finding fault with Selina herself, if any particular ornament or colour in it happened not to suit his fancy. To the Viscountess herself his manner was in the highest degree attentive, and even insinuating; and had the world in which they moved had time to attend to his conduct in particular, it would probably have decided, that he was much more assiduous in recommending himself to the aunt than to the niece. He would often place himself, for a whole evening, behind Lady Eltondale's chair, when the vivacity and singularity of his conversation, compounded, as it was, of sense and levity, would withdraw nearly all her attention from the rest of the company, while at the same time Selina would appear almost unregarded by him. It also often happened, if they were at a ball together, he would ask Selina to dance, "provided she had not any other partner;" or tell her to "say at least she was engaged to him, if any asked her she did not wish to dance with;" and such was the pleasure Selina always experienced from his natural vivacious manners, that it seldom happened that the engagement was not fulfilled. And yet it seemed almost a matter of indifference to him, whether it was so or not; he often appeared fully as anxious to procure other pleasant partners for her, as to be the chosen one himself. One evening, Selina supposed she had engaged herself to him, and waited in anxious, though vain, expectation of his coming to claim her hand; and when, as his apology for not doing so, he told her laughingly, that he had totally forgotten their engagement, she was almost tempted to be affronted. But he so good naturedly called the next morning, to bring her the music of the last new ballet, and appeared so unconscious of having merited her displeasure, that it quickly vanished, and their friendship seemed more firmly established than ever.