She en

that very moment a party of ladies came in. I stepped aside. tered among the rest. Our eyes met. Her first vague, uncertain, dazzled look fell upon me. Whether it was the lingering gaze of conscious beauty, or the fixed stare of wonderment, she was long in withdrawing it from me. I bowed slightly-why, I could not tell-but the spell was already upon me. They moved slowly amid the crowd. I followed, led by a sort of fascination. Presently they seated themselves at the furthest end of the ball-room, and here I began to observe them. A middleaged lady, whose anxious looks, tempered by charming dignity, revealed the tremulous feelings of a tender mother, sat by her side, and from time to time exchanged a remark, or directed her daughter's attention to the gay scene before them. Thin, pale, and nervous, she appeared to me one of those devoted mothers who, after long years of absence from the bustling world, from whence care and sorrow have prematurely driven them away, find suddenly in their affections a supernatural strength and courage for a season to tutor a daughter in the arduous apprenticeship of fashion; and then, when haply the dearest wishes have been attained, retire again into solitude, till the next child calls for the repetition of the same labour of love. Apparently they knew but very few people in the room. Two or three ladies approached them, and conversed for a few moments. Two or three gentlemen proffered a quadrille engagement to the young lady. An interesting youth who, from his familiarity with them, seemed to be an intimate friend or a cousin-country cousin I should have said-led her to a waltz, but they could not go on, and the lady returned to her seat with evident disappointment. That was all. Here also ended my observation. Contemplation came anon-for I cannot find another word for the intense interest with which I looked upon her. It expanded gradually into the indistinct haziness of a prolonged reverie. They departed, and left me still dreaming till I lost the thread of my fancies-forgot the subject and the motive of the emotion-snapped the connecting chain with the world below, and sailed up into the misty regions above."

"And is this all?" asked my now attentive friend. "Come, I must make you describe her looks-the appearance-the dress. Give me the 'local habitation,' draw her portrait, and I may give you the 'name.""

"Draw her portrait!" exclaimed I. "Who could ?-not I, certainly." And yet I could not let it alone. I ransacked my poetical stores for similes-but inspired delineations of beauty by the most gifted sons of Apollo, the faint shadows of which led me to the substance of her image, lost all their relevancy and likeness as soon as that image became fixed in my mind. I appealed to painting, to sculpture with no better success -from the sublimest conceptions of Fiesole and Francia down to La Fornarina and La Cenci-from the Venus de Medici down to Canova's Magdalen. None could yield a feature, a tint, a reminiscence, by which I might impart to others that which could only be divined by intuition. Where all is beauty and harmony, description becomes common-place.

In generalibus dolus latet.

"I might extol her pellucid complexion, her classic shape, her dark flowing hair, without affording you any cue at all, for thousands of the fair daughters of this land would, in this respect, prefer rival claims. If Oct.-VOL. LXXII. NO. CCLXXXVI.

S

words made bold to delineate her exqusite curl of the upper lip, which seems incessantly pouting at its rosy, dewy, twin-sister, because it will not close, and allows the shining row of pearly teeth to come for an equal share of admiration-you would probably remind me that this peculiar feature is the unapproachable distinction of the fair lady of the land. Verily, to that face, as I see it now before me, I could assign no particular class or clime. Mild, transparent, heavenly pure, it denotes the English origin, but its piquant expressiveness and archness speak of sunnier climes. If an exquisitely chiselled mouth betokens calmness and refinement, those black, full, deep eyes betray passions fierce and indomitable. Ah! those eyes-were they once to fall upon you, the charm would remain for ever. The wild Gazelle's, the Basilisk's, are nothing to them-and yet they were never designed to be seen in their full radiance-for envious nature having marked their size with eyebrows of singular delicacy, but of surprising curve and boldness, has only allowed them to beam from beneath

The soft languor of the drooping lid

lids so languid, and fringed with lashes so heavy, that whenever she lifts them up it amounts almost to a painful effort. Hence that sort of haziness and dreaminess about them, which would tantalise even the most listless disposition.”

