was a low deep cab, slowly making its way through an intricate entanglement of horsemen, au fond of which cab her eye discovered the recumbent form of Henry Mortimer.

Though it would have been nearly impossible for him, consistently with his ideas of refinement, to have sat in such a carriage in any other attitude than that in which he now reposed, and which as nearly as possible prevented him from seeing any object either to the right or left, it was still evident to Constance that his eyes rolled anxiously in all directions, as if in search of some particular carriage that he was expecting to see.

"Is it possible that he is looking out for Mrs. Hartley?" was the question that she asked herself, and "O, why does he not look this way?" was the thought that followed. In a moment after Lady Dort also descried him, and exclaimed,

"Here comes Mortimer! How bewitching he is with that beautiful wild stare! Isn't he, Constance? O, you must adore my Mortimer, or I shall decidedly leave off adoring you. Lord Dalton has got him to-day, you see. How the charming creature is devoured!"

By this time the impediments to the progress of Lord Dalton's carriage had withdrawn themselves, and in the next moment it was in the act of slowly passing that of Lady Dort. The eye of the poet at this moment recognized the face upon which his entranced thoughts were fixed, and, throwing himself forward, so as to suggest to all beholders the idea that he was about to precipitate himself to the ground, he seized upon Lord Dalton's reins, and suddenly jerking the horse back almost upon its haunches, stopped the carriage, and then balanced himself upon its step while he paid his compliments, in his usual sotto voce tone, to the two ladies.

Oh! stop, John! stop!" shrieked Lady Dort. "This is too perilous, Mr. Mortimer, indeed it is !" and all the line stopped too, in both directions. "No more, no more, I implore you!-remember eight!" And as these last words were accompanied with half a glance and a quarter of a nod towards her companion, the happy poet recovered his seat, restored the reins to the hands of his noble but scolding friend, and permitted himself to be driven onward with unresisting patience, while his heart remained behind at the feet of the beautiful vision who had passed from before his eyes.

As to Constance, as unhappily she had seen neither the glance nor the nod which had conveyed such ecstasy to her adorer, her state was one of the most pitiable uncertainty as to her fate during the hours of that most happy or most wretched evening. Did eight o'clock mean eight o'clock of that day, or of some future one? Gnawing as were the doubt and fear which this uncertainty produced, she dared not attempt to relieve herself from it by asking the simple question, "Does Mr. Mortimer dine with your ladyship to-day?"-no, not for worlds would she have attempted to pronounce it! So, pretending to listen to words which she did not hear, and to admire people whom she did not see, she continued to sit beside her new friend, exactly in the same condition as to pre-occupation in which Mr. Mortimer was sitting by his, each thinking wholly and solely of the other, with only

this difference, that he was revelling in the assured delight of knowing that he was to meet her, while her spirit was wafted to and fro between hope and fear, her heart at one moment fluttering with the consciousness that probability was in her favour, and at another standing still as the fear of being disappointed returned.

"Time and the hour," however, released them both from the restraint they were enduring, and it would be difficult to say which of them was the most rejoiced thereby.

CHAPTER XIV.

A SELECT DINNER-PARTY—A POET AND A POETESS, A PEER AND A PAINTER A-LAMODE AN ENGLISH GENTLEMAN AND AN ENGLISH YOUNG LADY, AND THEIR HOSTESS -GREAT RESULTS FROM LITTLE CAUSES.

The first object of Constance, on entering the house, was to seek Mrs. Hartley, for the purpose of communicating her engagement; but that lady was not yet returned; and as this disagreeable part of the business was of necessity postponed, she enjoyed the pleasure of half an hour's tête-à-tête with Penelope, while her spirits were still in that delightful state of agitation which makes the unreserved relation of the adventures which produced it a luxury.

"Already returned, dear Constance !" said Penelope, raising her eyes from an immeasurably long letter of Markham's, which he had himself contrived to deliver, and which, being very nearly the only one she had ever received, had been read and re-read about a dozen times without having yet lost the zest of novelty.

"Already!" repeated Constance. "I thought I had been gone an immense time."

"I might suspect, from your saying so, that the interval since we parted has been more tedious than long," said Miss Hartley, "but that your smiling aspect and sparkling eyes forbid me to think so."

"My aspect and my eyes would be horribly false," returned Constance, laughing, " did they tell you that I had found the drive tedious, excepting just the last bit of it, perhaps, when I longed to get home and tell you how delighted I had been."

