me to her church."

Lady Mabel could perceive that her father treated his companion with
unusual consideration, and L'Isle was induced to prolong his visit for
an hour and more. He was certainly well-bred and well-informed, and
seemed disposed to make himself agreeable; yet there was something in
his manner that puzzled and annoyed her. It was not the little reserve
which he exhibited toward her father, yet more than to herself. It was
not that he was out of spirits; for he was quite animated at times. It
seemed to be a feeling of--Lady Mabel's self-satisfaction did not
permit her immediately to perceive what this feeling was.

"So," said she to herself, when L'Isle had taken his leave, her father
accompanying him out of the room, "So this is the veritable
Lieutenant-Colonel L'Isle! After hearing of him daily for three weeks,
I have now seen him in real life, or rather, half alive; for the
cadaverous gentleman seems to have had at least half his life let out
of him in that last affair. This is the glass in which the young
lieutenants and ensigns of the brigade dress themselves. As Colonel
Bradshawe says, there is no need to distribute copies of the articles
of war among them. They may all be condensed into one injunction: 'Be
just like Lieutenant-Colonel L'Isle, and you will rise like him; and
deserve to rise--if you have as strong family interest to back you.'
But he seems to have suffered much from his wounds, poor fellow, and
in spite of family interest, to have been very near leaving his
regiment vacant for another aspirant."

"By-the-bye," said Lady Mabel, as a new light flashed upon her, "he
seemed to pity me all the time he was talking to me. That was it! A
condescending commiseration in every look, and in every word he
uttered. I am very much indebted to him for his sympathy." Here she
assumed a haughty air. "But we certainly do not know ourselves; for I
cannot, for the life of me, discover what he sees so pitiable about
me. He is, doubtless, a very over-weening fellow--I do not like him at
all!" And, with a haughty wave of the hand, she dismissed an imaginary
personage from her presence, and moved off with dignity to her own
room. Now, be it remembered, that Lady Mabel, walking in "maiden
meditation, fancy free," among the officers of the brigade, had never,
until this moment, thought it worth while to ask herself, as to any of
them, whether she liked him or not.

While she was thus meditating and soliloqu