“The happiness of him of whom you speak, Lady Oswald,” replied Julia, suppressing a sigh, “is not in my hands.” Then recovering herself, she added, with forced firmness, “From our childhood we have regarded each other as brother and sister, and this habit may still tincture our manners with a something which, to those unacquainted with, or not recollecting the peculiar circumstances may seem—may appear—particular. But, as a lover, Lord Fitz-Ullin has never addressed me.” “Then most assuredly he will!” said Lady Oswald. Julia blushed and smiled; the very sound of the words was welcome to her, while reason was compelled to reject their meaning. “You have, you say,” continued Lady Oswald, “the affection of a sister for Fitz-Ullin. If you entertain a tenderer sentiment for any other being, I have no right to inquire further; but if you do not, my dear Lady Julia, make me happy by saying so!” “Pray then be quite happy,” said Julia, affecting to laugh; “and now let us recur no more to this foolish subject.” Lady Oswald fell into a reverie. She was inclined to think, notwithstanding the altered manners of the one, and the contradictory assertions of the other, that a mutual attachment did subsist between them; though at present interrupted by some misunderstanding; and having arrived at this conclusion, she resolved, if possible, to become instrumental to their happiness by bringing about an explanation. A message at this moment very opportunely came from Fitz-Ullin, to say that the day was tolerably fine, and to beg to know if the ladies would take a walk on deck. They consented; and our hero came for them, bringing with him a young lieutenant, by name Lord Surrel, and son to the Duke of ⸺. Fitz-Ullin offered his arm to Lady Oswald, leaving the care of our heroine to Surrel. Julia was absent and silent, and not even conscious of the animated and delighted admiration with which she as instantly as unintentionally inspired her companion. At length the conversation took a turn, which drew something more of her attention. “How much Fitz-Ullin feels the loss of his friend, Captain Ormond,” observed Surrel, struck by the seriousness of our hero’s countenance as they passed and repassed him and Lady Oswald. “The circumstances were, I understand, very melancholy and very remarkable,” faltered out Julia, in reply. “Very much so, indeed!” rejoined Surrel. “You have heard all the particulars, I suppose?” “From no better authority than the newspapers,” she answered. “It was not possible to enter on so painful a subject with Lord Fitz-Ullin. Even Lady Oswald tells me she has not yet ventured to speak to him of his unfortunate friend.”