Notwithstanding the graces of her person and richness of her attire, there were many bright and beautiful beings present who attracted more attention than the timid and retiring Lilian Napier; but in her whole air and manner it is not easy to imagine a girl more exquisitely lady-like. Her long eyelashes were drooped upon her soft and changing cheek, veiling her soft glances, and imparting to her eyes an expression of timidity and modesty, which lent additional charms to the fine features of her adorable little face. The ball delighted, the music exhilarated her; and she soon raised her head, like a flower when the dew is past. Her blue eyes were full of animation; her cheek was flushed; the most enchanting grace was in all her motions. She was glorious; and Walter felt that he adored her. Her friend, gay Annie, outshone her in showy and dazzling beauty; but to those who knew and loved the winning manner of Lilian, and beheld how her cheek mantled with the emotions of her heart, while her eyes beamed with the purest good-nature and vivacity, she was indeed one without a peer (as the King said of her mailed ancestor), and one fair star that charms us thus, is worth a thousand of those brighter planets that shine alike on all. But nothing could be more brilliant than the loveliness of Annie. Tall, full, and graceful, in all the bloom of twenty, and radiant with health, white satin, and diamonds, she excited the admiration of her companions, while little Lilian touched their hearts. There were many fair girls present, who, like mistress Laurie, had in their manners a considerable dash of Parisian coquetry, which is always excessively attractive to beaux, though a timid and retiring girl, like Lilian, is sure, in the end, to prove the most loveable and devoted. At that time, the _tone_ of society in Edinburgh was very different from what it had been during the rampant reign of Presbyterianism, and equally so from that which characterized it twenty years afterwards, when the gloom, depression, and humiliation of the country, and the empty desolation of the capital "communicated to the manners and fashions of society a stiff reserve, precise moral carriage, and a species of decorum amounting to moroseness." At the period of our narrative, it was very different. The recent residence of foreign ambassadors and influence of a court, the existence of a parliament--(for _centralization_, that grand curse of Scotland, was then unknown)--the long intercourse with France, in the armies of which all younger sons and cavaliers of good family took a turn of service, had communicated a lightness to the manners of the aristocracy, very different indeed from the "moroseness" which succeeded the Revolution, and still more so that great national paralysis, the Union, which was so long a source of regret to our grandfathers.