Imprudent man! These words were not lost; even as he spoke the fair Lucia herself stood very near him, waiting for him to turn around that she might address him; but as she caught this expression, a glow of indignation suffused her features, and with noiseless footsteps she glided from the room. “How dare he say this of me!” she exclaimed, as she closed the door of her chamber; “what reason have I given him for such a supposition! He judges of me by his own false and fickle heart; yet why should I care for the opinion of such a man as he is. How stupid in John to say I was at home. I believe I will send word I am engaged; no, I will even see him, and let him know by my indifference how little value I place either on his society or his opinion.” And Lucia re-entered the drawing-room with a stately step, and received the salutation of her visiter with the utmost hauteur of manner. “I have called, Miss Laurence, to apologize for my apparent incivility in not keeping the engagement formed with you last evening,” said Gadsby, with evident embarrassment. “It was not necessary, Mr. Gadsby, to take so much trouble for that which is of so little consequence,” answered Lucia, coldly. “Pardon me, Miss Laurence, nothing but—but imperative business—” “Pray do not exhaust your invention, sir, for excuses.” Gadsby’s face crimsoned. “Let me hope nothing serious prevented your accompanying the party, Miss Laurence,” he at length said. “To be more honest than you, I had no inclination to go, and therefore did not.” “But last evening—” “O, last evening I arranged the excursion merely for my friends, not feeling, of course, obliged to go with them,” was the answer. “Then I certainly cannot regret so much the cause which prevented my joining them, since the only attraction would have been wanting.” This implied compliment was noticed only by a haughty bow. “Cold, unyielding beauty!” thought Gadsby, carelessly turning over the leaves of an annual. “False, idle flatterer!” thought Lucia, pulling her bouquet to pieces. “Those are beautiful flowers, Miss Laurence—what have they done to merit such treatment at your fair hands!” said Mr. Gadsby, glad of the opportunity to say something, for he felt himself completely embarrassed by her repulsive manners. “You treat them with as little favor as you do your admirers, and throw them from you with as little mercy. Fair, beautiful flowers!” he added, gathering up the leaves of a rose from the rich carpet, “fit emblems they are in their fragility of woman’s short-lived faith and truth.” “A lesson upon faith and truth from Mr. Gadsby is a paradox well worth listening to!” retorted Lucia, with a sarcastic smile. “Why so—do you then believe me destitute of them?” “I have never deemed the subject worthy of reflection; yet, if I mistake not, the world does not burthen you with such attributes.”