of her precious time, if made, should be made effectually, and thereföre passed by Constance, though her experienced eye perceived with half a glance that she was looking splendidly beautiful in the elegant carriage costume prepared for the Park, and approaching Mrs. Hartley with extended hand, and a cordiality of mien nicely proportioned to the rude neglect which was intended to follow, she paid her compliments with an energy of civility that seemed almost affectionate.

Though Mrs. Hartley understood her ladyship's game indifferently well, and was but little if at all deceived by the flattering appearance of this unexpected greeting, she was herself too skilful a player to lose the possible advantages which might arise from it, and became as silvery smooth as a lake in sunshine, preparing herself to utter exactly as many agreeable things as her visiter would be so obliging as to listen to.

But these were not many. Having endured the waste of a minute and a half in listening to something about having "seen her from Sir James Ridley's box at the Opera, looking so remarkably well," during which, however, she found time to perform as much bowing as she deemed needful towards the Misses Hartley, Lady Dort rose from the seat assigned to her by Mrs. Hartley, and, in her usual energetic style of doing and saying, darted across the room to Constance, and seizing her hand, exclaimed, " My sweet new friend! the eye not dimmed yet by the fatigue of meeting thousands of admiring glances! But how you will hate me for coming at such a moment! I see inscribed on every flower and on every plume the Park! the Park !” and she looked round upon the party, who were all, in fact, except Penelope, prepared for a drive.

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"But how is this?" she cried, looking from one to the other, and counting them all upon her fingers; one, two, three, four! Four bonnets for one carriage! My dearest Mrs. Hartley, what an angelic being you must be! But it is absolutely impossible that any one possessing a carriage, and not possessing a heart composed of flint, marble, and adamant, can witness such a sacrifice of yourself for the gratification of others, without stepping forward to prevent it. Wherefore I, not being of a nature so detestable, do forthwith offer myself to aid and assist in putting a stop to proceedings which must end in a total discomfiture of patience and best bonnets. You shall come with me, love," she added, taking the arm of Constance, and placing it within her own; " and perhaps, some other beau jour, Mrs. Hartley, if I bring you back to her safely, will entrust one of her own charming daughters to my care. Chi sa ?"

Did not Lady Dort understand well what she was about? O yes! she did. That final stroke was masterly. Mrs. Hartley was very decidedly of those qui ne donne rien pour rien; and as she was vastly well inclined to show off Constance in the Park herself, there could not be a shadow of doubt that she would have found means to prevent Lady Dort's purpose taking effect, had not this sugar-plum of an invitation to one of her daughters been held out to her. It was, in fact, irresistible; her prophetic eye at once saw the possibility of hitching the circumstance into a paragraph for the Morning Post, and in an instant the arrangement was concluded by her saying, in her

most light and lively manner, " An immense improvement certainly, dear Lady Dort, to our order of march; and my lasses, I assure you, will live upon the hope of some day or other enjoying the same delightful privilege you are now going to bestow upon their friend Constance. But must your ladyship go directly?"

"O yes, instantly, dear lady!" replied the bluest of England's belles, and without further ceremony nodded a farewell to the rest of the party, hurried Constance out of the room, called for " Lady Dort's carriage" with her own sublime lungs, and considerably before Mrs. Hartley and her daughters had recovered from the startling effect of her sudden entrance and more sudden exit, she was composedly rolling along with Constance by her side, complimenting herself both upon her dexterity and the value of the prize she had won.

"Obtain the chariot for a day,

And set the town on fire!"

she exclaimed, laughing. "How very barbarous it would have been, my dearest Miss Ridley, to let you make your first appearance in the Park in that most detestable envelopement a double close carriage, and surrounded too with a whole forest of feathers and flowers! Are you not very much obliged to me?"

For a country girl, Constance was not dull. She remembered that, despite all Penelope's croaking, she might, under the auspices of Lady Dort, be permitted to see the golden gates of Apollo's temple thrown open, and listen from the porch to the inspired voices within; so, without a moment's hesitation, she gracefully bent her very beautiful head, and replied, with much unction, "I am indeed!"

"Charming!" cried Lady Dort. "O, we shall be the very dearest of friends! I read it in the stars-that is, in your eyes, bellissima! And now tell me all about it-all about everything, I mean. Have you been long intimate with this family?"

