So far indeed as his lordship's own personal feelings were concerned he would have had no objection whatever to offer his hand to Miss Primrose; an offer which he thought of course could not possibly be rejected. But then again he thought of his dignity; and he remembered how very severely he had spoken, and how very contemptibly he had thought, of some titled individuals who had so far compromised their dignity as to marry from the lower orders. Yet there was something so elegant and so naturally noble in Penelope's look, manner, expression, tone of voice, carriage and person, that nature itself seemed to have ennobled her. She seemed fitted for any station in society. This was all very true; but Lord Spoonbill could not for all this reconcile his mind to the thought of raising Miss Primrose to the exalted rank of the Spoonbill family. He was fearful too that the degradation would break his mother's heart. All these thoughts, if thoughts they might be called, with myriads more of the same complexion and tendency, passed through the mind, if mind he had any, of the son and heir of the Right Honorable the Earl of Smatterton. We have said it was a fine morning, and if two of the English nation can on such a morning travel together without talking about the fineness of the weather, when it is really fine, they are two that we have never seen, heard, or read of. "We have a beautiful morning for our ride, Miss Primrose," said Lord Spoonbill. "Beautiful, indeed," replied Penelope; and she said it with such energy, with such heart-bounding glee, as if the sun had never shewn her its cloudless face before. And never indeed had it shone so brightly before to her. There is something peculiarly and positively beautiful in a fine bright day in the midst of winter. The shortness of its light adds to its intensity and condenses its interest. But when there is sunshine within as well as without, and when the heart is young, pure, hopeful and buoyant, then is there felt a revelry of delight, a wantonness of happiness. So felt Penelope on this bright and brilliant winter's morning. And when there was added to the joyous feeling within and to the effect of the spirit-stirring anticipation with which she set out on her journey, the bracing and sharpening of an almost frosty air, her fine countenance was suffused with as brilliant a hue as ever graced the human countenance. As far as life excels the art of the sculptor, so far did the countenance of Penelope on this morning's journey excel in brightness and beauty its ordinary expression. "We are not stocks and stones." So thought Lord Spoonbill when he gazed on the lovely one who sat beside him. He almost felt the majesty of loveliness, and was almost awed into reverence.