To those who have known the torments of jealousy, I need not describe Emmeline’s feelings; and to those who have not, my expressions would appear exaggerated and unnatural. Like a statue, she sat during the remainder of the opera, not able to attend to any thing around her. Luckily, Lady Saville, who was engaged in a regular flirtation, observed neither her preoccupation, nor additional dejection; and when the curtain fell, Emmeline mechanically followed her companions out of the box. Her complete absence of manner, and Lady Saville’s exclusive attention to him, who was whispering soft nothings in her ear, had so effectually driven away all other visitors, that Emmeline had no one to take charge of her; and Lady Saville and her admirer soon parted from her, the former having found a friend to take her to the usual supper party at Lady L——y’s after the opera; and the latter being too gallant, and too much _épris_ not to accompany her to the carriage, promising, however, to return to Emmeline. At this minute, however, Pelham, luckily observed her, and forcibly making his way up to her, exclaimed, “What here! and alone! I thought I saw strangers in your box, so never went near it; how comes it I find you in this desolate situation? Do take my arm.” Emmeline made no reply; and, soon perceiving that she was more than usually depressed, Pelham, after one two ineffectual efforts, forbore even to speak to her. They made their way towards the door at the top of the great stairs; and, leaving her there, Pelham went to look for her carriage. Emmeline shrunk behind the door, wrapping herself close up in her cloak, and not daring to raise her eyes from the ground for fear of meeting those of her husband, or of Lady Florence. Her own name, however, pronounced close by her, soon roused her, and she saw Mrs. Osterley coming up to speak to her, accompanied by Mr. Moore. “My dear Lady Fitzhenry,” said she, “what an age it is since I have seen you! Where have you been hiding yourself? What can you have been about?” “I have been out of town,” replied Emmeline, in a faint voice. “Oh, yes! I suppose at Easter, of course; but surely you have been returned some weeks; for I have frequently met Lord Fitzhenry: and, by the bye, now I recollect, I heard of you the other evening, at Lady Mowbray’s, where I was so unlucky, as just to miss you; and I was sorry to hear you were taken ill there: I hope you are quite recovered.” “Perfectly so,” said Emmeline, coldly. “How did you like our new opera, to-night?” continued Mrs. Osterley. “I thought it inexpressibly dull; yet, in Paris, I had liked it very much; what did you think of it?” “I?” said Emmeline, absently, “I really don’t know.” “Don’t know? I suppose you mean you have been so agreeably engaged in conversation, that you did not attend,” retorted Mrs. Osterley, laughing. “No one comes to the opera for the music in London.”