to speak to him, when you go through the same dread ordeal next year, in this very place, as Marchioness Ermindale. The Marquis is looking out for a young wife, and has seen you already, walking early, in shabby gloves, with your governess, and has made up his mind, and will marry you out of hand before the end of the season. So you will be the richest peeress in England, and have a good-looking, good-humoured, honest-hearted husband, very little over forty; and you will do pretty much what you like, and never go with your back to the horses any more; only you don’t know it, nor has it anything to do with our story, except to prove that the lottery is not, invariably, “all blanks and no prizes”--that a quiet, unassuming, lady-like girl has fully as good a chance of winning the game as any of your fashionable beauties--your dashing young ladies, with their pictures in print-books, and their names in the clubs, and their engagements a dozen deep, and their heart-broken lovers in scores--men who can well afford to be _lovers_, seeing that their resources will not admit of their becoming husbands. Such a suitor is Captain Lacquers to the generality of his lady-loves, though he means honestly enough as regards Blanche, and would like to marry her and her Three per Cents, to-morrow. Misguided dandy! what chance has he against such a rival as D’Orville? Even if there were no Frank Hardingstone, and Cousin Charlie were never to come back, he is but on a par with Sir Ascot, Lord Mount Helicon, and a hundred others--there is not a toss of a halfpenny for choice between them. Nevertheless, he has great confidence in his own fascinations, and not being troubled with diffidence, is only waiting for an opportunity to lay himself, his uniform, and his debts at the heiress’s feet. The Major, meanwhile, whom Lady Mount Helicon thinks “charming,” and of whom she is persuaded _she_ has made a conquest, pioneers a way for Blanche and her chaperon through the glittering throng. “It _is_ very formidable, Miss Kettering,” says he, pitying the obvious nervousness of the young girl, “but it’s soon over, like a visit to the dentist. You know what to do, and the Queen is so kind and so gracious, it’s not half so alarming when you are really before her; now, go on; that’s the grand vizier; keep close to Lady Mount Helicon; and mind, don’t turn your back to any of the royalties. I shall be in the gallery to get your carriage after it’s over. I shall be so anxious to know how you get through it.” “Thank you, Major D’Orville,” replied poor Blanche, with an upward glance of gratitude that made her violet eyes look deeper and lovelier than ever; and she sailed on, with a very respectable assumption of fortitude, but inwardly wishing that she could sink into the earth, or, at least, remain with kind, protecting Major D’Orville and Uncle Baldwin, and those gentlemen whose duty did not bring them into the immediate presence of their sovereign.