She had conversed during the greater part of the evening with Lord Dartford. The female gipsey to whose party he belonged, and who had attacked Lady Avondale, was Lady Margaret Buchanan. He had asked Lady Dartford many questions about himself, to all of which she had answered with a reserve that had pleased him, and with a praise so unaffected, so heartfelt, and so little deserved, that he could not but deeply feel his own demerit. He did not make himself known, but suffered Lady Margaret to rally and torment his unoffending wife; asking her repeatedly, why so pretty, and so young, Lord Dartford permitted her to go to a masquerade without a protector. “It is,” replied Lady Dartford innocently, “that he dislikes this sort of amusement, and knows well, that those who appear unprotected, are sure of finding friends.” At this speech Lady Margaret laughed prodigiously; and turning to the Friar, who, much disguised, still followed her, asked him, if he had never seen Lord Dartford at a masquerade, giving it as her opinion, that he was very fond of this sort of amusement, and was probably there at that very moment. In the mean time, Calantha continued to talk with Buchanan, and eagerly enquired of him who it was who, thus disguised, had with so much acrimony attacked her. “I do not know the young man,” he answered:—“my mother calls him Viviani:—he is much with her; but he ever wears a disguise, I think; for no one sees him; and, except Gondimar, he seems not to have another acquaintance in England.” It has been said that the weak-minded are alone attracted by the eye; and they who say this, best know what they mean. To Calantha it appeared that the eye was given her for no other purpose than to admire all that was fair and beautiful. Certain it is, she made that use of her’s; and whether the object of such admiration was man, woman, or child, horse or flower, if excellent in its kind, she ever gave them the trifling homage of her approbation. Her new-found cousin was therefore hailed by her with the most encouraging smile; and how long she might have listened to the account he was giving her of his exploits, is unknown, had not Frances approached her in a hasty manner, and said, “Do come away:—the strangest thing possible has happened to me:—Lord Trelawney has proposed to me, and I—I have accepted his offer.” “Accepted his offer!” Calantha exclaimed, with a look of horror. “Oh, pray, keep my secret till we get home,” said Frances. “I dare not tell Sophia; but you must break it to my mother.”