“Feeling!” cried the knight; “ay, the reverend gentry always have a marvellously tender feeling for their own interest,--eh, Morton?” “Right, dear sir,” said I, wishing to change a subject which I knew might hurt Aubrey; “but should we not join yon party of dames and damsels? I see they are about to make a water excursion.” “‘Sdeath, sir, with all my heart,” cried the good-natured knight; “I love to see the dear creatures amuse themselves; for, to tell you the truth, Morton,” said he, sinking his voice into a knowing whisper, “the best thing to keep them from playing the devil is to encourage them in playing the fool!” and, laughing heartily at the jest he had purloined from one of his favourite writers, Sir William led the way to the water-party. CHAPTER XIV. BEING A CHAPTER OF TRIFLES. THE Abby disappeared! It is astonishing how well everybody bore his departure. My mother scarcely spoke on the subject; but along the irrefragable smoothness of her temperament all things glided without resistance to their course, or trace where they had been. Gerald, who, occupied solely in rural sports or rustic loves, seldom mingled in the festivities of the house, was equally silent on the subject. Aubrey looked grieved for a day or two: but his countenance soon settled into its customary and grave softness; and, in less than a week, so little was the Abbe spoken of or missed that you would scarcely have imagined Julian Montreuil had ever passed the threshold of our gate. The oblivion of one buried is nothing to the oblivion of one disgraced. Meanwhile I pressed for my departure; and, at length, the day was finally fixed. Ever since that conversation with Lady Hasselton which has been set before the reader, that lady had lingered and lingered--though the house was growing empty, and London, in all seasons, was, according to her, better than the country in any--until the Count Devereux, with that amiable modesty which so especially characterized him, began to suspect that the Lady Hasselton lingered on his account. This emboldened that bashful personage to press in earnest for the fourth seat in the beauty’s carriage, which we have seen in the conversation before mentioned had been previously offered to him in jest. After a great affectation of horror at the proposal, the Lady Hasselton yielded. She had always, she said, been dotingly fond of children, and it was certainly very shocking to send such a chit as the little Count to London by himself.