countenance was turned towards him to reply, while the close bonnet which, while it was so turned, hid its loveliness from every eye. It was a slight summer one of simple snowy sarcenet, and though it warded off the glare of the out-door sun-beam, it admitted through its half transparent texture a heavenly kind of light, which at once accurately defined, and seemed a fitting shrine for the perfectly angelic features around which it dwelt: the pure lively red of the lovely moving lip, where all else was so white; the smile of enchantment, exposing to view the pearly teeth; the delicately pencilled brow; the large dark eyes, which yet were so soft, so modestly raised, so meek in their expression, that their very lustre seemed that of compassion's tear ere it o'erflows the lid! Yet did their mild beams make such an unmerciful jumble of all Alfred's ideas, that he was quite sure he must be talking nonsense. But there was no help for it; if he spoke not, he saw but the fluted outside of the white sarcenet bonnet; it was necessary to make ceaseless appeals to Caroline's attention, or the graceful head would not be turned towards him; the lovely eyes would not be raised to his, the beauteous lips, fresh as rose leaves moist with morning dew, would not be parted in reply; to purchase delights such as these he was compelled to risk his reputation as a sage, and go on without an effort to think. At length, however he came to an unlucky pause, and instead of jumping over it, unfortunately began to weigh what subject he should next propound. But, alas! the precious moments flew past in rapid succession, and, one after another, became absorbed in the gulph of eternity, while our poor hero was still at a stand. And now strange uneasy sensations began to blend with the dream-like felicity he had hitherto enjoyed, though he was not yet awake to the cause, which was simply this: the band was playing that well known note of dismissal--the national anthem--and anticipations of approaching separation began to steal over his senses. To his surprise and infinite delight, however, Lady Palliser suddenly asked Lord Darlingford and himself, with the prettiest and most petitioning manner possible, to go home with her party to breakfast. We need scarcely say that Alfred consented; so did Lord Darlingford, though not quite so willingly, for he had intended to return to Lady Arden's party.