Ah, why did they show you into this room?" cried Lucy, looking round it, and struggling to suppress a pensive sigh; "do you know we could not breakfast in it if you had given us worlds, and that is the reason why mamma chose another."

"And you cannot imagine the melancholy sensation which overpowered me on my first entrance into it this morning," said Lord Beauverie; "I looked around me, and could no more behold the smiling happy faces which used to greet me with the warmest welcomes on my arrival here, but most of all I miss the lively little gipsy Mary."

"And so do I," cried Lucy, the tears again starting to her lovely eyes; "Mary was the darling and the pride of all our hearts,-dear Emma, too! oh, how I love Emma Bradbury!-Oh, my Lord, you do not know what a heart beats in that ever pure and artless bosom, so gentle, indeed, that nothing seems to ruffle her; yet her sensibility and feeling is as great as any of us. Oh, how happy I shall be to hear that she is married to cousin Tanjore! I cannot think the reason why they do not marry, for, oh, how tenderly they love each other, and how long-ever since I can remember-Emma has loved Tanjore; she tried to hide it from us all, but could not,—ah, no, true love cannot be concealed, can it, my Lord?"

There was a blush and a smile on Lucy's lovely face as she uttered this, and Lord Beauverie caught her hand, and, pressing it to his lips, exclaimed,—

"No, Lucy, neither a man of honor nor a virtuous delicate female ever wishes to conceal a passion of which they have no reason to feel ashamed; it is then their greatest pride to acknowledge it, and to reward

the faithful heart which they are assured beats for them alone."

What further conversation passed between them we know not, but it was certainly of the most tender nature, for a little bird whispered in the ears of Mr. and Mrs. Clarendale that the happy day was fixed for their nuptials, since the preceding conversation had taken place that morning.

When Lord Beauverie made his appearance, he was deeply concerned to find the spirits of Mrs. Clarendale so greatly oppressed, and that the amiable Lady Wyndham was indisposed; and proposed and suggested every plan that he could think of, to arouse her from the melancholy which the absence of her beloved relatives had thrown around her.

The official duties of Mr. Henry Clarendale obliged him to set off immediately for Kenilworth, where his presence could not any longer be reasonably dispensed with; but he proposed that Mrs. Clarendale and Lucy should remain in town some weeks longer, to be near Lady Wyndham, whose delicate state of health now required the most endearing attentions of all her friends.

"That is exactly what I have been saying," cried Lord Wyndham: "if she loses the society of her aunt she will be lost indeed; but what do you think she wanted to do?-why, to set off this very day with her uncle to Kenilworth, taking the boy along with her. Now, this arrangement I should not have the slightest objection to, provided it could be of benefit to my Alexina; but you know, my dear Madam, at the present crisis, Kenilworth is the last place possible likely to enliven or cheer her spirits. There is the White

Cottage, the favorite retreat of her father and mother, to which she would naturally resort, to contemplate on the lost society of her dear absent friends; and there is also another spot which would as naturally engage her attention, and call forth the most melancholy reflections-the grave of her poor brother William and her aunt Rebecca. Now, these are objects which she cannot look upon without feeling strong emotion, which her present delicate situation could ill support the conflict of; I must therefore positively prohibit her going to Kenilworth under the existing circumstances I have just named, to which I beseech you to add your kind influence to deter her from any such intention."

Assuredly, my Lord," cried Mrs. Clarendale, "you are perfectly right in the supposition that it will be more injurious than likely to restore her to tranquillity. I shall therefore instantly take a ride over to my dear niece, and tell her that I intend to be her guest for some weeks longer."

"My carriage is waiting at the door, my dear Madam, on purpose to convey you and Lucy thither, in which, my Lord Beauverie, if you will also take a place, I shall be proud and happy," cried Lord Wyndham.

"Lucy, what are you pulling to pieces there, my love?" exclaimed Mrs. Clarendale, on perceiving that Lucy looked excessively confused, and blushed deeply at something that Lord Beauverie had been whispering in her ear.

"A beautiful carnation, mamma; but indeed it is not my fault, it is Lord Beauverie's,-you must lecture him, for do you know that he is so teazing,

because

before.

Lucy blushed still deeper than

"Because what, my dear?" cried Mrs. Clarendale, smiling; "why don't you finish your sentence?"

"Because Lord Beauverie knows how to finish it much better," answered Lucy.

"Bravo, Miss Clarendale," cried Lord Wyndham, laughing heartily; "now, my Lord, you have received a very fair challenge; Mrs. Clarendale, don't let him off, he shall finish this sentence before we arrive in South Audley Street."

"With the greatest pleasure imaginable," answered Lord Beauverie, and taking the hand of Lucy, followed Lord Wyndham and Mrs. Clarendale to the carriage, which immediately proceeded to his Lordship's elegant mansion in South Audley Street.

CHAPTER XXXI.

"Mere rogues!—but they are friends!
"One is his printer, in disguise, and keeps

"His press in a hollow tree, where, to conceal him,
"He works by glow-worm light-the moon's too open
"The other zealous rag is the compositor,

"Who, in an angle where the ants inhabit,

"(The emblem of his labour,) will sit, curled,
"Whole days and rights, and work his eyes out."

IN a few days, Lady Wyndham, cheered by the presence of her amiable aunt's society, the fond attentions of an affectionate and adoring husband, and the active preparations which were now making for the nuptials of the Earl of Beauverie with her lovely cousin, soon recovered from the deep melancholy which had oppressed her, and she was not suffered a moment to dwell on the recollection of her absent friends. Lord Beauverie, with a kind and tender consideration for the delicate state of her Ladyship's health, devised every means he could think of to afford her amusement, and really supplied the place of an affectionate brother to the heart of the suffering Alexina; and Mrs. Clarendale, who had never left her, according to the promise which she had pledged to Mrs. Trelawney, always to be near her till the period of her accouchement should take place, resided