"Enough, enough!" cried out my friend, seizing me by the arm. "Eureka! I know the lady, for such another pair of eyes is not to be seen in any latitude, in any class of women. Your belle can be no other than Miss Hanmer. She was born in India, for her father was a colonel in the service of the East India Company. He died two or three years ago at Calcutta. The mother returned to England with her only child, and the first news which met her on landing here was that, during the time of her passage home, the house where she had placed all her fortune had failed, and left her penniless. As, however, she is connected with some of our highest families, she has contrived to scrape together a little competence which enables her to meet the expenditure, inseparable from the circle in which she moves. Poor delicate creature as she is, she strains every nerve, and allows herself to die by inches, for the sake of her dear daughter. All the hopes and the prospects of the latter depend upon an uncle, one of the richest, if not the richest of the India merchants. Old, and a bachelor, he is rather close-fisted; he contents himself occasionally with presenting his niece with a piano from Broadwood, or a set of jewels; but were they to-morrow on the verge of ruin he would not sell out of the funds a single sovereign to save them, although I have not the slightest doubt he means to bequeath to her every farthing of his princely fortune. But as we have been so slow in tracing her out, tinued my friend, "we must now lose no time in making her acquaintance. I shall see them to-night at Lady D.'s ball, and will ask the mother's permission to introduce you to-morrow at three. So, my good fellow, until then, adieu," said he, warmly pressing my hand, and darted away from

the room.

CHAP. IV.

THE ACQUAINTANCE.

con

THE next morning, the auspicious three found us at Mrs. Hanmer's

door, in one of the neat squares recently built on the northern side of Hyde Park. I felt a strange emotion as we were shown into the drawingroom. A single glance round that room convinced me of the excellent taste of the hostess, whilst feathery fans, little miniature pagodas on the chimney-piece, and a large parti-coloured balloon-lamp, hanging from the ceiling, evinced her lingering attachment to the scenes of her happier days. I approached the half-opened piano, and found "Die Kosenden" on the desk-this was then a favourite waltz, and unfailing memory told me it was that unlucky one, which had witnessed at the ball Miss Hanmer's vain attempt to transform country cousins into good waltzers. I fancied I heard the stirring sounds of that waltz still floating on the vibrating strings. A cambric handkerchief left on the desk, confirmed my rather uncharitable surmises.

Presently Mrs. Hanmer entered alone. She addressed me with the ease of an old friend-so true it is, that the watchful eye of a mother never fails to perceive and reward the admiration evinced for her child. I spoke but very little, for my imagination was all engrossed in tracing the dazzling beauty of the daughter in the mother's faded but still charming countenance. On taking leave, Mrs. Hanmer forestalled all my warmest wishes, by telling me that she would be happy to see me often at her house, that she knew several of my kindred, and that she hoped I should come next day to an early tea.

"Very early," added she, "for we are going again to a party, and I cannot defer the pleasure of seeing you here till after the long list of our ball engagements shall have been run out."

To appear over-anxious or too sanguine in such cases is dangerous as well as impertinent. Night began already to darken the eastern sky before I went next day to this "early" appointment. It struck nine as I sat myself in an arm-chair in the same drawing-room. It was a sultry evening of June. The glass-doors were opened on a neatly-trimmed garden. The fragrance of flowers, the distant rattle of carriages, the solemnity of the twilight hour, all concurred to throw me into a pensive mood. For the first time since the beginning of my adventure, I bethought myself to summon reflection to my aid. Wherefore had I come there? was not this fever of overstrained excitement, the foreboding sign that it must end in disappointment? With this last question I got up and unconsciously moved towards the door-when she, on whom all my thoughts were centred, entered trippingly through the glass-door, ran straight towards me, extended her hand, fixed her eyes on me, and then started back, courtesied, and slowly retired through the opposite door.

It was like an apparition-the darkness of the room-the fleeting step of the flying angel-the arm extended and then held back as if in the delivery of some mysterious message, all made me think that it was only a vision. But the glow of her eyes, the flowing black hair, the elegant white muslin dress, the buoyant, almost childlike, unconcern, with which she bounced in, and swung the large-brimmed straw bonnet dangling on her bare arm, recalled me again to reality, and I chid my imagination for its straining to conjure up visions and discover omens, where after all nothing but a light-hearted gaiety of a perhaps still thoughtless child, followed by the sullen consciousness of having mistaken a stranger for an acquaintance was to be recognised.

This reflection allowed me to appear cool and collected when Mrs. Hanmer, leading her daughter by the hand, entered the room.

"My daughter," said she, after having warmly shaken hands with me. I bowed, and blessed the darkness which concealed the awkwardness of my position, and repressed any untoward look which might have betrayed the excess of my delight.

Lights were brought in, and with them the real though silent introduction the recognition, I should have said-was mutually exchanged. Conversation ran of course on balls, music, the opera. I found that Miss Hanmer lacked neither taste nor judgment, and seemed to be very partial to music.

