The book was not to be found on the library table; Mrs. Hungerford said she believed it was in the Oriel: Sir James went to look--Miss Caroline Percy was drawing from it--that was unlucky, for Mr. Barclay followed, stayed to admire Miss Percy’s drawings, which he had never seen before, and in looking over these sketches of hers from Flaxman’s Homer, and from Euripides and Æschylus, which the Lady Pembrokes showed him, and in speaking of these, he discovered so much of Caroline’s taste, literature, and feeling, that he could not quit the Oriel. Lady Angelica had followed to prevent mischief, and Mrs. Hungerford had followed to enjoy the pleasure of seeing Caroline’s modest merit appreciated. Whilst Mr. Barclay admired in silence, Sir James Harcourt, not with his usual politeness, exclaimed, “I protest I had no notion that Miss Caroline Percy drew in this style!” “That’s possible,” cried Lady Mary Pembroke, colouring with that prompt indignation which she was prone to feel when any thing was said that seemed derogatory to her friends, “that’s possible, Sir James; and yet you find Miss Caroline Percy does draw in this very superior style--yes, and it is the perfection of her accomplishments, that they are never exhibited.” “You have always the pleasure of discovering them,” said Mrs. Hungerford; “they are as a woman’s accomplishments and acquirements ought to be, more retiring than obtrusive; or as my old friend, Dr. South, quaintly but aptly expresses it--more in intaglio than in cameo.” At this instant a sudden scream was heard from Lady Angelica Headingham, who caught hold of Mr. Barclay’s arm, and writhed as if in agony. “Good Heavens! What is the matter?” cried Mr. Barclay. “Oh! cramp! cramp! horrid cramp! in my foot--in my leg!” “Rest upon me,” said Mr. Barclay, “and stretch your foot out.” “Torture!--I can’t.” It was impossible that she could stand without the support of both gentlemen. “Carry me to the sofa--there!”