“Now, Spoonbill, let me as a friend advise you. I waive my authority and speak to you purely and simply as a friend. Our title is a mere empty sound, unless the dignity of it is properly kept up. You are disposed to be very condescending, and at home it is all well enough; but what I disapprove of is your condescension in public. Yesterday you accompanied this young woman in the chariot, and it is impossible to say who may have seen you thus familiarly associating with a person of inferior rank. There are too many encroachments already upon the higher classes, and we ought not to invite and encourage more. I have done.” Lord Spoonbill was glad to hear that. But the disobedient one, as if his only object in listening to a sermon had been that he might act directly contrary to its advice, forthwith, instead of causing the letter to be delivered, did himself, with his own right honorable hands, in person present the letter to Penelope. “Who should write to me?” thought the dependent, as she received the letter with a smile of gratitude and gracefulness from the condescending son of the dignified Earl of Smatterton. Lord Spoonbill thought that Penelope had never before looked so graceful and so beautiful as at that moment. There are some countenances in which peculiar and transient emotions light up a most fascinating expression of loveliness. This peculiarity belonged to Penelope; and that look of loveliness rewarded Lord Spoonbill for his condescension, and made a much deeper impression on his heart than the discourse of the Earl had made on his understanding. So impressive was it that it almost enchained him to the spot, so as to prevent Penelope from immediately gratifying her curiosity by perusing the letter. His lordship, as if to find reason, or to make cause for prolonging his stay, said: “If this letter requires an answer by return of post, my father will be happy to give you a frank; but the post closes at three, and it is now past twelve.” “I thank you, my lord,” replied the young lady, looking at the letter and half opening it; “I do not know from whence it comes.” In a few seconds the letter was opened, and the quick glancing eye of Penelope saw the name of Primrose, and the whole truth rushed into her mind with overpowering violence; and the intense feeling of delight at the thought of being saved from dependence and rescued from a dreaded profession, was too much for her weakened spirits to bear composedly, and exclaiming, with hysteric shriek, “My father, my father!” she would have sunk on the floor had not Lord Spoonbill caught her in his arms and placed her on a sofa. His lordship rang violently for assistance, which was promptly and successfully rendered; and as his presence was no farther necessary, he thought it best to inform the Countess of the situation of Miss Primrose, and of the event which had produced this sudden burst of feeling.