the happiest, the most envied of her sex, had not that
indomitable spirit of coquetry urged her on, and lowered her to become a
very tool in the hands of the artful and designing Annie Grahame.

Caroline loved; had she doubted the existence of that passion, every
letter from Mary Greville would have confirmed it; for we will not say
it was jealousy she felt, it was more self-condemnation and regret,
heightened at times almost into wretchedness. That St. Eval should so
soon forget her, that he should love again ere six months had passed,
could not fail to be a subject of bitter mortification to one in whose
bosom pride still rested. She would not have thus tormented herself with
turning and twisting Mary's information into such ideas, had she not
felt assured that he had penetrated her weakness, and despised her.
Fickleness was no part of St. Eval's character, of that she was
convinced; but it was natural he should cease to love, when he had
ceased to esteem, and in the society and charms of Louisa Manvers
endeavour to forget his disappointment.

Through Emmeline's introductory letter, Lord St. Eval had become
sufficiently intimate with Mrs. Greville and Mary as to succeed in his
persuasions for them to leave their present residence, and occupy a
vacant villa on Lago Guardia, within a brief walk of Lord Delmont's,
feeling sure that an intimacy between Mrs. Manvers's family and that of
Mrs. Greville would be mutually pleasurable and beneficial; his friendly
wishes succeeded. Mrs. Greville found an able and sympathising
companion in the goodhearted, homely mother of the elegant and
accomplished Lord Delmont, and Mary's sadness was at once soothed and
cheered by the more animated Louisa, whose lot in life had never known
those murky clouds of sorrow and anxiety which had so often dimmed the
youth of Mary. The brother of Louisa had been all in all to her. She
felt as if life could not have another charm, as if not another joy was
wanting to render her lot perfect, until that other charm appeared, and
her ardent fancy quickly knew to its full extent the delights of female
companionship and sympathy. Their very dissimilitude of disposition
rendered dearer the ties of youthful friendship, and Emmeline sometimes
felt a pang of jealousy, as she read in the letters of her friend the
constant praises of Louisa Manvers, not that any diminution of early
affection breathed in them. Mary ever wrote so as to satisfy the most
exacting