How far Lord Albert might have found it possible to agree with Lady Tilney in this new question, so suddenly started, it was not left him to discover; for at that moment fresh visitors were announced--and, as they entered, Lord Albert prepared to depart. Not, however, till Lady Tilney--who, spite of what she called his false theories, saw he was a person by no means to be hastily rejected--had bidden him to her box at the Opera on Saturday evening. "I am determined to be at the rising of the curtain," she said, "to hear the Sontag--only it is so difficult to be in time. Were you ever in time in your life?"-- "Yes, I have," answered Lord Albert, smiling. "Then be at the very _premier congé d'arche_ on Saturday," added Lady Tilney, as he bowed to her and left the apartment; glad to have gotten over a visit of ceremony, where, from the tone of conversation which had passed, he augured that little in future would be found consonant to his ideas or his tastes. As he rode from the door, Lord Albert turned his horse towards the Park. It was one of the first Spring days that had shone in the early year, and all the gayest of London seemed hastening to enjoy its genial influence.--Yes, even the weary and the _blazé_ in life's crooked paths appeared for a moment to acknowledge the charm which the brilliancy of the scene and the brightness of the atmosphere combined to form. Smiles were in every face and cheerfulness in every movement. Than the throng of Hyde Park there is perhaps no promenade in Europe more dazzling; none where more magnificence of equipage, or more beauty of human form is displayed; and it is difficult for the young, and the handsome more particularly, not to feel intoxicated as they enter on a stage where the whole appearance is so fair, and where a consciousness of personal charms assures them they must themselves shine.--It is not probable that Lord Albert D'Esterre, philosophical as he has just appeared while discoursing with Lady Tilney, was altogether free from feelings so natural to his years, or from that species of vanity which seeks a display of personal beauty, or whatever other quality may best glitter in such a scene. He was young, strikingly handsome, possessing a form of perfect symmetry, and moreover one of the finest horsemen of his time. What wonder then if, as he sought the crowded road of the Park, something like self-love had a share in the direction which he took, and the choice made of the spot where he might breathe the balmy air of such a day. As he joined some of his acquaintances in the Ride, and stopped to speak to others, passing from right to left and from north to south in the gay and splendid crowd, his recollections were naturally turned to similar parades in other countries, and he felt pride as an Englishman in considering how far our national display of beauty and of wealth outshone that of other capitals.