ndsome, being very thin, and rather sad-looking. She is not very
witty, being only up to the conversation, whatever it may be; and yet,
if she were in black serge, I think one could not help seeing that she
was a Princess, and Serene Highness; and if she were a hundred years
old, she could not be but beautiful. I saw her performing her devotions
in Antwerp Cathedral, and forgot to look at anything else there;--so
calm and pure, such a sainted figure hers seemed.

When this great lady did the present writer the honor to shake his hand
(I had the honor to teach writing and the rudiments of Latin to the
young and intelligent Lord Viscount Pimlico), there seemed to be a
commotion in the Kicklebury party--heads were nodded together, and
turned towards Lady Knightsbridge: in whose honor, when Lady Kicklebury
had sufficiently reconnoitred her with her eye-glass, the baronet's lady
rose and swept a reverential curtsy, backing until she fell up against
the cushions at the stern of the boat. Lady Knightsbridge did not see
this salute, for she did not acknowledge it, but walked away slimly (she
seems to glide in and out of the room), and disappeared up the stair to
the deck.

Lankin and I took our places, the horse-dealer making room for us; and
I could not help looking, with a little air of triumph, over to the
Kicklebury faction, as much as to say, "You fine folks, with your large
footman and supercilious airs, see what WE can do."

As I looked--smiling, and nodding, and laughing at me, in a knowing,
pretty way, and then leaning to mamma as if in explanation, what face
should I see but that of the young lady at Mrs. Perkins's, with whom
I had had that pleasant conversation which had been interrupted by the
demand of Captain Hicks for a dance? So, then, that was Miss Kicklebury,
about whom Miss Perkins, my young friend, has so often spoken to me: the
young ladies were in conversation when I had the happiness of joining
them; and Miss P. went away presently, to look to her guests--that is
Miss Fanny Kicklebury.

A sudden pang shot athwart my bosom--Lankin might have perceived it, but
the honest Serjeant was so awe-stricken by his late interview with the
Countess of Knightsbridge, that his mind was unfit to grapple with
other subjects--a pang of feeling (which I concealed under the grin and
graceful bow wherewith Miss Fanny's salutations were acknowledged) tore
my heart-strings--as I thought of--I need not say--of HICKS.

He h