"Oh, nonsense, nonsense!" she answered; "ugliness has nothing to do with it; many a woman will marry the ugliest man in the world sooner than not marry at all; and besides, you ought to have a good fortune, Colonel Manners; and that is a great thing. But, I can tell you, you will certainly never find a wife, as you say, unless you ask some one." The draught was bitter enough; but Manners was indomitable, and answered still gayly, "Nay, nay, Lady Barbara, I am so diffident of my own merits, and so completely convinced that no one will ever fall in love with my beautiful countenance, that I shall certainly never marry till some lady asks me. It would require that proof, at least, to convince me that I had any chance of being loved." "And if any lady were to ask you," continued the unmerciful Lady Barbara, "would you really marry her after all, Colonel Manners?" "I believe I may answer that it would depend upon circumstances," replied Colonel Manners, with a grave smile; "as, unfortunately for my happiness, your ladyship's marriage has put you out of the question." "Oh, do not let me be in the way in the least degree," rejoined Mr. Simpson from the other side of the table. De Vaux was fairly driven to a laugh; and Lady Barbara, beginning to find out that there was an error somewhere, paused for a moment, and went on with her dinner. However skilfully and courageously a man may struggle against his own feelings on those points where they have intrenched themselves by long habit and possession, yet, when forced by circumstance to treat as a matter of common conversation subjects that are habitually painful to him, there are slight traits--each almost imperceptible, but making something in the aggregate--which will betray what is going on within; sometimes to the eyes of another man, and almost always to those of a woman. A degree of bitterness will mingle with his gaiety; a sigh will sometimes tread upon the heels of a smile; and a deeper gravity will follow the transient, superficial laugh, and distinguish the true from the assumed. Women, by a more refined nature, by a necessity of concealing their own feelings under various disguises, and by the habit of judging others by slight indications, are rendered infinitely more capable of penetrating the veil with which we are often obliged to cover our deeper sentiments. Both Marian de Vaux and Isadore Falkland were at once in Colonel Manners's secret, and comprehended, without difficulty, how much was jest and how much was earnest in his replies to Lady Barbara. Both felt for him, too, and both were sorry for him; and as Marian, in consequence of her generous interposition in his favour, already suffered somewhat too much by her Ladyship's answers touching matrimony, to dare the field again, Isadore entered upon the campaign with greater power, and did her best to effect a diversion. In this she was tolerably successful, though Colonel