The arrival of the St. Aubyns in London opened a wide field for conjecture and conversation in the fashionable world. It was known, for St. Aubyn's haughty relations had not failed to publish it, that he had married a young woman far inferior to him in rank, and absolutely without fortune. It was also known that she was uncommonly beautiful; and great anxiety, mixed with no small share of ridicule, was excited by her expected debut; but the modest Ellen was in no haste to afford the starers and sneerers so rich a treat: she merely went to a few morning exhibitions, attended only by her Lord, for the first fortnight of her stay in town; and indeed St. Aubyn hoped, notwithstanding her present distance and displeasure, to induce his aunt, Lady Juliana Mordaunt, to chaperon Ellen to some of the public places, being fully sensible what an advantage it would be to her to be so supported: he therefore acquiesced in her wishes, till he could bring about this desirable arrangement, and allowed his wife to spend most of her evenings at home.

Several ladies had however called on Lady St. Aubyn, some of whom had left their cards, and others she had seen. Most of these visits she had returned; but one of those, who had shewn the greatest desire to see more of Lady St. Aubyn—indeed, a distant relation of the Earl's, she had not been yet to see.

One morning Lord St. Aubyn said he would go with her to see the museum of an old friend of his, who lived at Knightsbridge, who was a great collector of every thing rare and curious, particularly shells, pictures, and gems. "He is quite a character," added he: "but I will not anticipate your surprize: we can go there early. I told him we would go to-day, or to-morrow; and after we have been there, you can call on Lady Meredith, who gave herself a trouble so extraordinary, as actually to alight from her carriage and make you a personal visit."

"You will go with me?"

"Pardon me, my love, that is not necessary, and you really must learn to go alone, and not depend so much on me."

"I hope her Ladyship may not be at home."

"Indeed, my love, I hope she may; for dissimilar as they are in every respect, my aunt, Lady Juliana, spends a great deal of her time there. She is so fond of finding fault, and differing in opinion from others, that I really believe she goes to Lady Meredith's chiefly for the pleasure of lecturing her, who is so indifferent to the opinion of any one, that she does not think it worth while to be at the trouble of resenting the sharp things Lady Juliana says to her."

"What a strange motive for being intimate with any one."

"Strange enough: but when you see more of the world, you will discern that affection is not the only bond of union between those who call themselves friends."

"I think I have seen that already in Mrs. Dawkins and Miss Alton."

"True: convenience, the wish of finding a patient hearer, accident, the want of a more pleasing companion, are amongst the numerous inducements which form what we are pleased to call friendship. Nay, I once heard a good lady say she was sure a family she mentioned had proved themselves real friends to her, for they had sent her a large plumcake[A]."

Ellen laughed at this curious definition of friendship.

"Well," said St. Aubyn: "but to return to Lady Meredith. I hope she may, by reporting well of you to Lady Juliana, induce her to become more friendly towards us: you know how anxious I am to have you in her good graces—not, believe me, on account of her immense fortune, but because, with all her pride and stiffness, she has a warm heart and excellent qualities, and would be to you a most valuable friend; so pray do your best to please Lady Meredith."

"Very well: but will you tell me the most likely way to succeed?"

"I am afraid it will be difficult: she will think you too handsome, unless indeed she intends soon to have a large party.""How is it possible that should have any thing to do with the matter?"

"Why, Lady Meredith's great ambition is to outshine all her competitors in the number and fashion of those collected at her routes; and as sometimes, in spite of her charms, and the lustre of her abundant jewels, there are some obstinate animals who will be uncivil enough to recollect they 'have seen them before,' consequently become rather weary of them, and desert her for some newer belle. Lady Meredith may think you (so new to the world, and so beautiful) a desirable reinforcement, and may therefore honour you with an invitation: pray accept it, if she does, and take great pains at your toilette to-day: for my friend, Mr. Dorrington, is a great admirer of beauty, and will shew you his fine collection a great deal more readily if he admire your's, particularly if he should fancy you like a bust he has of the bona Dea (at least he gives it that name, though it is so mutilated, he confesses he does not exactly know for what or whom it was designed), which he almost idolizes."

Ellen hastened to obey, but she wished herself at Castle St. Aubyn, for she had not liked the little she had seen of Lady Meredith, and she shrunk from the idea of this formidable morning visit. Conquering her fears, however, as well as she could, and looking uncommonly beautiful, she rejoined her Lord. Her milliner had just sent home a most elegant and expensive morning dress, bonnet, and cloak, all of the finest materials, and in that delicate modest style, which she always chose, and was to her peculiarly becoming. St. Aubyn thought he had never seen her look so well, and gave great credit to Madame de —— for consulting so admirably the natural style of her beauty, as to embellish, without overloading it. The barouche was at the door: she had therefore only time to say "farewell" to Laura, and stepping hastily in, half an hour brought them to Mr. Dorrington's.

