only despair. As he stood alone before the fire, chewing this bitter
cud, she approached him.

'How good you were to come directly!' she said with a smile, which
melted his heart. 'I fear, however, you will not find us so merry as
before. But you can make anything amusing. Come, then, and sing to these
damsels. Do you know they are half afraid of you? and I cannot persuade
them that a terrible magician has not assumed, for the nonce, the air
and appearance of a young gentleman of distinction.'

He smiled, but could not speak. Repartee sadly deserts the lover; yet
smiles, under those circumstances, are eloquent; and the eye, after all,
speaks much more to the purpose than the tongue. Forgetting everything
except the person who addressed him, he offered her his hand, and
advanced to the group which surrounded the piano.

CHAPTER II.

_The Moth and the Flame_

THE next morning was passed by the Duke of St. James in giving Mr.
Dacre his report of the state of his affairs. His banker's accounts,
his architect's estimates, his solicitor's statements, were all brought
forward and discussed. A ride, generally with Miss Dacre and one of her
young friends, dinner, and a short evening, and eleven o'clock, sent
them all to repose. Thus glided on a fortnight. The mornings continued
to be passed in business. Affairs were more complicated than his Grace
had imagined, who had no idea of detail. He gave all the information
that he could, and made his friend master of his particular feelings.
For the rest, Mr. Dacre was soon involved in much correspondence; and
although the young Duke could no longer assist him, he recommended and
earnestly begged that he would remain at Dacre; for he could perceive,
better than his Grace, that our hero was labouring under a great deal of
excitement, and that his health was impaired. A regular course of life
was therefore as necessary for his constitution as it was desirable for
all other reasons.

Behold, then, our hero domesticated at Dacre; rising at nine, joining
a family breakfast, taking a quiet ride, or moderate stroll, sometimes
looking into a book, but he was no great reader; sometimes fortunate
enough in achieving a stray game at billiards, usually with a Miss
Montingford, and retiring to rest about the time that in London his most
active existence generally began. Was he dull? was he wearied? He was
never lighter-hearted or more contented in his life. Happy he could not
allow