The earl had dreaded lest he should find Letitia nervous at the prospect of the formidable evening she was about to pass. His visit was meant to reassure her, and she understood the kindness of the intention, and showed that she did. When lady Frances came in from her conference with Philips, she found them side by side on the sofa,—Letitia quiet and self-possessed, and the earl regarding her with as much admiration as kindness. “I am sure you may be obliged to me for giving up Philips to you,” said lady Frances to Letitia. “She has dressed you beautifully to-night. Is not she a treasure?” “A great treasure to you, Frances,” said her brother, “so pray take her back again. Letitia has one treasure of a maid in her dressing-room already, and it is a pity she should rob you of yours.” “Indeed it is,” said lady F——. “Philips’s accomplishments are thrown away upon me, I am afraid. If you will allow her to give my little French girl a few lessons, I shall be just as much obliged to you, and shall not deprive you of your servant.” Lady Frances protested; but her brother was peremptory, to her utter astonishment, for she had never known him speak of lady’s maids before, and would not have believed that he could ever learn one from another. She did not perceive that he did not choose that his wife’s beauty should be attributed to the art of her toilet. Not the slightest trace of trepidation was observable in the bride when she alighted from her carriage, when her name was shouted up the staircase, or when all who were within hearing turned to gaze as she entered the crowded saloon, leaning on the arm of the earl. There was something much more like girlish glee than fear in her countenance; for, the truth was, Letitia had a taste for luxury, as all simple-minded persons would have, if their simplicity extended as far as a disregard of the factitious associations by which luxury is converted into an incumbrance. Having been early accustomed to so much of it as to excite the taste, then deprived of it, then baulked and tantalized with the coarse and tinsel imitation of it which had met her during her short professional course, it was with lively pleasure that she now greeted the reality. The whole apparatus of festivity inspired her with instantaneous joy:—the bowers of orange and rose trees, light, warmth and music together, the buzz of voices, and above all the chalked floor,—all these set her spirits dancing. A single glance towards her husband told him enough to have placed him perfectly at ease respecting the affairs of the evening, even if he had been a man who could be otherwise than at his ease. He knew perfectly well that it was impossible for any one of good sense and taste not to admire and respect Letitia, and he cared little under what pretence others might depreciate her accomplishments.