Lady Simpson took the blushing, frightened Netta by the hand, and led her into the drawing-room. Truly the poor child did look like a lovely country rose, as Miss Simpson had not inaptly called her. Howel led her, proud of her beauty, to the portly Sir John, who patted her kindly on the cheeks, and reminded Netta so strongly of her father that the tears sprung into her eyes. Howel's frown soon checked them, and a thundering knock at the door, followed by the entrance of Mr Simpson, junior, and his friend, Captain Dancy, turned her attention from the father to the son. The look of decided admiration that the new comers cast upon her, quite revived her drooping spirits, and she smiled, curtseyed, and blushed as becomingly and naively as Howel could have wished. Mr Horatio Simpson was a young man very much adorned with chains, rings, studs, and black curls. He had, moreover, a very fine waistcoat, and was altogether well fitted by his tailor. His face was not unlike that of an otter. He used grand words when he spoke, but did not tire his companions by quite as voluble a tongue as did his mother. He was one of those fine gentlemen who would, or could neither plod nor dash at his studies, and who was quite willing to take all his knowledge second hand from any one who would kindly impart it. Captain Dancy was so entirely his devoted friend, that he gladly gave him the advantage of his superior parts, in return for various favours which Miss Simpson also aided in conferring. Captain Dancy is a tall, fashionable-looking man, with what Miss Simpson and her mamma consider a splendid figure. 'And such a lovely moustache!' Miss Simpson usually adds with a sigh. The moustache and hair are, however, inclined to red, and the face within them is not unlike that of a fox. Perhaps some of his friends might be surprised if they found him in the present company; but he would do anything to oblige Simpson and Jenkins, who are, in turn, always at his service, in more ways than one. After a little preliminary conversation, Mr Simpson offers Netta his arm; and followed by the rest of the bridal party, leads the way downstairs. A smart little liveried page is at the door, and two fine carriages are in the street, each with its horses and coachman ornamented with bridal favours. 'We cannot make all our arrangements' as I could wish, whispers Howel to Miss Simpson, 'owing to circumstances; or I should have met you at the church from another house.' Netta, Mr Simpson, and the two ladies are in the first carriage, which soon arrives at St James's Church, followed by the other. How the bouquet in Netta's hand trembles, as she takes Mr Simpson's arm, and walks with him up the steps, and finally through the centre aisle to the altar! She has never been in a London church before, and the varied colours of that magnificent painted window strike her with wonder even now.