lled himself a glass, and sipped it. Most utterly unconscious
did his lordship look. This, then, was the meaning of the previous
comedy.

"Anything which can give my aunt pleasure, I am sure, will delight me,"
said Maria, trying to look as happy as possible.

"You must come and stay with me, my dear, and I promise to be good and
good-humoured. My dear lord, you will spare your sister to me?"

"Lady Maria Esmond is quite of age to judge for herself about such a
matter," said his lordship, with a bow. "If any of us can be of use
to you, madam, you sure ought to command us." Which sentence, being
interpreted, no doubt meant, "Plague take the old woman! She is taking
Maria away in order to separate her from this young Virginian."

"Oh, Tunbridge will be delightful!" sighed Lady Maria.

"Mr. Sampson will go and see Goody Jones for you," my lord continued.

Harry drew pictures with his finger on the table. What delights had
he not been speculating on? What walks, what rides, what interminable
conversations, what delicious shrubberies and sweet sequestered
summer-houses, what poring over music-books, what moonlight, what
billing and cooing, had he not imagined! Yes, the day was coming. They
were all departing--my Lady Castlewood to her friends, Madame
Bernstein to her waters--and he was to be left alone with his divine
charmer--alone with her and unutterable rapture! The thought of the
pleasure was maddening. That these people were all going away. That he
was to be left to enjoy that heaven--to sit at the feet of that angel
and kiss the hem of that white robe. O Gods! 'twas too great bliss to
be real! "I knew it couldn't be," thought poor Harry. "I knew something
would happen to take her from me."

"But you will ride with us to Tunbridge, nephew Warrington, and keep us
from the highwaymen?" said Madame de Bernstein.

Harry Warrington hoped the company did not see how red he grew. He tried
to keep his voice calm and without tremor. Yes, he would ride with their
ladyships, and he was sure they need fear no danger. Danger! Harry
felt he would rather like danger than not. He would slay ten thousand
highwaymen if they approached his mistress's coach. At least, he would
ride by that coach, and now and again see her eyes at the window. He
might not speak to her, but he should be near her. He should press the
blessed hand at the inn at night, and feel it reposing on his as he led
her to the carriage at morning. They would be t