"Do you mean Mrs. Hartley's family?" said Constance, smiling. "Yes, my dear, I believe so. But why do you throw yourself so much into the corner? Do, pray, my love, look about you a little. It is a lovely day. Everybody that is not hideous is looking beautiful. But though I never fail to appear at the proper time and season, it is impossible to deny that a fine face is sadly thrown away here. I believe we are all apt to think a little of what we ourselves possess, and I do sometimes feel that it is rather provoking to be placed so exactly upon an equality with all the humpy-dumpys. But in this misfortune we are equal, my dear Miss Ridley. You have a very fine form, really a very fine form-that is, considering you are so very young a person-just a little too much en bon point, perhaps, about the bust, but it is possible this may mend as you grow older. Mercy on me! look how that unruly beast rears! By the gracious moon I swear, Miss Ridley, that if that fine young man is killed, his untimely death must rest upon your head, for all these capers and curvetings-ces cabrioles et ces courbettes questi salti e corvette-all and every of them are caused by you, and you alone! Saw you not how his eyes were fixed upon you as he thoughtlessly drew up his rein, and buried his spur in the foaming flank of his destriero? O ciel! what a plunge!"

During this series of exclamations, the plumed head of Lady Dort was protruded for the most part from the side-window, so that it was only at intervals, as she drew it back again to rehearse her agonies from time to time to her companion, that Constance received the alarming intelligence they conveyed. At length, however, her ladyship fell back, apparently exhausted both in mind and body by her exertions, and, drawing a long breath, exclaimed, "There! now he is talking to Lady Elizabeth Peveril, so I suppose that for the moment he is safe; but for mercy's sake, my fair friend, have a care, should he again address himself towards our lurking-place, not so to ensconce yourself as to hazard the loss of life and limb to one so comely, by making it necessary that his steed should stand on tip-toe in order that he may get a sight of you."

Constance laughed and said, "The gentleman seems to be a skilful rider, Lady Dort; I do not think his life would be endangered, even if we were half to draw down the blinds."

"Ah, c'est ça-Tu est moqueuse, ma belle?-J'en suis enchantée. It is such a relief, my dear love, to find a few delicate thorns among the roses that nous autres take so much delight in selecting from the nursery-beds, placing in a golden vase, and setting on high to be bowed to by all beholders! Henceforth let the peevish almanac say what it may, the day that brought you to me shall be a red letter day in my calendar. O, I am so thankful that you are satirical!"

"I shall be sorry to disappoint you, Lady Dort," replied Constance, shaking her head and looking greatly ashamed of herself, "but I do not believe that I am in the least degree satirical."

"Bah! Laissez-moi faire, carissima! I intend to be immensely intimate with you; and therefore, if you will just sit easily and gracefully forward, so as to be seen, but with your charming eyes fixed on me, instead of on that rabble rout of noble cavaliers, who would each one give a golden spur to catch a glance from them—if you will just do this, and listen to me, I will put you a little au fait as to myself, and then we shall start fair; for no character, whether male or female, however ingeniously enveloped in the tortuous drapery of disguise, can escape my piercing discernment-I was born with it, pretty one, and may not throw it aside, if I would. In telling you this, observe, I am only fulfilling my promise; I am only permitting you to know me as I know you; there will be no vain boasting in what I shall say of myself, for, in honest truth, I do believe that I am the most unegotistical soul alive! I do know, indeed, that there be things accounted graces in me, for the which I thank not the gods. But why seek to change what is inevitable in me, and that, too, when there is so fair reason to believe that my fellow-wanderers in this world of whim approve it? I allude, fair friend, to such peculiarities of thought or phrase as in some sort place me apart and separate me from the herd. All this was born with me, and I do but submit to the decree of Heaven when I seek not to change it."

"I hope she is not absolutely mad," thought Constance, looking at her with a glance that had, perhaps, something of fear in it. "Charming creature!" exclaimed Lady Dort, in answer to this

look.

"How well I read all that is passing in your mind! I think

you feel disposed to love me, indeed I feel certain of it; but, at the same time, there is a pretty mixture of timidity in the sensations with which you contemplate a being so greatly unlike all you have known before! But fear nothing, carina. Use lessens marvel-you will get accustomed to me; and, besides, perfect love, you know, casteth out fear. I intend that you shall love me perfectly, and then all that is wild and wondrous in me will seem to your fertile eyes but as a charm de plus. Au reste, ma belle, it is but fair that I should tell you, sans façon et sans detour, that I am unique and alone in the power I possess of bringing you acquainted with all that is best worth knowing in London. What say you then-shall we swear an eternal friendship?"

That her new acquaintance was "wild and wondrous," Constance was quite as fully convinced as the lady herself could be; but she remembered with undiminished interest the personages by whom she had seen her surrounded, and felt that the last boast uttered was no vain one. Penelope was too much in love, she thought, to judge fairly as to what did and what did not constitute the chief charm of society; and with the same fresh feelings of eager longing to approach what was celebrated that she had brought to London with her, she replied, "It is impossible, Lady Dort, to thank you enough for your kindness; your acquaintance must be equally an honour and a pleasure to me." "Bon! That little affair is settled then, and most entirely to my satisfaction, I assure you. Will you dine with me to-day, my dear? My Sunday dinners are never large, ma scelti scelti."

For half an instant Constance doubted whether Mrs. Hartley might not be offended by her accepting this invitation without consulting her; but she recollected, in time to utter a very gracious and graceful affirmative, first, that her answer at the moment must be definitive ; secondly, that she had reached the blessed age of independence; and, thirdly, that her hostess had most happily permitted her to take out the freedom of her mansion for the sum of three hundred pounds, the having paid which had already been a matter of considerable satisfaction on more occasions than one, but was now felt to be a greater comfort than ever.

"And now then, chiefly that I may set it in my prayers,' tell me your name," said Lady Dort, adding, with an affectionate squeeze of the hand, "I detest having for ever to call a lovely yonng friend Miss anything."

"Constance," replied the young lady, smiling; "and fortunately I 'break no hest to say so."

"O, what a comfort !" cried her ladyship, assuming with both eyes and hands an attitude of thanksgiving. "You have no idea what a persecution it is when people stare as if they thought one mad, because they know not where one's words and phrases come from. But behold! here comes a knight worthy of a glance from those bright eyes, my Constance."

As she spoke, a gentleman reined up his horse by the side of the carriage, and, resting his hand on the frame of the window which was let down on the side next Lady Dort, said, in a voice unknown to Constance, "I hope I see Lady Dort and Miss Ridley well?"

On hearing her own name, Constance turned her eyes for a moment on the speaker, and bowed in reply to his salutation, and as she did so, a dim sort of recollection came across her that she had seen him before, but where or when she knew not. Yet neither the figure nor the features of the young man were such as are usually looked at only to be forgotten. Had Constance at that moment been fancy-free, she must perforce have confessed that he was not only the handsomest man she had ever seen, but beyond all comparison the most graceful, both in person and manner. But instead of making any such avowal to herself, her restive thoughts perversely turned to Henry Mortimer; for she remembered that it was while he had been still beside her that Lady Dort had presented this gentleman to her as Mr. something or other-she knew not what, for then, as now, she would have gladly banished him to the antipodes for ever, could she thereby have ensured the vicinity of Mortimer for five minutes.

As this thought occurred, her eyes naturally turned away from the young man with that absent look which eyes assume when the object upon which our thoughts are occupied is within, and then it was that the observant Lady Dort, perceiving that there was a shadow of chagrin on the fine features of the horseman, and thinking that she could put her new-formed friendship to no better purpose than that of propitiating the distinguished individual at her side, exclaimed, with her usual animated earnestness,

"Mr. Fitzosborne! Dine with me to-day. You shall not say me nay-positively you shall not. I can hardly call it a dinner-party, however, that I ask you to join; my friend, Miss Ridley, and half a dozen more perhaps, make up our host. You know the strict laws of attic dining-the number must neither be less than the graces, nor more than the muses. I never transgress this law on a Sunday; I think it is wrong not to pay some attention to the convenience of one's servants on that day. A little knot of friends may dine together without any great fuss; and as I never name an hour later than eight on Sunday, I flatter myself that, either before or after, all my people, or very nearly all, may be able to attend divine worship. C'est une affaire fixée, n'est pas ? I may expect you at eight?"

Mr. Fitzosborne replied that he should have much pleasure in waiting upon her, and rode on.

"Eh bien, ma chere, what do you think of him? Mr. Fitzosborne is not only the handsomest man in London, but unquestionably the first parti as yet unappropriated. He has been three years abroad, and this is the first season since his return. What do you think of

him ?"

Why, as I am not quite sure that I ever saw him before, Lady Dort, I hardly feel competent to pass judgment on him. He is certainly very handsome," replied Constance.

"It needs no ghost to tell us that, my dear. Mr. Fitzosborne is perfect-O, perfect! with a palace of a place, a perfect Eden in Monmouthshire, and, à ce qu'on dit, twenty thousand a year."

But Lady Dort addressed herself to ears more deaf than those of any adder that ever crawled; for directly before the eyes of Constance