"Then you have been greatly charmed by your companion, I presume. I know very little personally of Lady Dort beyond her appearance, and that is not captivating; but I suppose she is very entertaining?"

"Exceedingly entertaining," said Constance, as gravely as she could, and concealing the lower part of her face, forgetting how heartily her eyes were laughing the while.

"You saucy rustic!" cried Penelope. "Your amusement, I suspect, has been furnished by her ladyship's absurdities."

"O, tempt me not!" replied Constance; "I do assure you she is the most obliging person I ever met in my life, and knows not only how to will, but to do, the most agreeable things in the world. I must and will feel grateful to her; so I entreat you, dearest Penelope, not to seduce me into the baseness of laughing at her. I dare say we are all of us ridiculous in our different ways, only you know we never take notice of what we are used to."

"Thank you a thousand times, my dear old friend, for my share of that generous effusion. But now let us descend to particulars. What has Lady Dort done to bewitch you into a fit of such selfdenying philosophy? Has she invited you to meet Mr. Mortimer at dinner?"

"Avaunt, witch!" cried Constance, turning from her; "I will have no more dealings with you."

"Then it positively is so. Upon my getting on at a prodigiously rapid rate. pressure power at work, that is certain. gine that the petted Mortimer made this self to her ladyship's invitation?"

word, Miss Ridley, you are There must be some high Pray, my dear, do you imaa condition for yielding him

"Good heaven! No. Vous n'y est pas, Penelope. I do not even know for certain that Mr. Mortimer is to be there to-day."

6

"To-day! Are you going to dine with Lady Dort to-day?" exclaimed Miss Hartley with very genuine surprise. "Why, Constance, this is the very crowning top and finish of intimacy. Dine with me to-day, my friend!' uttered all'improviso, in London, is the ne plus ultra of affectionate familiarity."

"Then ought I not to be grateful?" demanded Constance, looking as grave as she could. "Such were, to all intents and purposes, the words addressed to me by this delightful Lady Dort to-day, and my joy and gratitude are equal, both being past expression great. But what will your mother say to it, Penelope? I am terrified at the idea of her making me a speech, beginning My dear Miss Ridley, I am really afraid,'—and so on, up, or rather down, to the heart-breaking assurance that I had better not go."

6

"You have nothing of the kind to fear, I am certain," replied Miss Hartley; "I am sure my mother will be pleased by your making so desirable an acquaintance-unless, indeed," she added, colouring, "there should be any difficulty about the carriage."

"That rock, thank Heaven, is not in the way, Penelope. Lady Dort offered to send her carriage for me, and as I know your mother is going out, I accepted it. Now, tell me, do not you think that if my new friend were actually a skeleton, and embroidered her English with Dutch instead of Italian, that I ought to dote upon her?"

"She certainly appears to be doing everything she can to win your heart. But here comes mamma. Had you not better run up stairs at once, and begin dressing? See-it is past seven. I will undertake to announce your engagement."

Penelope held open the drawing-room door as she spoke, and Constance, feeling more grateful for the offer than she thought it proper to express, passed hastily through it, only saying, "Come to me while I am dressing," and ran up the stairs with a light step and a light heart, just in time to escape the cross-examination which she would have had to undergo, had she lingered a moment longer.

As Constance never made a very long business of dressing, she indulged herself, before she rang for her maid, in a few moments of very delightful solitary meditation upon the new delights that seemed opening before her Could she, amidst the most highly-wrought hopes and wishes in which she had sometimes indulged when wandering

alone in the shady recesses of Appleby, have ever painted to herself anything one half so delightful as a very small select dinner-party at Lady Dort's? And then, too, she knew not that the world contained --she guessed not that the world could contain, a being so every way enchanting as Mortimer. O, she was too, too happy! Yes, he would be there, she felt sure he would be there. Eight o'clock must mean eight o'clock to-day; and then, could she forget the eager action with which he had stopped Lord Dalton's carriage? Did she not know, did she not feel in her heart of hearts, that it was for her?

When Penelope entered, she found her still alone, and enjoying a reverie which would have been cheaply purchased by the sacrifice of many a day of ordinary existence.

"What! no dressing begun yet?" said her friend. ، Constance ! Constance ! this looks very suspicious indeed. I could forgive you, perhaps, if with him conversing you forget all time;' but the merely thinking of him is hardly an excuse, is it, for keeping Lady Dort's carriage and dinner both waiting for you?"

