se as he
endeavoured to catch them. For a moment he was silent again; then he
bowed slightly to Miss Dacre and solemnly to the Duke, and then he
carried off his cousin.

'Poor Dacre!' said the Duke; 'he always had the worst manner in the
world. Not in the least changed.'

His Grace wandered into the tea-room. A knot of dandies were in deep
converse. He heard his own name and that of the Duke of Burlington; then
came 'Doncaster beauty.' 'Don't you know?' 'Oh! yes.' 'All quite mad,'
&c, &c, &c. As he passed he was invited in different ways to join the
coterie of his admirers, but he declined the honour, and passed them
with that icy hauteur which he could assume, and which, judiciously
used, contributed not a little to his popularity.

He could not conquer his depression; and, although it was scarcely
past midnight, he determined to disappear. Fortunately his carriage was
waiting. He was at a loss what to do with himself. He dreaded even to be
alone. The Signora was at a private concert, and she was the last
person whom, at this moment, he cared to see. His low spirits rapidly
increased. He got terribly nervous, and felt miserable. At last he drove
to White's.

The House had just broken up, and the political members had just
entered, and in clusters, some standing and some yawning, some
stretching their arms and some stretching their legs, presented symptoms
of an escape from boredom. Among others, round the fire, was a young man
dressed in a rough great coat all cords and sables, with his hat bent
aside, a shawl tied round his neck with boldness, and a huge oaken staff
clenched in his left hand. With the other he held the 'Courier,' and
reviewed with a critical eye the report of the speech which he had made
that afternoon. This was Lord Darrell.

We have always considered the talents of younger brothers as an
unanswerable argument in favour of a Providence. Lord Darrell was the
younger son of the Earl of Darleyford, and had been educated for a
diplomatist. A report some two years ago had been very current that
his elder brother, then Lord Darrell, was, against the consent of his
family, about to be favoured with the hand of Mrs. Dallington Vere.
Certain it is he was a devoted admirer of that lady. Of that lady,
however, a less favoured rival chose one day to say that which staggered
the romance of the impassioned youth. In a moment of rashness, impelled
by sacred feelings, it is reported, at least, for the whole is