replies to the questions which his Lordship had addressed to her, and conscious that they were so, exhibited the strongest symptoms of mortification, fearful that his Lordship might suppose that she did not understand him. Under these painful emotions, Lucy was not at all sorry when the and other peropera formances were finally concluded, Mary several times exclaiming to her,— "Gracious, Lucy, what on earth is the matter with you? The opera has been one of the grandest I ever witnessed, and yet you have been sitting the whole of the evening as if you were quite insensible of the pleasures which have surrounded you." To which Lucy replied, "It is very true, I have been sitting on thorns the whole of the evening, Mary, and that is the truth of it.” "And why?" cried Mary; "it is very strange, when Lord Beauverie has been paying you such attention; I protest he has not thought proper to talk to any body else.” "That is the very reason," cried Lucy; "if he had I should not have felt so confused, and I have no doubt but he has formed a very strange opinion of the meanness of my intellect, for I don't think I answered him reasonably one single question that he asked during the whole of the evening. Once he inquired if I was fond of music? and I said I did not know; then if I liked the opera? and I answered I could not tell surely his Lordship must take me for an absolute fool." On these words, pronounced by poor Lucy almost in a crying tone, Mary burst into a most immoderate and irresistible fit of laughter, which greatly added to the already mortified feelings of her lovely cousin, and she exclaimed, "How unkind of you, Mary Trelawney, to laugh at my misfortunes." To which Mary, still laughing, replied,— "And how ridiculous of you, Lucy Clarendale, to make misfortunes where you had no occasion; and as to laughing at you, I protest I cannot help it when I think of your folly and weakness,-why, a child of five years old could have told whether they liked a thing or not; however, though I have been laughing at you, I will give you some consolation." "And what is that?" cried Lucy. To which Mary, assuming the utmost gravity, replied, 66 Why, I have been told that when people fall in love they become fools, because they act very sillily, and do not at all know what they are about; so you will have an excellent reason for giving such foolish replies to Lord Beauverie,—he will think you are in love, and will very readily pardon you." "But I am very sure that I have no such excuse to plead in my behalf," cried Lucy, now deeply blushing, to the no small amusement of the tormenting Mary; "I am not in love." "How do you know, Lucy ?" "Because -because- -I should then be able to describe it to you," repeated Lucy, in the utmost confusion. "But it is not to be described, I have heard," cried Mary," so you cannot describe it to me, Lucy, even you feel it; but when it comes to me, I will tell you what it is like, for certainly that thing must be strange if indeed which nobody can describe; but Mrs. Pelham says I have the power of description better than any one she ever knew, so I will tell you all about it when I feel it myself, though you feel it, Lucy, and cannot tell what it is like." "I don't feel any such thing, Mary, how can you say so?" cried Lucy, blushing more deeply than she had yet done. Whether Lucy felt it or not we cannot determine, but it was very certain that Lord Beauverie did in the highest sense of honor and affection, for the morning after they had been at the Opera he paid a visit to Berkeley Square, and requested a private interview with Mr. Clarendale, which was immediately granted in Mr. Trelawney's library, when the Earl addressed him in the following manner : "Mr. Clarendale, I am a man of few words, nor do I ever make professions that I do not feel; without disguise, then, permit me to inform you that I am charmed with your lovely daughter; I ask no further questions than the one,-Are the affections, or the hand of Miss Clarendale engaged? You as her father can answer that question as one man of honor should do to another, in which I have a much stronger motive than curiosity when I thus take the liberty of making the inquiry. If your reply is in the affirmative, I will proceed no further in a disclosure of my sentiments; if in the negative, have I permission to offer her my hand? This, Sir, is my motive for intruding myself this morning in Berkeley Square,-I love your daughter, and the questions I have asked you are important, and essentially necessary to my peace and happiness On which Mr. Clarendale, after a moment's pause, Immediately replied, 66 1 My Lord, to say that I do not feel highly honored by the very candid and handsome manner in which you are pleased to address me, would be inconsistent with the very great love I have for truth, and the sincerity I ever wish to adopt towards my fellowbeings. My child has been reared in the bosom of humble happiness and retiring shades, far removed from the scenes of the great world, and wholly ignorant of its customs; she has received an education such as my prescribed circumstances in life could af ford her, nor did I wish her to receive more, and though not highly polished, she is yet full in the perfection of virtue and innocence; and I will avouch that her virgin spotless heart is free from any impression of a tender nature, other than that she owes to her parents and friends, You cannot suppose, my Lord, that your seeking an alliance with one so unequal in rank and fortune, does not fill me with wonder, with astonishment; but at the same moment permit me to say, that it calls forth my admiration, my respect, my gratitude, and after this you cannot want my permission to approach my daughter,-she is yours, if you are generous enough to take her without a portion, for I have none to give her." "I do not ask, nor do I expect it, Mr. Clarendale,” exclaimed Lord Beauverie; "my own fortune and rank in life is sufficient to make your daughter independent of the world, and to place her in that exalted station which her merits are entitled to. I ask nothing but her heart, her hand, and her angelic person; and having now obtained your sanction, my utmost wishes are accomplished. This evening I will do myself the honor of unfolding the disclosure of my sentiments to the lovely Lucy, previous to which, Mr. Clarendale, I wish you to apprise Miss Clarendale of the nature of my intentions." "Your Lordship's commands shall be implicitly obeyed," cried Mr. Clarendale; and Lord Beauverie, without again returning to the drawing-room, got into his carriage, and immediately drove away. CHAPTER XXX. "Hail to thee! wild and beautiful power! 66 "Thou all-pervading spirit, Who, enthron'd in heaven's own holiest bower, "Whose mysterious smile to the sous of men "As an amulet is given, "To preserve from dark destruction, when "Thy voice is sweet as lone echoes are, "Breathe music's own fondest tale." To say that the private conference between the Earl of Beauverie and Mr. Henry Clarendale was not guessed at by Mr. and Mrs. Trelawney, would not be doing justice to the affectionate solicitude and tender F. P. 4 M |