One fine autumnal day, in the beginning of October, she had just returned from one of her favourite rambles in the park, when she abruptly entered the library, to show to Sir Henry an exhausted leveret, that she had discovered panting in a thicket, and that she had brought home in her arms: as she held it she partially covered it by her frock, which she had caught up to keep it warm; without any recollection of the consequent exposure of her beautiful ancle, which this derangement of her drapery had occasioned. Her color was heightened by exercise, and the wind had dishevelled her luxuriant brown hair, that strayed in ringlets on her beaming cheek, whilst her straw hat, almost untied, had slipped off her head, and hung behind, in contrast to the remaining locks that a comb loosely fastened. Perhaps a painter or a sculptor would have chosen that moment, to perpetuate the beautiful object, that, as Selina opened the door, thus suddenly presented itself to the delighted gaze of two gentlemen, who were then visiting Sir Henry: in one Selina immediately recognised Mr. Webberly, and to the other she was introduced as his friend, Mr. Sedley. At first Selina coloured, as she momentarily recollected her dishabille, if such it might be called; but in an instant, recovering herself, she apologized to her father for her intrusion, and calmly obeyed his directions to seat herself beside him, whilst she dismissed her trembling _protÈgÈe_ to be nursed below stairs. Was it innate good sense, or was it incipient vanity, that saved this young recluse from the torments of _mauvaise honte_, which so many votaries of fashion feel or feign? Her colour was as variable as the tints of a summer sky; but though it was often heightened, and sometimes changed by quick susceptibility affecting it, it seldom suffered from that illegitimate timidity, that owes its birth to an inordinate anxiety to please. The language of compliment was foreign to her ear, and she had yet to learn that finished coquetry, that wraps itself in the veil of modesty, and flies to be pursued. Mr. Webberly stated, the motive of his visit was not only to deliver an invitation from his mother to a ball she purposed giving in a few weeks, but also to add his earnest persuasions, that Sir Henry, Mrs. Galton, and Miss Seymour would accept it. On this occasion the unpolished Selina broke through all the rules of etiquette; and, totally unmindful of the presence of strangers, at the mention of a ball jumped up, clapped her hands, and springing almost as high as another Parisot, exclaimed, as she threw her arms round Sir Henry's neck, "Pray dear, dear Papa, let me go, I've heard so much of balls!" It may be supposed, the gentlemen strenuously seconded her solicitations: their united entreaties having obtained Sir Henry's consent, they at length withdrew, whilst Selina reiterated her thanks and her joy with equal earnestness and _naÔvetÈ_.