"But," said the mother, "much as my daughter admires the great masters, I think that if she had to dispose of the sceptre of music-nay, perhaps of the world-she would tender it to Strauss."

"We are then fellow-subjects, for I have also sworn allegiance to that sovereign."

"Do you really like waltzing?" smilingly inquired Miss Hanmer. "To dance and to see it danced-to play, and to hear others playto live, and as a German enthusiast said, to die to the tune of a waltz.' "You have betrayed yourself," said Mrs. Hanmer, "and you must pay the penalty by giving us a waltz."

"I shall be most happy," answered I; "but our monarch's rules are most stringent with respect to etiquette, and he would spurn the homage if I forgot the precedence due to ladies. I must ask Miss Hanmer to lead the way.'

Miss Hanmer made a sign of charming reluctance.

66

'Tooney" (I learned afterwards that in India tooney meant, my darling), said the mother, "but awhile ago you took the count for your kind old uncle, and now it will be your penalty to obey his request thus proffered by proxy. I am sure if he were here, he would ratify it."

Miss Hanmer went to the piano, whether by chance or purpose the book opened on "Die Kosenden." At first she appeared nervous and confused, but as she went on, she recovered gradually self-possession, and gave the concluding parts of the waltz with that warmth and brilliancy, which none but its consummate votaries can evince.

This made it no easy task for me to pass the ordeal. I chose "Hoffnang's Strahlen ;" and as the "circling march of sound" expanded, I saw on the fair listener's face those "beauty's deeply pictured smiles," which vividly spoke of "congenial hope."

She performed another waltz, and so did I. An hour elapsed in this alternating emulation. I was at my fourth or fifth, when, probably on a sign from the mother, Miss Hanmer disappeared. I could not help feeling annoyed, but even before I concluded the performance, she returned and stood again at my elbow. I perceived that in the meantime she had dressed for the ball. I got up to retire, but she so charmingly prayed for "another," that it was impossible to resist. Of a truth, with all the pleasing anticipations of the ball, and despite all the guarded conventionalities of so recent an acquaintance, she would evidently have remained as long by the side of the piano, as I continued to disregard (for the benefit of my budding hopes) the rules of good taste and propriety, by keeping them beyond their time. shaking off the spell, I got up hurriedly and took my leave, not without having first given the promise of an early call.

But

"WELL! to me such conduct is positively shocking-I might add, disgusting-only I abominate strong language," said the antiquated Miss Longiver.

"What do you mean, my lady ?" inquired her companion, using a title which she had no right to use; but which she did use now and then as if by mistake, because she knew it pleased her employer.

"Wilkinson, dear, how often have I—but never mind—I might have been a lady had I chosen. Just observe that young woman over the way, she has spoken to—or rather been spoken to by-no less than six men in six minutes. The street-keeper ought to be severely reprimanded for allowing such improprieties in public-I might say indecencies, only, as I said before, I abominate strong language."

"She is very pretty," said Wilkinson, and she sighed as she said so, for she, herself, was very plain in form and feature.

Pretty, indeed! and does that justify such very improper proceedings? Who is she ?" asked Miss Longiver, sharply.

I really do not know, madam; we have been but two days in Tumberville, and I can hardly be expected to know—”

"You can inquire, I presume. You really, Wilkinson, are what-if I did not abominate vulgarities-I should call a very slow coach."

"Not a male coach, madam, at any rate," replied Wilkinson, hoping to extort a smile from her employer.

"Miss Wilkinson," said the lady, frowning ominously. "If ever you venture again to perpetrate a worn-out witticism in my presence, I advertise at once for another companion-so look out."

"Of the window, or for another situation ?" asked Wilkinson, in humble tones.

"Impertinent!" said Miss Longiver; "but I pardon it-as the result of my having used a vulgarity, a thing I so deeply abominate. But there!-do look out of the window-there! I declare if that tall young woman in the gipsy-hat is not speaking and laughing with the seventh man. I must leave these lodgings if the library over the way is to be the scene of such gross-I will know who she is at any rate-sonnez, sonnez, my love."

Wilkinson rushed to the bell, and in her eagerness to oblige her employer, gave the riband so hard a jerk, that it came down with a run, as the sailors say. Miss Longiver took advantage of the short period which elapsed between the tug and the appearance of the maid, to assure Miss Wilkinson, that whatever expenses had been incurred by her unnecessary violence, she, Miss Longiver, was not going to liquidate them out of her purse. Wilkinson, however, jumped upon a chair, and with a turn of the wire, restored the bell-pull to its former appearance.