"I shall keep nobody waiting, Penelope," replied the happy girl, gaily throwing aside her paille de riz bonnet in one direction, and her embroidered mantelet in another; "nobody ever waits for me, you know. But, tell me," she continued, as she proceeded to prepare herself for the business of the toilet-" tell me, what said mamma to this proposed escapade? Does she seem to think it wrong that I should go?"

"Wrong! O no, certainly not. She only says you are a very lucky girl to have got on so rapidly."

"Lucky!" repeated Constance; "I have no words to express what I think of my own good fortune; and I am so glad she did not blame me. I know I am very wilful, but yet I do not like to displease any body if I can help it. How glad I am, my dearest Penelope, that you are in love!"

"And, pray, why so?" demanded Miss Hartley, laughing. "That I may keep you in countenance, I suppose."

“ No, indeed. . As I could not love anybody till somebody loves me, I should be vastly too proud of the thing, if ever it did happen, to want any one to give me countenance. No, no; the reason I rejoice in your love, is because I know that it occupies you too entirely to leave you any time to wish for me. Were it otherwise, I should not like to leave you, dear Penelope."

"Yet, were it otherwise, I should rejoice too sincerely at seeing you occupied so exactly as I know you wished to be, to have any room left in my heart for selfish regrets. But positively I must ring for Susan. I will not be aiding and abetting to a careless and hurried toilet on such an occasion as this."

But Constance was neither ill-dressed nor waited for, and moreover found time, before Lady Dort's carriage was announced, to show herself in the drawing-room, and receive the first burst of unmitigated curiosity, and half-approving, half-reproaching wonder from her brother, who, as usual, was stationed there preparatory to the dinner which he almost daily condescended to eat at Mrs. Hartley's. She answered all his questions and all his remarks with such an air of smiling good

humoured indifference, that he could hitch neither reproofs nor reproaches upon her proceeding, and she set off to keep her somewhat envied and completely unexpected engagement, with spirits as bright as her own lustrous eyes.

She found Lady Dort alone in the smallest of her two handsome drawing-rooms, surrounded with books, busts, cameos, fossils, and learned litter of all sorts; but all disarranged with excellent judgment, all provocative of remark and conversation, and only making part of an immense collection, which being brought to view by very skilfully-managed instalments, and in combinations as various as those of the gamut, promised to furnish themes eternally new, even to those who encountered them the most frequently.

"Ben venuta, bellissima!" said her ladyship, rising to meet her, and then standing still to await her approach, as if transfixed by admiration. "Miss Ridley, I delight in you. You are positively formed expressly to be the load-star of such a fastidious little party as I expect to-day. My charming Constance, how can I thank you enough for such sweet pliancy? Had you refused me this day, I never could-no, nor I never would have summoned courage to entreat again. But now, my love, before my pets arrive, I must sketch for your use a little carte du pays. Know, then, that I expect Lady Georgina Grayton, and four men. Voilà tout. Her ladyship is a prodigious verse-writer, wonderful! and, on the whole, much less of a bore than one might expect. Besides, she is exceedingly graceful, though decidedly a little too large. But there is no use in quarrelling with people on that account. Everybody one sees is too large! I really believe that a bust and torso, of classic form, and sufficiently svelte for perfect beauty, is the rarest gift of Heaven. But to return to Lady Georgina: the surest way to win her heart-I do not mean in an amatory sense-her loves, I believe, are chiefly confined to her verses-but as a friend, a partisan, a devouée, is by alluding to her latinity. Remember this, my dear, if for any reason you wish to get on with her. And now then for my men! First in place is my Lord Willoughby. His novels show what he could do, if he chose to address himself in earnest to the achieving a first-rate literary reputation! O, he is a most extraordinary man! Such wit, such fascination-and then his letters! But after all, sweet Constance, I do but waste my praise, for he has arrived at too shady a part of human existence to have any rational hope of enjoying the sunshine of your smiles. Next in station, and far before him, both in fortune and antiquity of race, is Frederic Fitzosborne, the graceful cavalier you saw to-day-the admired of all beholders; and then the poet, the delicious poet, Mortimer. It always seems to me, my dear Miss Ridley, that this charming man must be the natural son of Apollo. Were he legitimately descended from the godhead, he would probably appear on earth with more of those vulgar gifts that are held so precious here. But our Mortimer is neither rich nor noble, excepting in those gifts of soul which lead us to look amidst the aristocracy of heaven for his progenitors. Yet mistake me not; he is not of the mob, even in this, having an independence sufficient for all his wants, and a privileged entrée into every house of