Julia was the star of the evening, from the contending opinions which circulated upon the subject of her engagement. She was, however, innocent of the sensation she occasioned. Leaning on the arm of her affianced, and accompanied by Lady Ennismore, Julia passed through the groupes who watched her progress, and gave no thought to the whispered observations that floated around her. She was truly happy, truly blessed in her own bright mental anticipations, and in the company of those she loved. She heard no sounds but the heavy enunciation of Ennismore, and the sprightly musical tones of her ladyship. She saw no one distinctly, not even Tom Pynsent, who stood bolt upright before her party, with a remarkably red face. He addressed Miss Wetheral. "I am getting a disagreeable thing over, Miss Wetheral. I heard Miss Julia was engaged to that young sprig after all, and I knew I must meet her some time or other, so I am prepared to do it at once." Julia at that moment caught his eye, and Tom Pynsent bowed with tolerable command of manner. "There, that is over. I wish your sister had given herself to a better sort of fellow. That Lord Ennismore, Miss Wetheral, should not carry such a jewel away from us. She did right to refuse me, if I did not please her fancy, but she ought to have chosen a more likely upstanding fellow than the Staffordshire earl." Anna Maria smiled complacently at the sound of Tom Pynsent's voice, but the subject was distressing. She could not trust herself to continue it. Tom Pynsent nodded and smiled to a group at some distance. "There's Wycherly and Tyndal wishing me joy. They watched me bow to your sister. I'll just tell them they are d--d rascals for their pains." Tom Pynsent walked away to put his threat in execution, but the congratulations of the gentlemen overpowered him. "I say, Pynsent, you bowed like Sir Charles Grandison." "Pynsent, that was mortal agony, wasn't it?" "Tom's a cold," cried young Spottiswoode. "You are all welcome to laugh, gentlemen," said Tom Pynsent, in his invariably good-natured manner. "Some of you are merry because you have not been refused by a woman you like, and half of you rejoice to find the mortification extended to another besides yourselves." Mr. Wycherly turned towards Mr. Pynsent. "My dear fellow, you cause your own vexation by hunting after a woman who does not care for you. Most men run after shadows, and cast away substance. I married Mrs. Wycherly because she took a fancy to me, and let me see at once what she wished and expected. Faith, it saved me a great deal of trouble!" "But no girl cares for me, unless she longs for my money," exclaimed Pynsent, feelingly. "Zounds, man, don't be crestfallen. I know a fine woman at this moment, and in this room, who would take you penniless!" Tom Pynsent looked aghast. "Every body but yourself has observed the thing," said young Spottiswoode. "Haven't they, Tyndal?"