During the evening, Mr. Delamere took an opportunity of asking Miss Aubrey who wrote the verses to which he pointed, as they lay on the piano. The handwriting, she said, was hers, but the verses were composed by her brother. He asked for the copy, with a slight trepidation. She readily gave it to him--he receiving it with (as he supposed) a mighty unconcerned air. He read it over that night, before getting into bed, at least six times; and it was the very first thing he looked at on getting out of bed in the morning. Now Miss Aubrey certainly wrote an elegant hand--but as for _character_, of course it had none. He could scarcely have distinguished it from the writing of any of his cousins or friends;--How should he? All women are taught the same hard, angular, uniform style--but good, bad, or indifferent, this was _Kate Aubrey's_ handwriting--and her pretty hand had rested on the paper while writing--that was enough. He resolved to turn the verses into every kind of Greek and Latin metre he knew of-- In short, that here was a "course of true love" _opened_, seems pretty evident: but whether it will "run smooth" is another matter. Their guests having at length departed, Mr. Aubrey, his wife, and sister, soon afterwards rose to retire. He went, very sleepy, straight to his dressing-room; they to the nursery--(a constant and laudable custom with them)--to see how the children were going on, as far as could be learned from the drowsy attendants of the aforesaid children. Little Aubrey would have reminded you of one of the exquisite sketches of children's heads by Reynolds or Lawrence, as he lay breathing imperceptibly, with his rich flowing hair spread upon the pillow, in which his face was partly hid, and his arms stretched out. Mrs. Aubrey put her finger into one of his hands, which was half open, and which closed as it were instinctively upon it, with a gentle pressure. "Look--only look--Kate!" softly whispered Mrs. Aubrey. Miss Aubrey leaned forward and kissed his little cheek with an ardor which almost awoke him. After a glance at a tiny head partly visible above the clothes, in an adjoining bed, and looking like a rosebud almost entirely hid among the leaves, they withdrew. "The little loves!--how one's heart thrills with looking at them!" said Miss Aubrey as they descended. "Kate!" whispered Mrs. Aubrey, with an arch smile, as they stood at their respective chamber doors, which adjoined, "Mr. Delamere is improved--is not he?--Ah, Kate! Kate!--I understand!" "Agnes, how can you"--hastily answered Miss Aubrey, with cheeks suddenly crimsoned. "I never heard such nonsense"----