Sir Geoffry said a word in her ear, and she moved a few inches higher up. He stepped back to Mary Layne. She had been looking at the young lady, who was so richly dressed--in some thin material of shimmering blue and lace--and who was so utterly at her ease as to be sitting without her bonnet, which she had put at her feet. "We have made a place for you," said Sir Geoffry. "I fear you will be a little crowded. Miss Layne, Rachel." Mary waited to thank him before taking it. Her cheeks were full of blushes, her soft dark eyes went out to his. She felt ashamed that he should take so much trouble for her, and strove to say so. Sir Geoffry held her hand while he answered, his own eyes looking back again. But Mary sat for some minutes before any one came to wait on her. The young lady whom Sir Geoffry had called Rachel was busy with her own plate, and did not observe. Presently, she looked round. "Dear me! what are they about? Field!" she imperatively called to the butler, who was passing. He turned at once. "My lady?" "Have the goodness to attend here," said Lady Rachel, indicating the vacant space before Miss Layne. "This young lady has had nothing." "So I really am amidst the lords and ladies," thought Mary, as the butler presented her with a card of the dishes, made out in French, and inquired what she would be pleased to take. She was inexperienced and shy; and did not know where to look or what to say. Lady Rachel spoke to her once or twice, and was civilly distant: and so the half-hour was got over. When Sir Geoffry's health was proposed by Lord L., the young baronet suddenly appeared in his rightful place at the head of the table. He thanked them all very heartily in a few words; and said he hoped he _should_ live long, as they had all just been wishing him, live that he might repay his dear mother one tithe of the sacrifices she had made, and the love she had lavished on him. The cheers broke forth as he finished, his eyes wet with the sincerity of his feeling, the music burst out with a crash, "See the conquering hero comes," and Mary Layne felt every nerve thrill within her; as if she would faint with the excess of unwonted emotion. [_Mr. Duffham's Diary._]