But by degrees, this confusion of mind subsided; and then came that soothing composure, which, after a state of emotion, is always welcomed with something like pleasure. He opened a favourite author, Owen Feltham; and he could not read long, without seeing his own necessities reflected in the page, as in a glass; this is one way by which to prove whether a moral or religious work be sterling or not, does it apply to our necessities? does it first probe, and then salve our wounds? Lord Albert D'Esterre found this book did both; and in its perusal, there was a sanctity of enjoyment to which he had been long a stranger. This enjoyment was, however, too soon disturbed by his servant bringing in a note; he felt it as an unwelcome intrusion; but it was opened after a moment's hesitation, and contained the following words: "I am anxious to know how you really are. I too am unwell, and I dread lest I should have have said or done something this morning, which may have offended you--oh! if you know how terrible it is for those who have none to care for them, to suppose for an instant that they have given pain (however, unwittingly) to the only person whose good opinion they are anxious to possess, and who has evinced an interest in their welfare--you would now feel for me. I am not of those who make a display of their heart's feelings--far from it, I am a miser of the few treasures which lie hoarded there; it is for that reason that I mingle with the rest, as though I were one of _them_; and that I am now writing these troubled lines in the midst of the insipid turmoil which surrounds me; _tout comme si de rien étoit_. Aid me in bearing my grievous burthen of existence, and send me one line to be a cordial for the moment at least; the present moment's ease is all I ever hope for." What an overturn to all composure was conveyed in this little bit of perfumed paper; fifty commencements of reply were made and torn; at last he rang his bell, summoned his valet, and having given a verbal answer to the effect that he would shortly obey the commands of Lady Hamlet Vernon, he appeared in the drawing-room almost as soon as she could have expected a written reply. She was sitting apart from the rest of the company with a look of abstractedness and melancholy, the effect of which was heightened by extreme paleness; her beautiful dark hair was less carefully arranged than the laws of fashion demanded, but it was not the less beautiful for that, and some stray tresses fell gracefully upon her neck; her air, her dress, the subdued expression of her eyes, were all captivating, and precisely in Lord Albert's _own_ way.