“The young man has been a most unhappy, and, it would appear innocent victim of the moral turpitude of others;” observed a gentleman who had not before spoken, and whose black silk apron proclaimed him a dignitary of the church. “The story affords a striking, practical revelation of the will of Him, who has ordained that misery shall be the fruit of vice;” he added, addressing a younger person on whose arm he leaned. The general move occasioned by the breaking up of the now concluded set of quadrilles, dispersed our listening party, and sent them to seek various amusements in other parts of the gay assembly. Immediately after Julia had gone into the dancing-room with Edmund, a handsome lively young man, not much above the middle size, but remarkably well made, came up to Lord L., with whom he appeared well acquainted. He particularly requested an introduction to Frances, which Lord L., without absolute reluctance, granted; for young Beaumont, though but second son to Lord Beaumont, might be classed among those whom Lord L. considered as proper young men, being grandson to the Duke of ⸺, and inheriting a large property in right of his mother, Lady Charlotte ⸺, his Grace’s only child. On being introduced, Beaumont requested the honour of Lady Frances L.’s hand in due form, and led her towards the quadrilles. Whenever he addressed her, and that in consequence she raised her eyes to his face, she thought she must have seen him before, but could not remember where. A vague suspicion, however, sometimes crossed her mind; yet, if that were the case, the dress was now so different. Beaumont’s manners were very animated; and he was so assiduous to please, that Frances’s natural gaiety of heart, soon appeared with as little restraint, as if they had been long acquainted. “This is not the first effort I have made to have the honour of being presented to Lady Frances L.,” said Mr. Beaumont, at last, with a rather conscious smile, and a little hesitation; “but I was not quite so fortunate in my former essay.” “I thought I had seen you before!” said Frances. “Then you are the gentleman that played the flute on the Lake, and that had the two beautiful dogs, and that——” Frances stopped short, for there was something in the sort of pleasure that Beaumont’s countenance expressed, which betrayed that he considered the accuracy of her memory as a compliment to himself. He immediately perceived that he had committed an error, which nothing but the greatest humility could rectify. With downcast eyes, therefore, he said, “he must esteem himself fortunate in possessing even dogs, worthy of being remembered by Lady Frances L.”