While he thus said, we had wandered round the Colonnade, and were in that narrow passage that runs from Piccadilly into Charles Street, in which is situated the more private entrance to the opera; and close by the doors of that entrance, two or three young men were lounging. As Vivian ceased, the voice of one of these loungers came laughingly to our ears. "Oh!" it said, apparently in answer to some question, "I have a much quicker way to fortune than that; I mean to marry an heiress!" Vivian started, and looked at the speaker. He was a very good-looking fellow. Vivian continued to look at him, and deliberately, from head to foot; he then turned away with a satisfied and thoughtful smile. "Certainly," said I gravely, (construing the smile,) "you are right there; you are even better-looking than that heiress-hunter!" Vivian coloured; but before he could answer, one of the loungers, as the group recovered from the gay laugh which their companion's easy coxcombry had excited, said,-- "Then, by the way, if you want an heiress, here comes one of the greatest in England; but instead of being a younger son, with three good lives between you and an Irish peerage, one ought to be an earl at least to aspire to Fanny Trevanion!" The name thrilled through me--I felt myself tremble--and, looking up, I saw Lady Ellinor and Miss Trevanion, as they hurried from their carriage towards the entrance of the opera. They both recognised me, and Fanny cried,-- "You here! How fortunate! You must see us into the box, even if you run away the moment after." "But I am not dressed for the opera," said I, embarrassed. "And why not?" asked Miss Trevanion; then, dropping her voice, she added, "Why do you desert us so wilfully?"--and, leaning her hand on my arm, I was drawn irresistibly into the lobby. The young loungers at the door made way for us, and eyed me, no doubt, with envy. "Nay!" said I, affecting to laugh, as I saw Miss Trevanion waited for my reply. "You forget how little time I have for such amusements now,--and my uncle--" "Oh, but mamma and I have been to see your uncle to-day, and he is nearly well--is he not, mamma? I cannot tell you how I like and admire him. He is just what I fancy a Douglas of the old day. But mamma is impatient. Well, you must dine with us to-morrow--promise!--not _adieu_, but _au revoir_," and Fanny glided to her mother's arm. Lady Ellinor, always kind and courteous to me, had good-naturedly lingered till this dialogue, or rather monologue, was over. On returning to the passage I found Vivian walking to and fro; he had lighted his cigar, and was smoking energetically.