CHAPTER XVII. Oh, so vulgar!-such a set of horrors ! "But passing rich."-GOLDSMITH. It was just the end of July, and one of those tremendously hot weeks, which, once in a summer, remind our island that heat is as good for grumbling as cold. It passed as weeks do when all is hurry, confusion, and packing—when there are a thousand things to do, and another thousand left undone. It is amazing how long such a week seems-events lengthen the time they number: it is the daily and quiet round of usual occupation that passes away so quickly; it is the ordinary week which exclaims, "Good gracious! it is Saturday again." The human heart is something like a watch; and Emily's advanced not a little in its usual pace, when, one morning, Lady Mandeville, on her return from a drive, said, "I have been accepting an invitation, in spite of all our good resolutions against that unnecessary waste of time-visiting. I often think, one makes resolutions to have the pleasure of breaking them ; but this is really an urgent case: if we do not see the new Countess of Etheringhame this season, it admits, I think, of a question whether we shall next. I met her this morning, and she asked us in the name of charity. London is so empty, she is fearful of taking cold." "I have heard that Lord Etheringhame was a man of the most recluse habits-what magic has turned him into the most dissipated?" "The power of grace, the magic of a name.' Lord Ethe His beautiful wife knows no rule but her own will, and no will but her own. ringhame is the very man to be governed his temper is discontented-he calls it sensitive; his habits self-indulged he calls them refined; he has literary tastes-he calls them talents; he is indolent to an excess-he calls it delicacy of feeling, which unfits him for the world. He married with some romantic notion of domestic bliss, congenial tastes, moonlight walks, &c. Lady Etheringhame's reading of connubial felicity was different: first, the old Castle was abandoned for Park Lane-the moonlight walk for a midnight ball-and for congenial tastes, universal admiration. All this was very disagreeable to allow, but still more disagreeable to resist; and Lord Etheringhame is a cipher in his own house: the cipher gives value to the other figures, still it is a cipher after all." - Well, Lord Etheringhame has all the milk of human kindness to say nothing of the water," remarked Lord Mandeville; " but I do wish he was just master of some honeysuckle villa, and his brother in his place; though Lorraine's career will not be the less distinguished because he has to make it for himself." Evening came, and with it the assemblage of Lady Etheringhame's few friends: few as there were, there were quite enow to draw from "I could not every one the exclamation of, have believed there were so many people in town." The Countess came forward to meet them, looking more beautiful than ever. But it was not now that Emily envied her beauty; no philosopher like a girl in love, to feel, for the time being, utter indifference to all possible pomp and garniture. Emily looked round the rooms, though, with sufficient anxiety: often did a sudden flush on the cheek involuntarily avow the deception of the eye; and more than once did the ear become quick, as it does when hope lends its charm to the listener: but it was in vain-and her spirits took a tone of despondency she would fain have entirely ascribed to fatigue; -when Adelaide approached. Now, the fair Countess had a little feminine pique to vent, and a woman's unkindly feelings are very unkind indeed; and that spirit of universal appropriation which belongs to insatiable vanity broke out in the following speech, aimed at Miss Arundel, though addressed to Lady Mandeville. "I dare say you expected to meet an old favourite of yours-by the by, he is almost always here-Lorraine; but, though I used the strong persuasion of your ladyship and his old friend Miss Arundel being expected, some rural whim seized him, and go he would for a few days from town." The Countess cast one look, and, in the deeper paleness of Emily's cheek, saw that her shaft had entered, and passed smilingly on. Another moment, and she was receiving as much pleasure as could be put into words from the flatteries unsparingly offered by the young Count Alfred de Merivale. Once Emily was again startled into the belief of Lorraine's presence; a second and nearer glance shewed her mistake-it was his brother, whose likeness was as strong in feature as it was opposite in expression. The government of the mind is absolute, but nothing in its whole dominion does it modify as it does the face. They left early, yet the evening had seemed interminable; and considering that Emily was niched between an inlaid table, on which stood a shepherd in a yellow jacket offering a ChinaChinese I mean-rose to a shepherdess in green and pink—and a tea-pot, all exquisite Dresden specimens and an old lady, of whose shawl and shoulders Emily had the full benefit, while her neighbour discussed with an elderly gentleman the vices and follies of the rising generation; and considering, also, that such conversation was more edifying than amusing, it is not so very wonderful that Emily found the evening somewhat dull. On their return home, however, she was greatly consoled by Lady Mandeville's reading aloud a billet from Edward Lorraine, regretting that unexpected business, which he had to transact for his brother, obliged him to go down to Etheringhame Castle; and expressing his hope and expectation that in a |