"O, no; that is a chameleon in man's clothing. He breathes air, he eats air, he speaks air; and a most pestilential breath it is. Only observe how he is pouring its fumes into the ear of yonder sable statue." Pembroke directed his eyes as Miss Dundas desired him, and saw Dr. Denton whispering and bowing before a lady in black. The lady put up her lip: the doctor proceeded; she frowned: he would not be daunted; the lady rose from her seat, and slightly bending her head, crossed the room. Whilst Mr. Somerset was contemplating her graceful figure, and fine though pale features, Miss Dundas touched his arm, and smiling satirically, repeated in an affected voice-- "Hail, pensive nun! devout and holy! Hail, divinest Melancholy!" "If she be Melancholy," returned Pembroke, "I would forever say "Hence, unholy Mirth, of Folly born!" Miss Dundas reddened. She never liked this interesting woman, who was not only too handsome for competition, but possessed an understanding that would not tolerate ignorance or presumption. Diana's ill-natured impertinence having several times received deserved chastisement from that quarter, she was vexed to the soul when Pembroke closed his animated response with the question, "Who is she?" Rather too bitterly for the design on his heart, Miss Dundas iterated his words, and then answered, "Why, she is crazed. She lives in a place called Harrowby Abbey, at the top of that hill," continued she, pointing through the opposite window to a distant rising ground, on which the moon was shining brightly; "and I am told she frightens the cottagers out of their wits by her midnight strolls." Hardly knowing how to credit this wild account, Pembroke asked his informer if she were serious. "Never more so. Her eyes are uncommonly wild." "You must be jesting," returned he; "they seem perfectly reasonable." Miss Dundas laughed, "like Hamlet's, they 'know not seems, but have that within which passeth show!' Believe me, she is mad enough for Bedlam; and of that I could soon convince you. I wonder how Lady Shafto thought of inviting her, she quite stupefied our dinner." "Well," cried Pembroke, "if those features announce madness, I shall never admire a look of sense again." "Bless us," exclaimed Miss Dundas, "you are wonderfully struck! Don't you see she is old enough to be your mother?" "That maybe," answered he, smiling; "nevertheless she is one of the most lovely women I ever beheld." Come, tell me her name." "I will satisfy you in a moment," rejoined Diana; "and then away with your rhapsodies! She is the very Countess of Tinemouth, who brought that vagabond foreigner to our house who would have run off with Phemy!" "Lady Tinemouth!" exclaimed Pembroke; "I never saw her before. My ever-lamented mother knew her whilst I was abroad, and she esteemed her highly. Pray introduce me to her!"