After the ladies had retired for the night, De Courcy meditated for full five minutes on the descent from Laura Montreville's forehead to her nose, and bestowed a proportionable degree of consideration upon other lines in her physiognomy; but it must be confessed, that by the time he arrived at the dimple in her left cheek, he had forgotten both Lavater and his opinions, and that his recollection of her mouth was somewhat confused by that of her parting smile, which he more than once declared aloud to himself was 'heavenly.' We are credibly informed, that he repeated the same expression three times in his sleep; and whether it was that his dreams reminded him of Mrs Dawkins's eloquence, or whether his memory was refreshed by his slumbers, he had not been long awake before he recollected that he had heard that lady mention a Mr Wilkins, and hint that he kept a print-shop. By a proper application to the London directory, he easily discovered the print-seller's abode, and thither he that very day repaired. Mr Wilkins was not in the shop when De Courcy entered it, but the shop-boy said his master would be there in a minute. This minute appearing to De Courcy of unusual length, he, to while it away, began to examine the prints which hung around. His eye was presently attracted by the only oil picture in the shop; and his attention was fixed by observing, that it presented a striking resemblance of his old school-fellow Hargrave. He turned to make some inquiry of the shop-boy, when Mr Wilkins came in, and his interest reverted to a different object. The question, however, which he had come to ask, and which to ask would have three minutes before appeared the simplest thing in the world, now faltered on his tongue; and it was not without something like hesitation, that he inquired whether Mr Wilkins knew a Miss Montreville. Desirous to oblige a person of De Courcy's appearance, Wilkins immediately related all that he knew of Laura, either from his own observation, or from the report of her loquacious landlady; and perceiving that he was listened to with attention, he proceeded further to detail his conjectures. 'This picture is painted by her,' said he, 'and I rather think the old Captain can't be very rich, she seemed so anxious to have it sold.' De Courcy again turned to the picture, which he had before examined, and on this second inspection, was so fortunate as to discover that it bore the stamp of great genius,--an opinion in which, we believe, he would have been joined by any man of four-and-twenty who had seen the artist. 'So,' thought he, 'this lovely creature's genius is equal to her beauty, and her worth perhaps surpasses both; for she has the courage to rise superior to the silly customs of the world, and can dare to be useful to herself and to others. I knew by the noble arching of her forehead, that she was above all vulgar prejudice:' and he admired Laura the more for being a