d affectionate intercourse. Nor could
Edward Maitland fail to perceive that his own value in society was in an
inverse ratio to the chances of the Baronet's marrying, as a report of
an actual proposal on the part of the latter had more than once
occasioned a visible declension in the number and warmth of his
invitations. These considerations appeared, however, only to stimulate
the young man's activity in the search of a wife for his cousin. Had he
been employed by a marriage broker with a prospect of a liberal
commission, he could hardly have been more indefatigable.

"Well, Horace," exclaimed the younger Maitland, as the two sat loitering
over a late London breakfast one morning, "how did you like the lady to
whom I introduced you last evening?"

A smile lighted the eyes of Sir Horace as he replied, "Very much,
Ned--she is certainly intelligent, and has read and thought more than
most ladies of her age."

"She will make a capital manager, I am sure."

"And an agreeable companion," added Sir Horace.

"And a good wife--do you not think so, Horace?"

"She doubtless would be to one who could fancy her, Ned; for me her
style is a little too _prononce_."

"Well, really, Horace, I cannot imagine what you would have. One woman
is too frivolous--another wants refinement--one is too indolent and
exacting--and when you can make no other objection, why her style is a
little too _prononce_"--the last words were given with ludicrous
imitation of his cousin's tone. "If an angel were to descend from heaven
for you, I doubt if you would be suited."

"So do I," replied Horace, with a gay laugh at his cousin's evident
vexation.

And thus did he meet all Edward's well-intended efforts. The power of
choice had made him fastidious, and his life of luxury and freedom had
brought him no experiences of the need of another and gentler self as a
consoler. But that lesson was approaching.

A call from his lawyer for some papers necessary to complete an
arrangement in which he was much interested, had sent Sir Horace to
Maitland Park, in the midst of the London season, to explore the yet
unfathomed recesses of an old _escritoire_ of Sir Thomas. He had been
gone but two days when Edward received the following note from him,
written, as it seemed, both in haste and agitation:--

"Come to me immediately on the receipt of this, dear Edward. I have
found here a paper of the utmost importance to you as well as to me.
Come quickly--take