"The same. She is _the friend_ of Sir Rupert Harborough. I am anxious to see something of the world now and then--and to avail myself of my present garb for that purpose. I accordingly called upon Mrs. Arlington last evening, and learnt 'a lesson of life.' I saw an elegant woman, a baronet, a fashionable gentleman, and a very interesting young man, associating with a vulgar wretch of the name, I believe, of Talbot, whose manners would have disgraced a groom. I must, however, observe that the interesting young gentleman to whom I allude did not seem to be more pleased with the conversation and conduct of this vulgarian than myself. One coincidence somewhat extraordinary occurred--that same interesting young man was no other than Mr. Richard Markham, one of the sons of----" "Ah! indeed--how singular!" exclaimed George Montague, not waiting till Walter finished his sentence; "very singular!" he added; then, having tossed off a bumper of Madeira, he walked up to the window, where he affected to inhale with delight the exquisite fragrance of the flowers that adorned the casement. CHAPTER X. THE FRAIL ONE'S NARRATIVE. We must now return to Richard Markham. Sir Rupert Harborough and the Honourable Arthur Chichester apparently took a very great fancy to him, for they were constantly making appointments to meet him in town, and hastening to his own house to ferret him out when he did not appear at their usual places of rendezvous. He dined at least three times a week at Mrs. Arlington's, and, to confess the truth, his morning calls were repeated at intervals which gradually grew shorter and shorter. Richard thus frequently passed hours together alone with Diana. In spite of himself he now and then suffered his eyes to rest tenderly upon her countenance; and by degrees her glances encountered his and were not immediately withdrawn. Those glances were so languishing, and withal so melancholy, that they inspired Richard with a passion amounting almost to a delirium; and he felt at times as if he could have caught that beauteous creature in his arms and clasped her rapturously to his bosom. One morning, as he took leave of her, he fancied that her hand gently pressed his own. The idea filled him with a joy till then unknown, and which he could not describe even to himself. On the following morning he called a little earlier than usual. Diana was in a delicious _déshabillé_, which set off her voluptuous person to its very greatest advantage. Richard was more tender than usual--the Enchantress more enchanting. [Illustration] They were seated upon the sofa together; and a pause in their conversation ensued. Richard heaved a deep sigh, and suddenly exclaimed, "I am always thinking of the period when I must bid adieu to your charming society." "Bid adieu!" cried Diana; "and wherefore?" "It must happen, sooner or later, that our ways in the world will be different." "Then you are not your own master?" said Diana, enquiringly.