hero. But it may with some
truth be remarked, that the number of hearts a Melcomb breaks rather
adds to his fame than diminishes his reputation. He rises upon ruin.

Melcomb, however, was at last positively thinking of marriage, and had
become the slave professed of Mildred Pendarrel. But he sped not in
his wooing as he conceived he had a right to expect. Now, it is an
annoying thing for one accustomed to carry the citadel by storm, to
be obliged to sit down and proceed according to the slow routine of a
siege; and still more disagreeable to be unable to make any impression
on the enemy's works. This was Melcomb's present position. He was
favoured by the mother, he was foiled by the daughter. It was a case
quite out of his experience. Mildred rode with him, danced with him,
flirted with him; but she never let him utter more than one serious
word. The instant he assumed an air of gravity, she prevented his
speech with a jest. His courtship was a perpetual laugh. It grew quite
fatiguing. Love was pleasant enough, except to make. Melcomb sometimes
thought of retiring from the field. He was not stimulated by
difficulty, and he was afraid of rejection. Melcomb refused! What a
disgrace! Yet he felt morally certain that this would be his fate, if
he now ventured to drive Mildred to Yes or No. At the same time, he
was unwilling to withdraw. The match would be decidedly advantageous
to him, and the lady correctly ornamental. So he bore with her frolic
humour as best he might. When accosted by Winesour in the pit, he had
sought refuge there from Mildred's sallies; and had been struck by the
strange beauty, whose earnest interest in the music seemed, indeed, to
distinguish a novice, and excited a languid curiosity in the used-up
coxcomb. He now returned to Mrs. Pendarrel's box, to obtain a nearer
view of the fair unknown, and not without some notion of provoking
Mildred's jealousy. But her mother anticipated him.

"Can you tell me," she asked, "who those ladies are, Mr. Melcomb? You
know everybody."

"My knowledge is at fault," he answered. "Shall I inquire?"

"I should like to know," Mrs. Pendarrel continued; "but they are
going, and so shall I."

Mrs. Winter's party, unconscious of the interest they excited, were
waiting, clustered together, for the announcement of their carriage,
when Mrs. Pendarrel's was declared to stop the way. At the sound of
the name, Randolph and Helen involuntarily turned, and found
themselves fac