A flash of her own bright smile instantly re-illumined her features; and afterwards, in the middle of one of Camporese’s beautiful songs, it glanced again over her countenance, for she saw Fitzhenry enter the room, and, for an instant, caught his eyes fixed upon her. But the song over, and after the general stir and bustle that usually follows, she looked for him in vain. The crowd was now every minute thickening, and with difficulty Emmeline forced herself to address to each those common-place remarks which always equally weary those who make them, and those to whom they are made. She restlessly went from room to room on some excuse to herself as well as others, but her search was vain—he was gone! At once the bright scene totally changed! although the music was beautiful, and the buzz of gaiety and happiness went round. Poor Emmeline, alone in the scene of enjoyment which she had herself created, was wretched. Gladly she at length saw her visitors depart, and the rooms gradually become empty; for her spirits, which had been so unusually excited, were totally exhausted, and her only object now was, the conclusion of that evening to which she had looked with such bright expectation. Lady Saville and Pelham remained the last. “Well, my dear Lady Fitzhenry,” said the former, “I staid to the end purposely to congratulate you on the full success of your _soirées_; nothing could have gone off better than they have done; every one declares that nobody understands the matter so well as Lady Fitzhenry. I wonder where you learnt the art,” said she, as she looked, with a complimentary smile, into Emmeline’s face. On that face, tears were slowly, and almost unconsciously stealing down. “Good heavens! Lady Fitzhenry!” exclaimed Lady Saville, “what is the matter?” “Nothing,” said Emmeline, provoked at her weakness: “but however well I may do the honours of my house, it is a fatigue to which I am new, and perfectly unequal. I have had a bad headache all day; and I find the trouble of being agreeable so much greater than the reward, that however delightful my parties may be, I shall attempt them no more.” Poor Emmeline spoke in the impatient tone of vexation and disappointment—a tone so unusually heard from her lips, that Lady Saville looked at her astonished. “How very foolish!” she exclaimed, “when nothing of the sort, I am sure, could succeed better, and when you ought to be so pleased and flattered by the general pleasure you have produced. In your place, I should be quite delighted; and then to give it all up merely because you happen at this minute to feel a little tired and exhausted, particularly when you seemed to enjoy it all so much yourself, as I am sure you did only an hour ago. What is it that has gone wrong to make you change your mind so suddenly?”