My soul was so completely touched, that I could not articulate. “Mr. Devereux is right--I see, my lord, that you have a soul that can be touched.” “Kissing hands, I protest!” exclaimed a shrill voice at the window. We turned, and saw Mrs. O’Connor and a group of tittering faces peeping in. “Kissing hands, after a good hour’s tête-à-tête! Oh, pray, Lady Kildangan, make haste here,” continued Mrs. O’Connor; “make haste, before Lady Geraldine’s blushes are over.” “Were you ever detected in the crime of blushing, in your life, Mrs. O’Connor?” said I. “I never was found out locked up with so fine a gentleman,” replied Mrs. O’Connor. “Then it hurts your conscience only to be found out, like all the rest of the vast family of the Surfaces,” said Lady Geraldine, resuming her spirit. “Found out!--Locked up!--bless me! bless me! What is all this?” cried Lady Kildangan, puffing up the hill. “For shame! young ladies; for shame!” continued her ladyship, with a decent suppression of her satisfaction, when she saw, or thought she saw, how matters stood. “Unlock the door, pray. Don’t be vexed, my Geraldine. Fie! fie! Mrs. O’Connor. But quizzing is now so fashionable--nobody can be angry with any body. My Geraldine, consider we are all friends.” The door unlocked, and as we were going out, Lady Geraldine whispered to me--“For mercy’s sake, my lord, don’t break my poor mother’s heart! Never let her know that a coronet has been within my grasp, and that I have not clutched it.” Lady Kildangan, who thought that all was now approaching that happy termination she so devoutly wished, was so full of her own happy presentiments, that it was impossible for me to undeceive her ladyship. Even when I announced before her, to Sir Harry Ormsby, that I was obliged to return home immediately, on particular business, she was, I am sure, persuaded that I was going to prepare matters for marriage-settlements. When I mounted my horse, Mr. Devereux pressed through a crowd assembled on the steps at the hall-door, and offered me his hand, with a look and manner that seemed to say--Have you sufficient generosity to be still my friend? “I know the value of your friendship, Mr. Devereux,” said I, “and I hope to deserve it better every year that I live.” For the effort which it cost me to say this I was rewarded. Lady Geraldine, who had retired behind her companions, at this instant approached with an air of mingled grace and dignity, bowed her head, and gave me a smile of grateful approbation. This is the last image left on my mind, the last look of the charming Geraldine--I never saw her again.