Lord Montreville’s knowledge of the sex, which rendered him jealous and umbrageous when there was any, the remotest, cause for being so, also enabled him to understand and to appreciate her behaviour on the present occasion. Lionel saw the game was up, and had the tact to slip back into the open conventional gallantry, from which he had been gradually advancing into serious gallantry. Lucy that night retired to her room satisfied with herself, thoroughly convinced that every effort made in the cause of virtue produces its own reward, resolved to be thankful for the blessings she possessed, and strong in the determination to do her duty in that state of life in which she was placed; while at the same time she could not deny to herself that the duties of those who are united to a person suited to them in age, disposition, and pursuits, are the most easy to fulfil. Lord and Lady Montreville have lived many years in comfort and good fellowship. Lady Montreville is the best of mothers, and finds in the sportive tenderness of her children, happiness far beyond the contentment which at one time was all to which she dared aspire. Yet sometimes, as she watches the innocent gambols of her two lovely little girls, she sighs to think those halcyon days of youth, which to herself were days of such unalloyed joyousness, cannot last for ever, and that the time must assuredly come when they too will think of love and marriage. Such reflections were passing through her mind, when she one day exclaimed to Milly, “Nurse, how sorry I shall be when those children grow up, and one has to go through for them all the agitations attendant upon lovers, and going to be married. Marriage is such a lottery, you know!” “Ah, well! I shall be dead and buried before ever that time comes; but whatever you do, my lady, be sure they choose gentlemen that have the fear of God before their eyes. Ah, bless their little hearts!” she added, as she followed their light, graceful forms with eyes of pride and tenderness, “they may grow up ever so pretty—as pretty as yourself, my lady, and they can’t be much prettier, but it’s a poor hold a woman has over a man if it’s only the hold her own beautiful face, sweet manners, and gentle temper can have. It is to the man’s good principles a woman must look, to keep her husband constant and true to her.” WARENNE; OR, THE PIPING TIMES OF PEACE. CHAPTER I. So I, by vent’rous friendship led, * * * * * Wad fain thy dauntless valour sing, Resistless as the tempest’s wing That wave on wave does dashing fling Upon the shore, Yet mild thy soul as breath of spring When war is o’er. _Unpublished Poems._