"Pooh, pooh! would you run away in disgrace?" A haughty flush suffused Miss Dudley's brow; Lord Wentworth laughed: "My dear child, go to your own room, and compose yourself. Leave the castle, you shall not; nor is your father prepared to receive you, for some months to come."

Florence made no reply, but hurried on. Lady Geraldine, who was counting the minutes, until our heroine rejoined her, started, when she saw traces of tears upon her countenance.

"You have been weeping?"

"Is that remarkable? I have been closeted with Lady Wentworth," said Miss Dudley, bitterly. "Do not keep me in suspense, I implore you." "Lady Wentworth knows all." Geraldine turned very pale. "She knows that Macdonald came to the ball; that you met him in the conservatory; that I kept the door-Mrs. Gerald Herbert, how I hate you!" Florence doubled her white fist, in most pugnacious fashion.

"She is a consummate hypocrite," cried Geraldine, passionately. "I remember seeing her, as I left the conservatory last night. She expressed the most tender anxiety about my health, because a window was open, forsooth!"

"A window open in the conservatory!" cried Florence, "to facilitate Macdonald's escape?"

Lady Geraldine smiled sadly: "I will go to mamma, and exonerate you from blame, as much as in me lies. Farewell, Florence. Believe me, I am not ungrateful— only weary." She rose, and glided gracefully out of

the room.

Florence followed her, with her eyes, admiringly : "She is the most beautiful creature I ever saw, and the most graceful. She possesses every charm

"Et la grace encore plus belle que la beauté !'"

CHAPTER XVII.

LADIES, like variegated tulips show,

'Tis to their changes half their charms we owe.

POPE.

FLORENCE was confined to her room for nearly a fortnight; she had taken cold; in short, she had the migraine. This attack of indisposition paved the way to a reconciliation with Lady Wentworth. Her ladyship's pride was soothed, when she saw our heroine's depression; her better feelings were roused, her anger slumbered. She graciously condescended to intimate that the past was forgotten; that, bitterly as she had resented Miss Dudley's spirited refusal to betray her daughter's confidence, she respected the motive which had prompted her silence, &c. Her ladyship begged, as a personal favour, that Florence would not cultivate the society of Mrs. Frank Seymour, while residing under her roof. Our heroine was grieved at this restriction, but she submitted; she consoled herself by writing an affectionate letter to Augusta, to which, however, she received no answer, for the very suffi-' cient reason that-it was never forwarded. The letter, unopened, fed the flame of a silver lamp, in Lady Wentworth's dressing-room.

Florence was not unhappy during her temporary seclusion; she had no lack of genial companionship; Lady Cecilia visited her, morning, noon, and night; Lady Geraldine, for some unexplained reason, came not alone, but accompanied her mother in a daily visit to the invalid. These flying visits depressed our

heroine's spirits below zero; the two ladies chilled the atmosphere, by the "winter of their discontent." Mademoiselle Despréaux was a far more welcome visitor; the sound of her quick step, hasty rap, and lively "Est-il permis?" as she opened the door, was very pleasant to our heroine. She was generally followed by her pupils, Charlotte and Evelyn; sometimes the little party would drink tea with Miss Dudley. On more than one occasion, Lady Cecilia, pleading slight indisposition, (which vanished with marvellous celerity in the sunny atmosphere of congenial society,) asked, and obtained leave of absence from the dinnertable. One evening, she joined the little circle, as they were sitting round the fire, when her presence was wholly unlooked-for.

Come, and sit by me, Cecilia," said Evelyn, making room for her sister, as she spoke, by squeezing herself into the least possible space.

Lady Cecilia readily accepted the invitation: "I have news to tell you, young ladies, which I leave to your sagacity to divine;" she looked round as she spoke. "Good, or bad?" demanded Florence.

"Good, and bad."

"You are enigmatical, Cecilia. You must give us a clue."

Lady Cecilia deliberated for a few minutes, then, turning to Mademoiselle Despréaux, she said, in a tone of assumed gaiety: "Je vous le donne en quatre, je vous le donne en dix, je vous le donne en cent."

Mademoiselle shrugged her shoulders; Cecilia rattled on: "C'est la chose la plus étonnante, la plus surprenante, la plus merveilleuse, la plus miraculeuse, la plus étourdissante, la plus inouie, la plus extraordinaire, la plus-" she paused, to take breath. "I have given you a clue; I say no more."

"You allude to a marriage, or you would not quote Madame de Sévigné's famous letter upon the union of la grande Mademoiselle

"Tiens! Milord Glenorme

"And Lady Elizabeth Beauclerc," interposed Florence. "No, Mademoiselle; no, Florence." Cecilia sighed, as her eye rapidly scanned the ingenuous countenance of her friend; there was not the slightest trace of emotion on her clear cheek. "Heigh-ho! I fear I have said too much, and raised your curiosity unjustifiably. Geraldine will be married sooner than was originally intended; that is all."

Florence started. Cecilia continued: "Lord Ullswater intends to go abroad, before the London season commences; therefore, he is anxious to hasten his marriage. Papa was averse to this arrangement, but mamma sided with Lord Ullswater; they carried the point."

66 What says Geraldine?"

"Geraldine says nothing; I cannot understand her." Mademoiselle Despréaux shrugged her shoulders: "It is a pity that miladi Geraldine, plus belle que fée, should be married contre cœur."

Lady Cecilia was silent; a tear glittered in her eye. The two little girls, enchanted with the prospect of a splendid marriage, laughed and chattered away incessantly, until checked by their governess. There was a dreary pause; Lady Cecilia, as usual, was the first to break it:

"The Duchess, and her daughter, left the castle, yesterday. I am glad of it; I dislike Lady Elizabeth,she is plain, proud, and passée."

"She is very old,” cried Charlotte, pertly. “I think she is forty.'

"

Lady Cecilia laughed, but Florence said, demurely, My dear Charlotte, you are mistaken. Her ladyship is not more than thirty

"Not more than thirty!!! C'est dommage!"

"I looked in the Peerage

"Upon my word, you are a dangerous person, Florence," cried Lady Cecilia, with a laugh. "How old is Glenorme?" she added, mischievously affecting ignorance.

"Twenty-two."

"C'est dommage!" said Mademoiselle, innocently. "A monstrous match!" muttered Cecilia, parenthetically.

"Still let the woman take

An elder than herself; so wears she to him,
So sways she level in her husband's heart."

She added, "Get well quickly, Florence. I am impatient to introduce you to a lady, who arrived to-day. She is unlike any one you have hitherto met at this house."

"Elle est charmante!" said Mademoiselle, with genuine French vivacity.

"I love Lady Mary!" cried the little girls in chorus. "Is she handsome? Is she accomplished?"

"She is not handsome; with the exception of her eyes, which are magnificent, she has not a good feature in her face. But truth sits enshrined on her clear forehead; truth dictates every word which falls from her lips. There is nothing factitious about Lady Mary, none of the varnish of high breeding, but a peculiar graciousness, which is inexpressibly attractive. You succumb to her 'sweet influences' without a struggle; like the magnet, she draws all true natures within the sphere of her attraction,-and her sphere is holy."

66

'

'My father has taught me, that truth is the basis of every virtue," replied Florence. "It is that glorious attribute of the Divine Mind, which, faintly developed in the walk of the upright man, is a magnificent fragment of the illustrious image in which we were made; enough to show that it once existed, and that now it is shivered and broken.'

999

Cecilia continued: "Lady Mary has intellect of no mean calibre; genius, for aught I know to the contrary. But it is the aristocracy of character which

N