers to touch the strings with any degree of tolerable accuracy. But Lord Osselstone stood beside her, and the calm and dignified support with which he endeavoured to encourage her, assisted her in regaining some degree of composure. As she advanced in her performance, her eye caught the impassioned glance of Mordaunt, and her anxiety to exhibit to him her newly acquired accomplishment lent her an unexpected force, which enabled her to go through the fiery trial beyond her most sanguine expectation. Her playing was of course applauded many degrees beyond its real merit; but she quickly retreated from the flattery that at that moment was indifferent to her. Her eyes instinctively sought Mordaunt's with an anxious, timid, almost beseeching look. His rested on her beautiful countenance with an expression no less unequivocal, and for once they read aright each other's soul; and many months, nay years passed away, before that mutual glance was obliterated from the mind of either. Several minutes elapsed before Augustus could make his way up to Selina, so closely was she surrounded by the unregarded throng; but when he did reach her, one short sentence expressed his delighted surprise at her new acquirement. "Do you think dear aunt Mary will be pleased too?" whispered Selina. Before he could give any answer to this simple query, gratifying as it doubly was by the sympathy it accidentally expressed to his feelings at the moment, Lady Eltondale approached, and applauded, in the strongest terms, her niece's performance. "Have you also learned to sing, Selina?" said Augustus, as he turned over the loose music that lay on the piano forte. Lady Eltondale hastily replied, with a slight emphasis, "Miss Seymour practises Italian music constantly:—Frederick will find, on his return, good singing is not confined to Italy." A cold weight fell on Augustus's heart;—the visions of happiness, that an instant before had fleeted over his mind, vanished like a charm. He gave a deep sigh, and, seemingly without design, turned towards Selina a duet that caught his eye. It was Mozart's arrangement of Metastasio's beautiful words:—

Selina read the couplet, and casting her eyes over the following verse, coloured deeply at the application she involuntarily made of it. Lady Eltondale, who in the mean time had narrowly watched her changing countenance, roused her from her reverie by introducing to her at that moment Lord George Meredith, who was one of the young men who had been loudest in Miss Seymour's praise. His compliments were now however disregarded, as Selina looked anxiously round for Mordaunt—but he had disappeared. She fancied he had retired to one of the adjoining rooms, and made many excuses not only to her companions, but even to herself, for restlessly sauntering through them all. Sometimes she recollected she had left her fan behind; another time she persuaded herself Lady Eltondale wanted her;—but still the object she really sought was not to be found. By degrees she became painfully convinced he was actually gone. "It is very odd he should go away so abruptly," thought she; "I had a thousand things to say to him about aunt Mary." And then a confused idea occurring, that the pretty flirting girl, she had seen him talking to, had said something about going to a ball after Lady Eltondale's party, she mechanically retraced her steps, and finding she too had departed, a sickening depression came over her, and she retired to the boudoir to recover herself. But she was not long permitted to rest in peace:—Sir James Fenton, who, led by Lady Eltondale, entered the room laughing with all the exaggerated action that became his character, though not his figure, exclaimed, "Where is the Syren? Where is the goddess of the night?" Then on perceiving Selina, he resigned the arm of the Viscountess with a low bow, and singing with ludicrous tone and gesture, "Dove sei amato bene," advanced to Miss Seymour, who, half dragged, half led, was re-conducted to the music-room.

But the feeling which had supported her in her last effort was now no more. The duet, of which Mademoiselle Omphalie had loudly boasted, was to commence, and Selina exerted herself to the utmost in its execution; but her voice faltered, and before she got half way through it, she burst into tears. Her distress, which was thus evidently unfeigned, now made her nearly as many friends as her charms had before procured her admirers; while Lady Eltondale easily persuaded every body except herself, that it could only arise from timidity, and therefore forbore to join the general request that the effort might be renewed; while Sir James exclaimed, in all the hyperbole of compliment,

Meantime Lord. Osselstone had advanced towards Selina, and there was always something so dignified in his appearance, that those who did not know him involuntarily made way for him; and all those who were acquainted with him did so mechanically. He at first addressed the trembling girl in the language of compliment, but finding her real agitation was not to be soothed by the sovereign balm of flattery, he gradually turned the conversation on Mrs. Galton. Her eyes then beamed with gratitude for his praise, which she believed could not then be insincere; and in her tell-tale countenance and artless expressions, he read a heart not yet practised in the world's wiles. The company began to separate before their conversation ended; and as Selina, on her wakeful pillow, recalled to her mind this evening of promised pleasure, she sighed to think, that those few calm moments she had passed with Lord Osselstone were the only ones, on which she could reflect with any tranquillity.