While Ferrers spoke, several of the scattered loungers grouped around Florence, and the conversation, of which she was the cynosure, became animated and gay. Oh, how brilliant she was, that peerless Florence!--with what petulant and sparkling grace came wit and wisdom, and even genius, from those ruby lips! Even the assured Ferrers felt his subtle intellect as dull and coarse to hers, and shrank with a reluctant apprehension from the arrows of her careless and prodigal repartees. For there was a scorn in the nature of Florence Lascelles which made her wit pain more frequently than it pleased. Educated even to learning--courageous even to a want of feminacy--she delighted to sport with ignorance and pretension, even in the highest places; and the laugh that she excited was like lightning;--no one could divine where next it might fall. But Florence, though dreaded and unloved, was yet courted, flattered, and the rage. For this there were two reasons: first, she was a coquette, and secondly, she was an heiress. Thus the talkers in the room were divided into two principal groups, over one of which Maltravers may be said to have presided; over the other, Florence. As the former broke up, Ernest was joined by Cleveland. "My dear cousin," said Florence, suddenly, and in a whisper, as she turned to Lumley, "your friend is speaking of me--I see it. Go, I implore you, and let me know what he says!" "The commission is not flattering," said Ferrers, almost sullenly. "Nay, a commission to gratify a woman's curiosity is ever one of the most flattering embassies with which we can invest an able negotiator." "Well, I must do your bidding, though I disown the favour." Ferrers moved away, and joined Cleveland and Maltravers. "She is, indeed, beautiful: so perfect a contour I never beheld: she is the only woman I ever saw in whom the aquiline features seem more classical than even the Greek." "So, that is your opinion of my fair cousin!" cried Ferrers, "you are caught." "I wish he were," said Cleveland. "Ernest is now old enough to settle, and there is not a more dazzling prize in England--rich, high-born, lovely, and accomplished." "And what say you?" asked Lumley, almost impatiently, to Maltravers. "That I never saw one whom I admire more or could love less," replied Ernest, as he quitted the rooms. Ferrers looked after him, and muttered to himself; he then rejoined Florence, who presently rose to depart, and taking Lumley's arm, said, "Well, I see my father is looking round for me--and so for once I will forestall him. Come, Lumley, let us join him; I know he wants to see you. "Well?" said Florence, blushing deeply, and almost breathless, as they crossed the now half-empty apartments. "Well, my cousin?" "You provoke me--well, then, what said your friend?" "That you deserved your reputation of beauty, but that you were not his style. Maltravers is in love, you know." "In love?"