uncle, would at once declare his own suit to her, and so procure his
immediate dismissal; while, aware of her powers of dissimulation and her
influence over her uncle, he feared that a single word from her would
suffice to remove all suspicion in Sir Miles, however ingeniously
implanted, and however truthfully grounded. But all the while, under his
apparent calm, his mind was busy and his passions burning.

"Pshaw! your old play,--the bishop again," said Sir Miles, laughing, as
he moved a knight to frustrate his adversary's supposed plan; and then,
turning back, he once more contemplated the growing familiarity between
Vernon and his niece. This time he could not contain his pleasure.
"Dalibard, my dear sir," he said, rubbing his hands, "look yonder: they
would make a handsome couple!"

"Who, sir?" said the Provencal, looking another way, with dogged
stupidity.

"Who? Damn it, man! Nay, pray forgive my ill manners, but I felt glad,
sir, and proud, sir. Who? Charley Vernon and Lucretia Clavering."

"Assuredly, yes. Do you think that there is a chance of so happy an
event?"

"Why, it depends only on Lucretia; I shall never force her." Here Sir
Miles stopped, for Gabriel, unperceived before, picked up his patron's
pocket-handkerchief.

Olivier Dalibard's gray eyes rested coldly on his son. "You are not
dancing to-night, my boy. Go; I like to see you amused."

The boy obeyed at once, as he always did, the paternal commands. He
found a partner, and joined a dance just begun; and in the midst of the
dance, Honore Gabriel Varney seemed a new being,--not Ardworth himself
so thoroughly entered into the enjoyment of the exercise, the lights,
the music. With brilliant eyes and dilated nostrils, he seemed
prematurely to feel all that is exciting and voluptuous in that
exhilaration which to childhood is usually so innocent. His glances
followed the fairest form; his clasp lingered in the softest hand; his
voice trembled as the warm breath of his partner came on his cheeks.

Meanwhile the conversation between the chess-players continued.

"Yes," said the baronet, "it depends only on Lucretia. And she seems
pleased with Vernon: who would not be?"

"Your penetration rarely deceives you, sir. I own I think with you. Does
Mr. Vernon know that you would permit the alliance?"

"Yes; but--" the baronet stopped short.

"You were saying, but--But what, Sir Miles?"

"Why, the dog affected diffidence; he had some fear lest he s