His eyes, when he began to speak, were fixed upon Lady Blanche, who was diligently picking to pieces the bouquet she held in her hand; (Mr. Wroxholme was telling her what a good-hearted fellow Frank De Molton was at school, and how kind he had been to a poor boy who had been run over by a cart;) but as he finished his sentence, he withdrew his most penetrating and disagreeable eyes from the couple, whose feelings he, for once, misinterpreted, and let them fall gently and fixedly on Lady Westhope. "I can assure you, you are perfectly mistaken in this instance," Lady Westhope replied with some quickness. "Lady Blanche is only likely to be perseveringly, foolishly, constant; and as to Mr. Wroxholme's being in love with her, it is quite out of the question." "Why out of the question?" asked Mr. Stapleford, with the most provoking matter-of-fact coolness. Lady Westhope did not very well know why it was so; but she answered-- "Oh, he is not the sort of man to fall in love with Blanche." "He is an odd sort of man, then, if it is out of the question for him to fall in love with one of the handsomest girls in London, who plucks off every leaf of a beautiful camellia while he is talking to her! A prepossession in another quarter might steel a man's heart even against such attractions as those I have alluded to; and I have no doubt Lady Westhope is better versed in the mysterious workings of the human heart than I can pretend to be. I must bow therefore to her superior knowledge of the state of Mr. Wroxholme's affections;"--and, with a supercilious bow, he joined a knot of politicians. Lady Westhope felt prodigiously annoyed. She could not tell why she disliked so much to hear that Mr. Wroxholme was in love with Lady Blanche. There was no harm in it if he was. She looked upon him as a man with whom a woman might be very happy; and, although not rich, he had a competency. Why was she so certain he entertained no particular preference for her friend? and why did she feel aggrieved at the suspicion? It could not be that, at her age, after having passed unscathed through all the trials of her youth, her own heart was in any danger? What a humiliating, what a degrading surmise! She felt almost ashamed of suspecting herself of such a weakness; one that she would always have thought criminal, but that now would be ridiculous as well as criminal. It was evident, however, that Mr. Stapleford did suspect her of harbouring so ridiculous a prepossession, and she scrutinized her own feelings with resolute accuracy.