Beneath the other drawing, was a Greek inscription. They were slight sketches, and the figures were small; one of them had an air of Fitzhenry not to be mistaken by her who knew his every look and gesture. The other was a female figure. Emmeline’s eyes were rivetted on the drawings; she could not doubt who, and what they represented; some days of peculiar enjoyment, some tender moments were thus recalled, and poor Emmeline’s spirit groaned within her. On the mantle-piece, lay Fitzhenry’s pencil-case, pocket-book, and several of those sort of trifles that seem so intimately connected with the person to whom they belong. Emmeline had a gratification in taking them in her hand, and examining them minutely: at last, she found a small turquoise brooch which she had often observed in his neck-handkerchief; it had apparently been originally meant for a woman’s ornament. Emmeline had on one almost exactly similar. The temptation to exchange them was too strong to be resisted—with trembling fingers she undid her own pin; but again carefully examined Fitzhenry’s, for fear of his detecting the exchange. At the back of his, in small letters, she saw “Firenze,” but they were almost worn away; her courage however nearly failed her, although she thought she might contrive to scratch something on her own broach to resemble the inscription, but, just at that minute, Lady Saville, who had finished her book of caricatures, and looked at every thing in the room, coming up, proposed their proceeding to the rest of the house—Emmeline almost started with the embarrassment of guilt: she had no time for further doubt, she hastily threw down on the marble-slab her own brooch, and carried off her husband’s. Almost terrified at what she had done, when they met in the drawing-room before dinner, she looked anxiously at Fitzhenry’s handkerchief, but, when he turned towards the light, she had the satisfaction to see her own pin placed as usual, and, consequently, that he had not discovered her robbery. To those who may be inclined to think the feelings of Emmeline on such a trifle exaggerated, we have only to say, that proving themselves never to have been _in love_ we can no more attempt to speak to their feelings than to describe colours to a person born blind. Delighted and elated with her prize, poor Emmeline’s spirits rose above their now usual state, and when, after dinner, Lady Saville declared she wanted exercise to get rid of a headache, and proposed dancing, Emmeline readily forwarded her wish and offered her service as musician. Every one willingly acquiesced, and they soon made up a quadrille. Fitzhenry and Mr. Pelham were the only two who did not join in the dance, but continued standing over the fire, seemingly engaged in very earnest conversation. When the quadrille was ended, Emmeline played a waltz; this was still less to be resisted, and the whole party immediately swung round the room.