completed the bouquet, and Arundel Dacre was the butterfly, who, she was
glad to perceive, was seldom absent when her presence added beauty to
the beautiful. Indeed, she had good reason to feel confidence in her
attractions. Independently of her charms, which assuredly were great,
her fortune, which was even greater, possessed, she was well aware,
no slight allurement to one who ever trembled when he thought of his
dependence, and often glowed when he mused over his ambition. His
slight but increasing notice was duly estimated by one who was
perfectly acquainted with his peculiar temper, and daily perceived how
disregardful he was of all others, except her and his cousin. But a
cousin! She felt confidence in the theory of Sir Lucius Grafton.

And the young Duke; have we forgotten him? Sooth to say, he was seldom
with our heroine or heroines. He had called on Mr. Dacre, and had
greeted him with marked cordiality, and he had sometimes met him and his
daughter in society. But although invited, he had hitherto avoided being
their visitor; and the comparatively secluded life which he now led
prevented him from seeing them often at other houses. Mr. Dacre, who
was unaware of what had passed between him and his daughter, thought his
conduct inexplicable; but his former guardian remembered that it was not
the first time that his behaviour had been unusual, and it was never the
disposition of Mr. Dacre to promote explanations.

Our hero felt annoyed at his own weakness. It would have been infinitely
more worthy of so celebrated, so unrivalled a personage as the Duke of
St. James not to have given the woman who had rejected him this evidence
of her power. According to etiquette, he should have called there daily
and have dined there weekly, and yet never have given the former object
of his adoration the slightest idea that he cared a breath for her
presence. According to etiquette, he should never have addressed her but
in a vein of persiflage, and with a smile which indicated his perfect
heartease and her bad taste. According to etiquette, he should have
flirted with every woman in her company, rode with her in the Park,
walked with her in the Gardens, chatted with her at the opera, and drunk
wine with her at a water party; and finally, to prove how sincere he
was in his former estimation of her judgment, have consulted her on the
presents which he should make to some intimate friend of hers, whom he
announces as his future br