The case is somewhat different with her sister. There have been times when, wearied with a round of amusements, longing for gentle sympathy and affection, wounded by the peevishness of her aunt, or the selfish indifference of Arabella, Louisa has felt almost disposed to accept reiterated invitations to Willow Cottage, and has half resolved to cast in her lot with those nearest and dearest to her heart. But she is like some fluttering insect, caught in the double web of her own habitual love of pleasure and the influence of worldly relatives. Lady Selina ever represents Cornwall as an English Siberia, a desolate wild, in which existence would be perfect stagnation. She paints the gloom which must surround the dwelling of a ruined, disappointed man, till Louisa actually regards her indulgent father with feelings approaching to fear. Arabella is indignant if her sister even alludes to the subject of any change in her arrangements; so, enchained by indolence, folly, and fear, Louisa quietly resigns herself to a position which is often painful as well as unnatural. Her father’s kindness permits her a choice; her choice is to remain where pleasure may be found. Her longing for happiness is unsatisfied still, but it is at the world’s broken cisterns that she seeks to quench the thirst of an immortal soul. Lady Selina’s ambition is now concentrating itself on one object. Her nieces must form brilliant alliances—they must be united to men of fortune and rank, and in their homes she must find once more the luxury, grandeur, and importance which she once enjoyed in that of their father. The wish so long indulged, and scarcely concealed, appears now to be on the point of partial fulfilment. Sir Mordaunt Strange has offered his hand to Louisa; it has been, after some hesitation, accepted, and every letter to the cottage from Lady Selina is full of encomiums on the character, manner, and appearance of the “Intended,” and of felicitations on the happy prospects opening before the young bride elect. Mr. Effingham and his son are to be present at the wedding. Clemence would fain accompany them to London, for her heart yearns over Louisa, and the very praise so lavishly bestowed upon Sir Mordaunt by Lady Selina excites misgivings in the step-mother’s breast. Prudential motives and other obstacles, however, prevent Clemence from accomplishing her wish. We shall glance for a moment at Louisa, as she stands before a pier-glass in the drawing-room of her aunt, trying on her bridal veil and wreath of white orange-blossoms. A milliner is adjusting the spray which is to fall on the fair girl’s graceful neck.