“No, I would accept him on the spot,” cried Dora, giving way to a desperate fit of pique and mortified feeling. “You need not look so scornful, Isabel; I mean what I say.” “Luckily you are not likely to be put to the test,” replied Miss Barham. “But we must go and dress, or the countess will be here before we are ready to go with her.” Dora, however, did not follow her sister’s example; but when the other quitted the room, she remained reclining on the sofa. Her head ached, her heart ached still more; affection wounded, vanity and pride alike outraged; sorrow, real sorrow, a sense of injustice in herself, and of having been all through in the wrong, made her bosom throb, and flushed her cheek, and really rendered her quite unfit for society. She was still sitting languidly thinking, when her father and his guest entered the room. “What is the matter with you, Dora?” said the former, in a voice of unusual kindness; “what makes you look so pensive?” “I am very tired, papa.” “And where is Isabel?” “Dressing to go out.” “And you,” said Charles, approaching her, and standing beside her sofa with looks of devotion, “are you going?” “No, I am tired.” “That expedition to Woolwich was too much for you,” observed her father. “I believe it was,” said she, with tears, half sorrow, half anger, starting to her eyes. “Ah, we will have no more such freaks, little Dora,” said Mr. Barham, “will we, Mr. Huyton? we must take more care of you, my child, in future.” The unusual kindness of her father’s tone went to Dora’s heart. Would he only have been always so, she would have been saved from how much unhappiness; she felt choking, and could make no answer, only laying down her burning cheek upon the pillow. Mr. Huyton drew a chair close beside the end of the sofa, and leaning over toward her, was in the act of whispering some gentle sentiment in her ear, when Isabel entered. “What, Dora, you not dressed! and Lady Fitzurse has been announced as waiting for us.” “Never mind Dora, my love,” said Mr. Barham; “she is not going out to-night; she is over-tired, and had much better stay at home. I shall remain with her. How well you look, Isabel.” So Miss Barham was forced to depart alone, and with rather a rebellious heart, at leaving Dora and Mr. Huyton in such strange proximity. There is sometimes an intuitive perception of what is about to happen, which, against our will, seizes on the heart and forewarns us of evil or disappointment. Isabel, in spite of every wish to the contrary, felt at that moment that Charles Huyton was lost to her: and Dora, with a tumult of emotion she could not attempt to understand, perceived that his intentions were more serious than she had supposed.