"Is it," answered Lady Lansmere, evading the question--"is it because one is an heiress and the other is not that you make so marked a difference in your own manner to the two; treating Violante as a spoiled child, and Miss Digby as"-- "The destined wife of Lord L'Estrange, and the daughter-in-law of Lady Lansmere--yes." The Countess suppressed an impatient exclamation that rose to her lips, for Harley's brow wore that serious aspect which it rarely assumed save when he was in those moods in which men must be soothed, not resisted. And after a pause he went on--"I am going to leave you to-day. I have engaged apartments at the Clarendon. I intend to gratify your wish, so often expressed, that I should enjoy what are called the pleasures of my rank, and the privileges of single-blessedness--celebrate my adieu to celibacy, and blaze once more, with the splendour of a setting sun, upon Hyde Park and May Fair." "You are a positive enigma. Leave our house, just when you are betrothed to its inmate! Is that the natural conduct of a lover?" "How can your woman eyes be so dull, and your woman heart so obtuse?" answered Harley, half-laughing, half-scolding. "Can you not guess that I wish that Helen and myself should both lose the association of mere ward and guardian; that the very familiarity of our intercourse under the same roof almost forbids us to be lovers; that we lose the joy to meet, and the pang to part. Don't you remember the story of the Frenchman, who for twenty years loved a lady, and never missed passing his evenings at her house. She became a widow. 'I wish you joy,' cried his friend; 'you may now marry the woman you have so long adored.' 'Alas,' said the poor Frenchman, profoundly dejected; 'and if so, where shall I spend my evenings?'" Here Violante and Helen were seen in the garden, walking affectionately, arm in arm. "I don't perceive the point of your witty, heartless anecdote," said Lady Lansmere, obstinately. "Settle that, however, with Miss Digby. But, to leave the very day after your friend's daughter comes as a guest!--what will _she_ think of it?" Lord L'Estrange looked steadfastly at his mother. "Does it matter much what she thinks of me?--of a man engaged to another; and old enough to be--" "I wish to Heaven you would not talk of your age, Harley; it is a reflection upon mine; and I never saw you look so well nor so handsome." With that, she drew him on towards the young ladies; and, taking Helen's arm, asked her, aside, "if she knew that Lord L'Estrange had engaged rooms at the Clarendon; and if she understood why?" As, while she said this she moved on, Harley was left by Violante's side. "You will be very dull here, I fear, my poor child," said he. "Dull! But why _will_ you call me child? Am I so very--very childlike?" "Certainly, you are to me--a mere infant. Have I not seen you one; have I not held you in my arms?" VIOLANTE.--"But that was a long time ago!"