CHAPTER XXVIII.

A NEW ACQUAINTANCE-INQUIRIES.

"All manners take a tincture from our own."

Amongst the earliest of their visitors was the Marquis of Swansbeck. Sir John Scarsbrook and he had been, notwithstanding the difference of their ages (as the Marquis was upwards of forty) very close friends. He came accompanied by his young and beautiful wife-one of those Venus-like figures, sometimes nursed by southern Italy, from whence, indeed, he had brought her, after a prolonged absence from England.

The Marquis was one of those characters sometimes met with in society whom nobody likes, although having about them every requisite for being beloved. He was a fine and classical figure, and richly endowed with moral and intellectual excellences; but he had in his manner a distant and stately reserve, a kind of concealed haughtiness, that kept his fellows at bay, and seemed to place a gulf between them. Nobody could exactly say why they did not like him, and yet most people did not like him-Martial's epigram on Sabidis was the only reason which could be given for it—

"Non amo te Sabidi, nec possum dicere quare.
Hob tantum possum dicere-non amo te."

Scarsbrook and the Marquis had, however, some points in common, and having been thrown a good

deal together during a continental tour, they had become fast friends. Whatever the opinion of the world might be as to the unamiable disposition of this nobleman, it was clear that he had private. virtues of no common order, from the deep and passionate attachment of his young wife. She seemed to hang upon him with an entire dependence, which even the conventional modes of the circle in which they were placed had been unable to overcome. Her history was almost as little known as that of Anne; she had come into the midst of the throng and excitement of fashionable life several seasons before, like a "spirit of light," as the Marchioness of Swansbeck. Rumour, of course, was busily at work, but nothing had been elicited as to her birth, parentage, and education, beyond the mere assertion, that she was the daughter of a noble house in Italy.

The personal history of the Marquis, it was whispered, was romantic, and tinged with remarkable colours. This, however, seemed to be rather a vague surmise than any thing else. Certain it is, that many years ago, after moving as a star of the first magnitude in the fashionable hemisphere of London, he had been shunned by his family, and had left England abruptly-why, or wherefore, had never been explained.

The three ladies were much charmed with each other. Phidias might have modelled a group of Juno, Venus, and Io from them; and as they were much together, they went in their coterie under the name of the lovely triad. Balls, fêtes champetres, and soireès, were the order of the day, and the fortnight the party had intended to make the limit of their stay, had been already exceeded, Lady Haggerton was pleased that the incessant round of amusement kept her brother and Anne apart; and she hoped, that in the rush and hurry

of public life he might, to some extent, have his regard lessened, nursed as it had been in solitude, and heightened, she believed, by his abstraction from society. In the crowd of lovely women who were daily before him, comprising all that was noble and fascinating in the sex, she indulged in the expectation, that his love for the foundling might be superceded by some more fitting bride. In this wish her ladyship was actuated by the best motives towards Anne and her brother, nor did it prevent her treating her with the kindness of a sister.

It was impossible, however, to conceal from Sir John and from Anne these feelings, though they were most scrupulously guarded. Shakspeare said very quaintly, but very truly, that— ·

"Love's feelings are more soft and sensible
Than are the horns of cockled snails;"

And she had now and then the mortification of seeing a slight cloud upon their countenances, as she urged a prolonged stay in town. She forgot Corneille's truism, that

"Un veritable amant ne connoit point d'amis,"

and she saw herself in a fair way for precipitating an event, which she felt would be hazardous to the happiness of two beings, both dear to her.

Sir John had paid more than one visit to the Foundling Hospital, in the hope that he might find some clue to unravel the mystery of Anne's origin. Her memory, however, was not sufficiently exact as to dates, to enable him to find any entry in the books of the institution which appeared to relate to her. There was a brief notice of a certain number of children having been sent to John Manford; but

they were not named, so that he was left to wade and ponder through a long list, without the slightest clue, except the name, to guide him. As far as he could learn from the officials, children were frequently brought there, having about them, either some remarkable article of dress, or some particular mark, which were regularly registered; that as to names, they were bestowed arbitrarily, and according to the fancies of the nurses. He had, however, no means of ascertaining Anne's exact age, and amongst the many Annes he knew not which to select. She seemed to have some faint recollection of having carried something from the hospital, perhaps a particular registry of her entrance, or some article belonging to herself; but the change of scene, and the stirring incidents immediately following her arrival at Manfords, had so confused and checked her remembrances, that she found it impossible to recall any thing distinctly. This rendered an application to Manford needful, and from this the baronet shrunk; neither did he think it likely that any information could be procured from him, even were he disposed to give it.

In this dilemma the baronet remained, till the time arrived when they had determined to quit London for Alton House. The Marquis and Marchioness of Swansbeck accompanied them, and the beginning of July found them in the castellated mansion of Haggerton's forefathers, one of those noble relics of old English architecture, that lend so great a charm to a country, filled with historical memories.

CHAPTER XXIX.

DETERMINATION.

"The idea of her love did sweetly creep,
Into his study of imagination."

Much ado about Nothing.

In the romantic and sequestered scenery surrounding Alton House, Anne and Sir John Scarsbrook drank still more deeply at the fountain of love. Nature, charming as she ever is, has a powerful influence upon the affections, and in their long and solitary walks, it seemed as if love had shed

"A baptism on the flowers."

Anne abandoned herself to the intoxication of her passion, and her devotion was repaid by the baronet, by the most ardent and delicate attention.

Spite of the gently-murmured remonstrances of his sister, he determined on uniting himself with the foundling. His imaginative and enthusiastic temperament, had been taken captive, and Anacreon said truly that—

"All defence to folly turns,

When, within, the battle burns."

The earl was still more decided in his objections,

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