ith yesterday morning's paper--let us see what society is
about in London."

After a few moments of intense occupation with the journal, an
exclamation of pleasure and surprise escaped the sweet girl. On raising
my eyes I saw her gazing (as I fancied) fondly at myself.

"Read what you have that seems to give you so much pleasure."

She complied, reading with an eager and tremulous voice the following
paragraph:

"His majesty has been most graciously pleased to raise John Goldencalf
of Householder Hall, in the county of Dorset, and of Cheapside, Esquire,
to the dignity of a baronet of the united kingdoms of Great Britain and
Ireland."

"Sir John Goldencalf, I have the honor to drink to your health and
happiness!" cried the delighted girl, brightening like the dawn, and
wetting her pouting lip with liquor less ruby than itself. "Here,
Francis, fill a bumper and drink to the new baronet."

The gray-headed butler did as ordered with a very good grace, and then
hurried into the servants' hall to communicate the news.

"Here at least, Jack, is a new hold that society has on you, whatever
hold you may have on society."

I was pleased because she was pleased, and because it showed that Lord
Pledge had some sense of gratitude (although he afterward took occasion
to intimate that I owed the favor chiefly to HOPE), and I believe my
eyes never expressed more fondness.

"Lady Goldencalf would not have an awkward sound after all, dearest
Anna."

"As applied to one, Sir John, it might possibly do; but not as applied
to a hundred." Anna laughed, blushed, burst into tears once more, and
again fled.

What right have I to trifle with the feelings of this single-hearted
and excellent girl, said I to myself; it is evident that the subject
distresses her--she is unequal to its discussion, and it is unmanly
and improper in me to treat it in this manner. I must be true to
my character as a gentleman and a man--aye, and, under present
circumstances, as a baronet; and--I will never speak of it again as long
as I live.

The following day I took leave of Dr. Etherington and his daughter, with
the avowed intention of travelling for a year or two. The good
rector gave me much friendly advice, flattered me with expressions
of confidence in my discretion, and, squeezing me warmly by the hand,
begged me to recollect that I had always a home at the rectory. When
I had made my adieus to the father, I went, with a sorrowful
heart, in ques