s mother. "Does it matter much
what she thinks of me,--of a man engaged to another; and old enough to
be--"

"I wish to heaven you would not talk of your age, Harley; it is a
reflection upon mine; and I never saw you look so well nor so handsome."
With that she drew him on towards the young ladies; and, taking Helen's
arm, asked her, aside, "If she knew that Lord L'Estrange had engaged
rooms at the Clarendon; and if she understood why?" As while she said
this she moved on, Harley was left by Violante's side.

"You will be very dull here, I fear, my poor child," said he.

"Dull! But why will you call me child? Am I so very--very child-like?"

"Certainly, you are to me,--a mere infant. Have I not seen you one; have
I not held you in my arms?"

VIOLANTE.--"But that was a long time ago!"

HARLEY.--"True. But if years have not stood still for you, they have not
been stationary for me. There is the same difference between us now that
there was then. And, therefore, permit me still to call you child, and
as child to treat you!"

VIOLANTE.--"I will do no such thing. Do you know that I always thought I
was good-tempered till this morning."

HARLEY.--"And what undeceived you? Did you break your doll?"

VIOLANTE (with an indignant flash from her dark
eyes).--"There!--again!--you delight in provoking me!"

HARLEY.--"It was the doll, then. Don't cry; I will get you another."

Violante plucked her arm from him, and walked away towards the countess
in speechless scorn. Harley's brow contracted, in thought and in gloom.
He stood still for a moment or so, and then joined the ladies.

"I am trespassing sadly on your morning; but I wait for a visitor whom
I sent to before you were up. He is to be here at twelve. With your
permission, I will dine with you tomorrow, and you will invite him to
meet me."

"Certainly. And who is your friend? I guess--the young author?"

"Leonard Fairfield," cried Violante, who had conquered, or felt ashamed,
of her short-lived anger.

"Fairfield!" repeated Lady Lansmere. "I thought, Harley, you said the
name was Oran."

"He has assumed the latter name. He is the son of Mark Fairfield, who
married an Avenel. Did you recognize no family likeness?--none in those
eyes, Mother?" said Harley, sinking his voice into a whisper.

"No;" answered the countess, falteringly.

Harley, observing that Violante was now speaking to Helen about Leonard,
and that neither was listening to him, resumed in the