so grateful, he would give all he has for me,—I’ll be d—d if he would not.” Let this suffice. The drive was not very long; and, the danger of being overturned excepted, utterly devoid of interest. Lady Dartford had returned to town. Perhaps no one ever heard that she had left it: like the rose leaf upon the glass full of water, her innocent presence made not the slightest difference, nor was her absence at any time observed. She, however, called upon Calantha, a few moments after Buchanan had taken her home. Lady Avondale was with her lord, in the library when she came. “Why did you let her in?” she said rather crossly to the servant; when another loud rap at the door announced Lady Mandeville and Lady Augusta Selwyn. Calantha was writing a letter; and Lord Avondale was talking to her of the arrangements for their departure. “I wish I ever could see you one moment alone,” he said, “Say I am coming—or shall not come,” she replied; and during the time she remained to finish the conversation with her husband, she could not help amusing herself with the thought of Lady Dartford’s alarm, at finding herself in the presence of Lady Mandeville, whom she did not visit. “You do not attend at all,” said Lord Avondale; “you are of no use whatever;” Alas! he had already found that the mistress of his momentary passion, was not the friend and companion of his more serious thoughts. Calantha was of no use to any one. She began to feel the bitterness of this certainty, but she fled from the reflection with pain. Eager to amuse Lady Dartford, Lady Augusta, who knew her well, entertained her till Lady Avondale joined them, with a variety of anecdotes of all that had taken place since her departure; and, having soon exhausted other subjects, began upon Calantha herself. “She is positively in love with Captain Buchanan,” said she. “At every ball he dances with her; at every supper he is by her side; all London is talking of it. Only think too how strange, just as he was said to have proposed to Miss Macvicker—a fortune—twenty thousand a year—a nice girl, who really looks unhappy. Poor thing, it is very hard on her.—I always feel for girls.” “Come,” said Lady Mandeville, “last night you know, they did not interchange a word: he talked the whole evening to that young lady with the singular name. How I detest gossiping and scandal. Calantha deserves not this.” “Bless us, how innocent we are all of a sudden,” interrupted Lady Augusta! “have you any pretentions, dearest lady, to that innoxtious quality? Now are you not aware that this is the very perfection of the art of making love—this not speaking? But this is what always comes of those who are so mighty fond of their husbands. Heavens, how sick I have been of all the stories of their romantic attachment. There is nothing, my dear, like Miss Seymour, or making one sick. She always gives me the vapours.”