udge of ladies' minds as of ladies' persons;
and not a few were heard to swear aloud, that the Fitz-Henries were as
far above the rest of their sex in wit, and graceful accomplishment,
as in beauty of form and face, and elegance of motion.

See! they are dancing now some gay, newly invented, Spanish dance,
each whirling through the voluptuous mazes of the courtly measure with
her own characteristic air and manner, each evidently pleased with her
partner, each evidently charming him in turn; and the two together
enchaining all eyes, and interesting all spectators, so that a gentle
hum of approbation is heard running through the crowd, as they pause,
blushing and panting from the exertion and excitement of the dance.

"Fore Gad! she is exquisite, George! I have seen nothing like her in
my time," lisped a superb coxcomb, attired in a splendid civilian's
suit of Pompadour and silver, to a young cornet of the Life Guard who
stood beside him.

"Which _she_, my lord?" inquired the standard-bearer, in reply.
"Methinks they both deserve your encomiums; but I would fain know
which of the two your lordship means, for fame speaks you a dangerous
rival against whom to enter the lists."

"What, George!" cried the other, gayly, "are you about to have a throw
for the heiress? Pshaw! it wont do, man--never think of it! Why,
though you are an earl's second son, and date your creation from the
days of Hump-backed Dickon, old Allan would vote you a _novus homo_,
as we used to say at Christ Church. Pshaw! George, go hang yourself!
No one has a chance of winning that fair loveliness, much less of
wearing her, unless he can quarter Sir Japhet's bearings on his coat
armorial."

"It _is_ the heiress, then, my lord," answered George Delawarr,
merrily. "I thought as much from the first. Well, I'll relieve your
lordship, as you have relieved me, from all fear of rivalry. I am
devoted to the dark beauty. Egad! there's life, there's fire for you!
Why, I should have thought the flash of that eye-glance would have
reduced Jack Greville to cinders in a moment, yet there he stands, as
calm and impassive a puppy as ever dangled a plumed hat, or played
with a sword-knot. Your fair beauty's cold, my lord. Give me that
Italian complexion, and that coal-black hair! Gad zooks! I honor the
girl's spirit for not disguising it with starch and pomatum. There's
more passion in her little finger, than in the whole soul of the
other."

"You're out there, Geo