Julia’s conduct and feelings on this occasion, were certainly very foolish, but it must be remembered that she was scarcely eighteen; that she had been brought up in perfect seclusion, a seclusion too of sentiment, where, from five years old, she had never seen, or even heard any thing of life, but within the one domestic circle, in which all that was thought of, was tender mourning for the one that was lost, and tender cherishing of the few that were left. It is not then surprising that those few, and the first place in their hearts, should be romantically valued by one whose opening mind had thus, in every stage of its developement, been strongly impressed with the one idea, that all the rest of the world must be for ever strangers to her, in comparison of those who had, in this exclusive manner, possessed her earliest affections. And when, in addition to all this, the spell of a _first love_ had fallen on a heart so prepared, could much philosophy be expected? CHAPTER VI. “Is this a madness that is upon me?” The party we left at the door, reinforced by a number of newly arrived nephews and nieces of my lord’s and my lady’s, were by this time entering the great drawing-room, at the further end of which Lady Arandale was seated on a sofa, arranging, on a table before her, the presents she had brought for her nieces. From out of the entering group, one lady, whose precedence seemed to be undisputed, came forward towards Lady Arandale. It was Lady Morven. She was very tall, and very slight with long thin limbs, a small head, a little round face, deeply pockmarked, small grey eyes, scarcely any nose, and a small mouth without any lips. She was highly rouged, and dressed both fashionably and extravagantly; and her figure, though totally without form, had an air of grace as well as of elegance. The first salutation over, she flung herself on a sofa opposite to that occupied by Lady Arandale. “And pray, Matilda, my dear,” said the last named lady, “why did you not come to Lodore after all?” “La! ma’am, I had nobody to drive me.” “Had na’ ye, yier coachman, my dear?” “You know, I can’t bear any body’s driving but Graham’s; and the wretch thought fit to fall out of his curricle the very day he was coming over to take me: so there I have had him, with his arm in a sling, lounging about at Morven Hall, ever since: quite a bore, I assure you!” “Your ladyship does me in-fi-nite honour!” faintly drawled out Mr. Graham, from the depths of a repose-chair, well furnished with down pillows, in which he had established himself. “Cruel—the distance,” he continued, letting fall word after word, “which divides me—from—so much goodness—Pray—Lady Morven—are the cushions—on that—sofa—mul-ti-tudinous?” “Yes, there are a good many,” replied her ladyship, and as she spoke she made room for him, adding, “had you not better come over?”