y to Hauteville; and then Dacre
Abbey. An involuntary shudder seemed to damp all the ardour of his soul;
but when he turned and looked upon her beaming face, he could not feel
miserable.

He thought that he had never been at so agreeable a party in his life:
yet it was chiefly composed of the very beings whom he daily execrated
for their powers of boredom. And he himself was not very entertaining.
He was certainly more silent than loquacious, and found himself often
gazing with mute admiration on the little mouth, every word breathed
forth from which seemed inspiration. Yet he was happy. Oh! what
happiness is his who dotes upon a woman! Few could observe from his
conduct what was passing in his mind; yet the quivering of his softened
tones and the mild lustre of his mellowed gaze; his subdued and quiet
manner; his un-perceived yet infinite attentions; his memory of little
incidents that all but lovers would have forgotten; the total absence
of all compliment, and gallantry, and repartee; all these, to a fine
observer, might have been gentle indications of a strong passion; and
to her to whom they were addressed sufficiently intimated that no change
had taken place in his feelings since the warm hour in which he first
whispered his o'erpowering love.

The ladies retired, and the Duke of St. James fell into a reverie. A
political discourse of elaborate genius now arose. Lord Fitz-pompey
got parliamentary. Young Faulcon made his escape, having previously
whispered to another youth, not unheard by the Duke of St. James, that
his mother was about to depart, and he was convoy. His Grace, too,
had heard Lady Fitz-pompey say that she was going early to the opera.
Shortly afterwards parties evidently retired. But the debate still
raged. Lord Fitz-pompey had caught a stout Yorkshire squire, and was
delightedly astounding with official graces his stern opponent. A sudden
thought occurred to the Duke; he stole out of the room, and gained the
saloon.

He found it almost empty. With sincere pleasure he bid Lady Balmont, who
was on the point of departure, farewell, and promised to look in at her
box. He seated himself by Lady Greville Nugent, and dexterously made her
follow Lady Balmont's example. She withdrew with the conviction that
his Grace would not be a moment behind her. There were only old Mrs.
Hungerford and her rich daughter remaining. They were in such raptures
with Miss Dacre's singing that his Grace was quite in despai