His lordship for a few minutes was silent. But as soon as Penelope was a little more composed, he said; "I am very much concerned, Miss Primrose, for the uneasiness which I have occasioned you, and so far from wishing to interrupt the happiness of your meeting with your father I will retire, that you may compose yourself. Only let me request that I may have the honor of being introduced to Mr Primrose after your first meeting is over." This was all very rational and proper, and the kind, considerate manner in which it was spoken pleased Penelope very much, and she made her acknowledgments for the kindness with so much grace as to fascinate his lordship more than ever. He thought he had never seen so lovely and interesting a creature in his life. He apologized for having introduced such a subject so inopportunely, and attributed it solely to the fear that the arrival of her father might preclude him from speaking on the subject at a future time. When the poor girl was left alone, it was no easy matter for her to arrange her scattered thoughts and to bring herself back to that state of holiday extasy with which she had begun the day. Nor was much time afforded her for the purpose; for, not many minutes after the departure of Lord Spoonbill, the arrival of Mr Primrose was announced. There seemed to Penelope to be scarcely any interval between hearing a carriage stop at the door, and finding herself embraced in the arms of her long lost father. Over a scene like this all modest dramatists would drop the curtain, knowing that imagination would be rather impeded than assisted by farther exhibition. CHAPTER IV. To continue that reference to the drama with which the preceding chapter was concluded, it may be remarked that, when the curtain has fallen thus abruptly on one scene, the spectators do not anticipate that, on its being drawn up again, the eye should be greeted with any continuation of that scene; but rather do they look for some great and decided transition. Our readers therefore will not now be surprised if we take them back again to Neverden and Smatterton. They are pleasant villages, and their inhabitants are for the most part unartificial people. It is a fact worthy of notice, and we have no doubt that our observant readers have already remarked it, that all the personages in those two villages of whom we have yet spoken, have had that delectable and pleasing feeling of their own importance, by which they have considered that the world has been under infinite obligations to them. To have that feeling strongly and genuinely, is a real happiness; and if there has ever been any human being whom we have envied, it has been P. P., clerk of this parish, especially while he was writing his own memoirs. To endeavour to rob any one of this sense, is cruel, heart-rendingly cruel and barbarous; but fortunately for human happiness, this robbery cannot easily be effected.