Mr. Dickson paid his respects to the young couple, apologizing for not having been present at their marriage. He had been ill, he said, from the effects of a fall, though kindly assisted by the most charming woman in the world. Oswald, at this moment, was playing battledore and shuttlecock with Lucy, who was very graceful at this exercise. Her bridegroom gazed on her, and listened not to Mr. Dickson, who, at last, called to him from the other end of the room. "My Lord, the fair unknown, who came to my aid, had certainly heard much about you, for she asked me many questions concerning your fate."--"Whom do you mean?" said Nevil, continuing his game.--"A lovely creature, my Lord, although she looked changed by suffering, and could not speak of you without emotion."[1] These words attracted Oswald's attention; but Lucy, perfectly unconcerned, joined her mother, who had just sent for her. Lord Nevil now asked Mr. Dickson what lady it was who had thus spoken of him. "I know not," he replied: "her accent proved her English, though I have rarely found so obliging and easy a person among our countrywomen. She took as much care of a poor old man like me as if she had been my own child: while I was beside her, I did not feel my bruises; but, my dear Oswald, have you been faithless here as well as in Italy? My beauteous benefactress trembled and turned pale at naming you."--"Just heaven!" exclaimed Nevil, "you said an Englishwoman?"--"Oh yes: you know foreigners never pronounce our language without a certain intonation."--"And her face?"--"The most expressive I ever saw, though fearfully pale and thin." This description suited not the bright Corinne; yet might she not have suffered much, if in England, and unable to find the being she sought? This dread fell suddenly on Oswald, who continued his questions with extreme uneasiness. Mr. Dickson replied that the lady conversed with an elegance which he had never before met, that the gentlest kindness spoke from her sad and languid eyes. "Did you notice their color?" asked Oswald.--"Magnificently dark!" The catechist trembled. "From time to time," continued Mr. Dickson, "she interrogated, or answered, me, and what she _did_ say was delightful." He would have proceeded, but Lady Nevil, with her mother, rejoined them; and Oswald hastily retired, hoping soon again to find Mr. Dickson alone. Struck by his sadness, Lady Edgarmond sent Lucy away, that she might inquire its cause: her guest simply repeated what had passed. Terrified at anticipating the despair of Oswald, if he were assured that Corinne had followed him to Scotland; foreseeing, too, that he would resume this topic, she instructed Mr. Dickson as to what she wished said to her son-in-law. Thus, the old gentleman only increased the anxiety it was too late to remove. Oswald now asked his servant if all the letters sent him within the last three weeks had come by post.[2] The man "believed they had," and was leaving the room; but, turning back, added, "I