Lord Glenmore and Lord Albert prolonged their discussion to a late hour--so late that Lord Glenmore pressed him to remain and dine. "We have no company to-day," he said, "and Lady Glenmore will excuse your toilette." The invitation was too acceptable to be refused, and they passed into the drawing-room, where they found Lady Glenmore all smiles and beauty; for the idea of enjoying her husband's company had again restored her to her wonted placid happiness. The conversation took that happy course which it ever does when similarity of tastes directs the subjects; and as the minds of these young men were not only of a superior cast, but their manners too formed on that refined model which, when it is accompanied by intellectual power, gives grace to force, their social intercourse was truly such, as one likes to think is the sample of a high-born, high-bred British nobleman. Lady Glenmore listened with no insipid mawkish indifference, even to matters beyond her ken, and the remark she ventured now and then to slide in was one that bespoke a diffident, but not deficient understanding. A delighted glance of approbation occasionally escaped from Lord Glenmore, in homage to his wife, and as Lord Albert beheld this married happiness, he could not help sighing, as he thought "such might have been mine;" and he almost unconsciously drew a parallel between Lady Glenmore and Adeline, in which he did not deceive himself in giving the decided palm to the latter. When he was preparing to depart, he found it was so late that he drove home; but when there, the same incapacity to settle himself to any occupation which he had before experienced, returned, and he fancied that he might yet be in time for an hour of the ballet. So he ordered his carriage, made a brief toilette, and drove to the Opera-house. "It is too late," he thought, "to go to South Audley Street; I shall disturb Lady Dunmelraise;" but yet the idea that he had not called upon her that day haunted him painfully.