These and similar conversations wrought powerfully upon the weak mind of our poor heroine. She rose from her bed after her illness wondering what had become of her passion for Frederick Elmour: certainly she was now able to console herself for his loss, by the hopes of being presented at court, and of being dressed with uncommon splendour. She was surprised at this change in her own mind; but she justified it to herself by the reflection, that it would show an unbecoming want of spirit to retain any remains of regard for one who had treated her with so much coldness and indifference, and who in all probability was attached to another woman. Pride and resentment succeeded to tenderness; and she resolved to show Frederick and Ellen that she could be happy her own way. It is remarkable that her friendship for the sister always increased or decreased with her love for her brother. Ambition, as it has often been observed, is a passion that frequently succeeds to love, though love seldom follows ambition. Almeria, who had now recovered her strength, was one morning sitting in her own room, meditating arrangements for the next winter’s campaign, when she was roused by the voices of Lady Bab and Lady Kitty at her room door. “Miss Turnbull! Miss Turnbull! come! come!--Here’s the king and queen and all the royal family, and my aunt Pierrepoint--come quick to our dressing-room windows, or they will be out of sight.” The fair hoydens seized her between them, and dragged her away. “Mamma says it’s horribly vulgar to run to the windows, but never mind that. There’s my aunt Pierrepoint’s coach--is not it handsome?--Oh! everything about her is so handsome!--you know she has lived all her life at court.” The eulogiums of these young ladies, and the sight of Lady Pierrepoint’s entry in to Cheltenham in the wake of royalty, and the huzzas of the mob, and the curiosity of all ranks who crowded the public walks in the evening, to see the illustrious guest, contributed to raise our heroine’s enthusiasm. She was rather surprised afterwards to observe that Lady Pierrepoint passed her sister and nieces, on the public walk, without taking the slightest notice of them; her head was turned indeed quite another way when she passed, and she was in smiling conversation with one of her own party. Lady Gabriella whispered, “My aunt Pierrepoint cannot _know_ us now, because we are with mamma.”