With one of those interesting looks which revealed the anxiety of his heart, and yet with that graceful restraint of all gesticulation, for which he was remarkable, even in his most anxious concerns, he addressed Lady Evans, who had called on Mrs. Horton to hear and to request the news of the day: “Your Ladyship was at Bath last spring—you know the young lady to whom I have the honour of being appointed guardian. Pray,”— He was earnestly intent upon asking a question, but was prevented by the person interrogated. “Dear Mr. Dorriforth, do not ask me any thing about Miss Milner—when I saw her she was very young: though indeed that is but three months ago, and she can’t be much older now.” “She is eighteen,” answered Dorriforth, colouring with regret at the doubts which this lady had increased, but not inspired. “And she is very beautiful, that I can assure you,” said Lady Evans. “Which I call no qualification,” said Dorriforth, rising from his chair in evident uneasiness. “But where there is nothing else, let me tell you, beauty is something.” “Much worse than nothing, in my opinion,” returned Dorriforth. “But now, Mr. Dorriforth, do not from what I have said, frighten yourself, and imagine your ward worse than she really is—all I know of her, is merely, that she’s young, idle, indiscreet, and giddy, with half a dozen lovers in her suite; some coxcombs, others men of gallantry, some single, and others married.” Dorriforth started. “For the first time of my life,” cried he with a manly sorrow, “I wish I had never known her father.” “Nay,” said Mrs. Horton, who expected every thing to happen just as she wished, (for neither an excellent education, the best company, or long experience had been able to cultivate or brighten this good lady’s understanding,) “Nay,” said she, “I am sure, Mr. Dorriforth, you will soon convert her from all her evil ways.” “Dear me,” returned Lady Evans, “I am sure I never meant to hint at any thing evil—and for what I have said, I will give you up my authors if you please; for they were not observations of my own; all I do is to mention them again.” The good-natured Miss Woodley, who sat working at the window, an humble, but an attentive listener to this discourse, ventured here to say exactly six words: “Then don’t mention them any more.” “Let us change the subject,” said Dorriforth. “With all my heart,” cried Lady Evans; “and I am sure it will be to the young lady’s advantage.” “Is Miss Milner tall or short?” asked Mrs. Horton, still wishing for farther information. “Oh, tall enough of all conscience,” returned she; “I tell you again that no fault can be found with her person.” “But if her mind is defective”—exclaimed Dorriforth, with a sigh—— “That may be improved as well as the person,” cried Miss Woodley. “No, my dear,” returned Lady Evans, “I never heard of a pad to make straight an ill-shapen disposition.”