As the carriage stopt at the house, the figure of a fine old man with grey hair caught the eye of Lady St. Aubyn: he was at the instant ascending the steps to knock at the door, and was so meanly dressed, that she supposed him a mendicant, or at least extremely poor, and her ready hand sought her purse, intending to give relief to the infirm looking old man. What then was her surprize, when, just as she stretched out her hand for that purpose, the old man, looking into the carriage, and seeing Lord St. Aubyn, advanced, and taking off his hat with the most courtly air imaginable, displayed a fine commanding forehead, expressive eyes, and a contour of countenance so admirable, as, once seen, could never be forgotten.

"Ah! my dear St. Aubyn," he exclaimed, "how rejoiced I am to see you! I am really happy that I returned in time to receive you: as you did not say positively you would come to-day, it was all a chance; but come, do me the favour to alight: I have just succeeded in making the finest purchase—a shell, a unique: you shall see it."

By this time St. Aubyn had alighted, and giving his hand to Ellen, introduced her to this extraordinary man. Nothing could be more polished than his address, nothing more elegant than the grace with which he received her, or more spirited than the little compliment he made St. Aubyn on his happiness, and the beauty of his lady.

Whoever looked at Mr. Dorrington, when his shabby old hat was removed, must instantly see the man of sense and superior information: whoever heard him speak, heard instantly that it was the voice and enunciation not only of a gentleman, but of one who had lived in the very highest circles; and yet his appearance, at first, would have led any one to suppose him, as Ellen did, in absolute poverty. He led the way into his favourite apartment, indeed the only one he ever inhabited, except his bed-chamber; and into neither would he ever suffer any one to enter unless he was with them. No broom, nor brush of any kind, ever disturbed the sacred dust of this hallowed retirement: in the grate, the accumulated ashes of many months remained; the windows were dimmed with the untouched dirt of years: and nothing but the table on which his slender meals were spread (for his temperance in eating and drinking were as remarkable as his singular neglect of personal attire), and two or three chairs for the reception of occasional visitors, were ever wiped. In one of these he seated the astonished Ellen, who gazed around her at treasures, the value of which exceeded her utmost guess. A handsome cabinet with glass doors contained a variety of curious gems, vases, and specimens of minerals: some invaluable pictures stood leaning against the walls: heaps of books in rich bindings, which Ellen afterwards found were either remarkable for their scarceness, or full of fine prints, lay scattered around.

"Now, my Lord," said Mr. Dorrington, "I will shew you and Lady St. Aubyn my new purchase: I said it was unique, but it is not exactly so: I have another of the same sort; but these are the only two in the world: I think this is a little, a very little finer than that I had before; I bought it at ****'s sale, and gave a monstrous price for it; but I was determined to have it: it was the only thing in his collection I coveted."

He then displayed his new purchase, and descanted for some time on its various beauties; and seeing Ellen really admired it, pleased also with her beauty and sweetness, he proceeded to shew her his collection, and even those rare articles which never appeared but to particular favourites, saying she was "worthy to admire them." Some beautiful miniatures particularly pleased her, and he was delighted that she seemed to understand their value. He also produced some fine illuminated missals, and explained every thing with so much grace and perspicuity as quite delighted her.

Two hours fled swiftly in examining these wonders, and even then they had not seen half, but promised to visit him another day. He told Lady St. Aubyn he should be at her command at any time; and then most politely attending her to her carriage, he with a courteous bow took his leave.

On their way home, St. Aubyn told Ellen that the extraordinary man they had just left had for many years led a life of dissipation, by which he reduced a large fortune almost to nothing; but that having once, in consequence of his extravagance, been obliged to sell a collection still finer than that he now had, he had determined to gratify his passion for virtu, without the risk of again ruining himself, and therefore denied himself every thing but the bare necessaries of life; and was, consequently, enabled to purchase rare articles at any price, and to outbid other collectors, who had different demands on part of their incomes. He kept no man, and but one female servant; and St. Aubyn said, that when he had called on him a few days before, he found him in a storm of rage with this poor servant-girl, for having dared, while he was engaged with some company in his sitting-room, to brush out his bed-chamber, in the door of which he had, par miracle, left the key.—"And I am sure, Sir," said the girl, crying, "I never touched nothing but that great wooden man" (meaning a layman which always stands in Mr. Dorrington's room), "that's enough to frighten a body; and he I only just moved, for master never won't have nothing like other people; and I thought if he brought the gentlefolks in his bed-room, as he sometimes will, it was a shame to see such a place, and such a dirty table cover; so I was only just going to make it a little tidy, and I never broke nothing at all."

"I comforted the poor girl," said St. Aubyn, "by giving her a trifle, and advised her by no means to provoke her master, by presuming to touch a brush in his rooms again without order: and she promised me she would in future be contented with cleaning her own kitchen and passages—'And never touch nothing belonging to master's rooms, nor any of them outlandish things, that be all full of dust, and enough to breed moths and all manner of flies all over the house.'——And I think," said he, laughing, "she appears to have kept her promise very exactly."