"I do not understand you," said Lady Glenmore, still unconscious of his drift, and her attention caught by some one who was entering, and causing a considerable stir. She hoped it was Lord Glenmore, which made her ask suddenly what o'clock it was. "I am sure," she added, "it must be very late, and I fear Lady Tenderden is not coming; and Glenmore, too, said he would come; but I begin to be afraid they _neither_ of them will;" and her countenance changed, and another spirit than that of girlish amusement took possession of her, and she became silent, overcast, and disquieted. "Were they to come _together_?" asked Mr. Leslie Winyard, insidiously laying a peculiar emphasis on the last word. "Oh no!--that is to say, not that I know of. Lady Tenderden did not tell me so." Mr. Leslie Winyard half smiled, and then, as if checking himself, he rejoined carelessly, "Oh! you know these diplomatists are the most slippery fellows imaginable; that is their trade: they are so taken up with the affairs of the nation, they forget all other affairs. But it _is_ odd that Lady Tenderden also should have forgotten her engagement to you." Lady Glenmore made no reply, but she became more and more uneasy: her colour went and came "like colours o'er the morning skies." She looked anxiously around, and started at every step that seemed to pass the door of her box, but yet, remembering certain lessons she had received, she contrived to keep under her uneasiness. "Is there any thing I can do?" said Mr. Leslie Winyard, with an air of interest and concern. "I am afraid you are not well. Would you like to go home? I dare say my carriage is at the door, if yours is not arrived, and that you would do me the honour to accept it." "Oh no!" she replied; "I am equally obliged to you, but I shall await the end of the performance." Mr. Leslie Winyard now thought it was necessary to use all his art, to draw off her attention from the subject that engrossed it, and, if possible, fix it on himself. "I am not apt," he said, "to be often in good-humour with myself; in truth, I have not much reason; but I am half inclined to suppose there must be some redeeming clause in my composition, for I have frequently observed that, after an hour or two of this sort of thing, you grow restless and weary, and I declare I always feel the same. I plume myself mightily in having discovered this similarity between us." "Pardon me, you are quite mistaken. I am often exceedingly well diverted in public; and when Lord Glenmore is with me," and she blushed, as if she had said something she ought not, "I am generally well pleased to stay late, for I am never sleepy." Mr. Leslie Winyard thought that it was more troublesome to counteract nature by art, than overcome art itself by art, as he replied,