Few motives are altogether unmixed. Zorilda's private incentive on the present occasion was to evade the awkwardness, which till of late had never been practically distressing to her feelings, of having _no name_. "The little gipsey," "The Spanish girl," passed lightly over her ear at an early period, but now planted a dagger in her heart; and she courted solitude, flying from the presence of even a casual guest. Mrs. Hartland, however, would not dispense with Zoé's company at the tea-table, at which she was obliged to preside; but as the gentlemen were not aware that any metal more attractive than the society of Mrs. Hartland awaited them in the drawing-room, they were slow in making their appearance; and when they did leave the dining parlour, some of the party were certainly not the best society themselves. Elate with wine, they talked and laughed on their way up stairs, in full demonstration of having sacrificed too devoutly at the shrine of the rosy god; but when the drawing-room door was opened, and Zorilda, glowing with modest loveliness, met their astonished view, their boisterous mirth received a sudden check, and they all seemed to feel simultaneously, "how awful beauty is." The Marquess and his satellite wassailers, were struck with amazement at sight of the vision which now presented itself to their eyes, and appeared instinctively to avoid the tea-table at which she sat. A sort of general introduction took place, in which no name, except that of the Marquess, was distinctly heard; while Mr. Playfair, who had protracted his sitting below stairs, in order to act, as far as hospitality would permit, as a _buff-stop_ on the festive gaiety of his pupil, took his station on one side of Zorilda, and Mr. Hartland took possession of a chair on the other. Well pleased to find herself thus guarded, the timid Zoé smiled sweetly on her supporters, and proceeded to perform the mysteries of tea and coffee as priestess of the rites. The reader is not to understand that our guests were inebriated. That expression conveys too strong a meaning. "Flushed with the Tuscan grape," they were still _compos_, and after a short pause the _rumble_ of conversation, like that of a mill-wheel, was heard again to succeed a temporary suspension. "My friend Forbes, Mrs. Hartland," said Lord Turnstock, "is an Irishman, and we have been bantering him on his country. I was just making these gentlemen laugh with the story of an old woman who came to me some time ago requesting my interference to prevent her grandson, who had enlisted, from being sent to the Island of Saints with his regiment. 'Oh my Lord,' said she, 'I shall never see my poor boy again. They says as how that the Romans are all romancing so furious in Hireland.' Was'nt it excellent?" Mrs. Hartland laughed heartily, and Mr. Forbes, a very handsome fine young man, stepped forward, still addressing her as _Chairman_ of the Committee in defence of his native Erin: