How many fruitless beatings of the heart there are in the world! Whether it be from fear, anxiety, agitation, hope, anger, love, hatred, that beating of the heart is one of the most vain and useless operations which any part of the human frame performs. The heart of Chandos Winslow beat very idly at the door of General Tracy's house, in Green-street. He fancied that in about a minute and a half he would be in the presence of Rose Tracy, he painted to himself her looks, he seemed to hear her words; but when he found himself in the drawing-room, the General was there alone; and the very simple words, "Bring dinner," which were uttered as soon as he entered, showed him as plainly as if the General had spoken an oration, that he and his host were to dine tête-à-tête. He felt a good deal disappointed; but he did not suffer his mortification to appear; and in about ten minutes he was seated at the hospitable board and partaking of a very excellent, though plain dinner. The wines were all exceedingly good, though not very various; and Sherry, of the best vintage, Madeira, which had twice seen the Cape, with Oporto, which had lived as wine in part of two centuries, supplied well the place of Champagne, of Claret, and of Burgundy. The General suffered the meal to pass by, and also the two first glasses of wine after dinner, without touching upon anything which had a business tone in it. Chandos found that Rose, Emily, and Mr. Tracy had moved during the preceding day to that gentleman's house, in Berkeley-square. "There is a great deal to be done there," said General Tracy; "and it is well that they should be on the spot." Some short time after dinner, came one of those pauses which are generally produced by a slight feeling of embarrassment on both parts. Chandos was not sure whether General Tracy expected him to begin upon the subject nearest his heart, or not; and the General himself, though a very brave and determined man in most matters, shrunk a little from the commencement of a conversation, in the course of which he felt that pain might be given to one whom he liked and esteemed. At length he forced himself to the task; and, after putting over the decanter to his guest, and rubbing his right temple for a moment, he said, "Your friend, Sir ----, made an admirable defence for you, Winslow. I could only have wished that he had omitted a few words about my pretty niece, Rose. I think it was unnecessary, and not altogether judicious."