half hour very much to her own satisfaction, in being proposed to by, and rejecting, three officers in succession, and at last having a delightful flirtation in the cloak-room with the Russian Prince himself, who was in the act of presenting her with a splendid tippet of real sable, when the carriage once again reached the door of Thornwell Abbas. CHAPTER IV. Ωκύμορος δή μοι, τέκος, ἔσσεαι, οἱ ἀγορεύεις. "Short-lived, my child, shalt be, as thou hast said." Iliad, xviii. 95. EVENING has come, and the ball-goers are assembling. The gentlemen are in the hall. The ladies are rather late, and Sir John is beginning to fuss a little about his horses, and Mr. Sowerby, who goes very much against his will, and mainly in hope of meeting Sir Britannicus Camden, a brother antiquary, walks in some irritability up and down. Cousin Jacob has got his fingers in one of those Siamese links that were the fashion some time ago, which pull you tighter the more you struggle to get free, and seems to find that a sufficient and lively interest. At last the ladies come rustling and glistening, fluttering and tinkling down. Maria in white muslin with red bows symmetrically arranged; Amoret in a kind of indescribable fabric that looked like woven mother-of-pearl, something like what Keat's heroine may have seemed in the moonbeams on St. Agnes' Eve. "So sorry we're late, but we stopped to ask how Lady Pike was as we came down," said Amoret. "I'm glad to hear she's dozing." "Lady Grizel would not let her be disturbed," said Maria. "I feel quite ashamed of myself for running away from my domestic duties," said Mrs. Sowerby as she got into the carriage. "If it wasn't for Sir Britannicus and this gay young lady (patting Maria's arm), I should have stayed at home. Never mind (as a chorus of deprecation arose), we've only this next and one other visit to pay. I wanted Charles to get me off, but he would not hear of going without me, though he knows how I hate staying at grand places; and then we'll go back to town, and be as humdrum and steady as one of the policemen who walk up and down in front of the British Museum." The mention of the British Museum aroused Mr. Sowerby, and he began talking about the manuscripts there, and went on in a fitful way, supported by occasional interjections from the others, till they all, except Maria, who was very happy with her own fantasies, got too drowsy to do even that. He comforted himself with looking forward to Sir Britannicus Camden; and so the carriage went on and on. For our own part, we think the sober certainty of waking bliss is rarely so delightful as that half-conscious state one is in at night in a really comfortable carriage. One just knows something pleasant is going to break in upon the dream by and by, but one is in no hurry for it. Here is society without its obligations or its constraint, seclusion without melancholy, progress without effort. But thrice blest he who, in addition to this, gives or receives the little caress which he has lacked courage for in vulgar daylight; and thrice precious the little confidential words which may then be sometimes interchanged. When we think of Amoret with all her beauty and grace, and how much happiness of this kind she might have given if the right person had ever come in her way, we own it is trying to hear Mr. Sowerby go prosing on while Sir John is gently snoring (though with a very perceptible crescendo) in his corner. And yet Amoret had no regrets. If she had fallen in the way of a man of deep poetical nature he would have idolized her, but she would have given in return very little more than she gave Mr. Sowerby. She had |