Lady Meredith here exchanged a smile of contempt with the officer, which seemed to say "how rustic that is!" then half yawning she said:-- "Oh, but indeed that was very wrong: what can a woman of fashion do without a box at the Opera? I am sure, from all I have heard of the former Lady St. Aubyn, for I had not the honour of knowing her, she would not have lived a month in London without one." "Very likely," said the old lady, "but for all that _I_ think _this young person_ quite in the right, and as to the late Lady St. Aubyn, I am sure _she_ was no pattern for any body, and I wonder, Lady Meredith, you will name her in my hearing." "I beg your Ladyship's pardon," replied Lady Meredith; "I forgot." "Well, no matter; don't say any more." To paint Ellen's surprize would be difficult: the odd epithet this strange lady had applied to her, "_this young person_," the allusions to the late countess, of whom she never heard without an indescribable sort of emotion, and the suspicion she now entertained that her ungracious neighbour was Lady Juliana Mordaunt, all conspired to overpower her; and the heat of the apartment, the strong smell of perfumes from immense China jars, with which the room was ornamented, completed it; in short, though wholly unaccustomed to such sensations, she had nearly fainted. The young officer, who had long been watching her interesting and lovely countenance, saw her change colour, and said hastily:-- "The lady is ill." "What's the matter, child?" said the old lady; and rising hastily, she untied her bonnet and the strings of her mantle, which, falling aside, discovered enough of her figure to render her situation obvious. "So!" exclaimed the old lady; but whether the interjection expressed surprize, pleasure, or what other sensation, was not easy to discover. "Do, Colonel Lenox, exert yourself so much as to open the door and ring for a glass of water: the air of this room is enough to kill any body." "Pardon me," said Ellen, the colour returning to her cheeks and lips, "I am sorry to give so much trouble; I am much better." "That's well," said the old lady. By this time the water was brought; Ellen drank some, and quite recovered, begged leave to ring for her carriage. "Don't go yet, child," said the old lady; "perhaps you may be ill again." "No: pray don't go yet," said Lady Meredith, who all this time had been holding a smelling bottle to her own nose, affecting to be too much overcome to do any thing for the relief of her visitor. "You have frightened me enormously; stay a little to make me amends; besides, you still tremble and look pale: are you subject to these faintings?" "Not in the least," said Ellen. "I believe the heat of the room overcame me." "No wonder," said the old lady; "it is a perfect stove, and enough to unstring the nerves of Hercules, especially when aided by the powerful scent of those abominable jars."