stand it who are broken into it, and who have nothing better to do with themselves, but it won't do for you."

It was late in the afternoon of the following day when Lord William Melville's travelling-carriage stopped at the door of his noble house in Park-lane.

Not a little did the heart of Louisa flutter, as she found herself, at length, arrived before that magnificent mansion which she was henceforward to call her own. There might have been a time when a very innocent feeling of exultation and pleasure would have been excited by the first approach to the lordly abode, of which her personal charms had elevated her to be the mistress. But, wearied, exhausted, and almost fainting with fatigue and over-excitement, she was now incapable of any sensation but that of an intense desire for quiet and rest; and the loftiness of the resounding hall, the measured stealthy steps of the numerous footmen in splendid liveries, the hollow echo of doors as they opened and closed, gave her a sense of strangeness, coldness, and discomfort, little in consonance with her present feelings.

She looked and she longed for welcome; for something domestic and affectionate; and almost felt as if she were a stranger visiting some show house, while, hanging on Lord William's arm, she walked through a suite of magnificent apartments-the walls covered with pictures, and dazzling with gold, crimson, and mirrors which reflected her whole figure as she passed.

At length she reached a small sitting-room, or rather boudoir, which terminated the suite.

This elegant little chamber was shaded with delicate curtains of muslin and azure silk, with a carpet in softness and colour rivalling velvet, and was filled with couches, ottomans, and chairs of every description-rich china, beauti ful flowers, excellent pictures, &c. &c.-all that which gives now so much variety and splendour to the living-rooms of the great. It contained his lordship's stepmother, the Dowager Marchioness of Badington, and his two unmarried sisters, the ladies Gertrude and Fanny Melville.

Nature, whose gifts far exceed in value all which art or education can bestow, had been so lavish to Louisa, that the vainest man, and one the most susceptible to the horror of having made a mésalliance, could not have for one moment been uneasy as to the impression which his beautiful choice must make on all beholders.

But Lord William, as has been remarked, was far above any weakness of this sort. The lady whom he had considered worthy to be elevated to the exalted station of being

his wife, was, in his opinion, entitled, as such, to cope with any lady in the universe. And provided he was pleased himself, he cared not one farthing whether other people were pleased, or the contrary.

Possibly Louisa would have felt more happy, even if she could have detected at this moment some latent anxiety for her success: it would at least have been a mark of interest, and an evidence of the existence of some of those human weaknesses which might have proved a source of sympathy and confidence between them.

There was no such thing. He introduced her to his mother and sisters with the most perfect nonchalance, as if what was so inexpressibly awful to her, as a meeting for the first time with his relations, was a matter of the most perfect indifference to him. And, having remarked that she must be tired, supposed dinner was over, asked what she would have -and proposed tea, he said he would go to his club, and get what he could perhaps he might go down to the house; and, with " Fanny dear, do the honours for me, and introduce Lady William to her apartments," and a general "Good evening," he left the room; and left Louisa with such a sudden sensation of depression and loneliness pressing upon her heart, that she with difficulty concealed her tears.

Lady Fanny, remarkable for nothing but an air of distinguished fashion and a temper of the most reckless gayety; Lady Gertrude, whose handsome but haughty features bore an expression of considerable ability; the marchioness dowager, with a sort of busy, goody look, which made Louisa wonder by what strange accident she made one in so right honourable a circle, received her, the first with a gay familiarity; the second with a certain supercilious indifference; the last, vulgarly, but kindly, as Louisa thought; and as she was just in the humour to prefer kindness, however vulgar -to indifference, however elegant-the homeliness of this lady's reception was, in itself, some relief.

At least, under her directions, she was laid, for she really could hardly stand, upon a couch; and tea, for which she was dying, was ordered, and was brought.

Conversation was rather languid. At length Lady Fanny

said

"What a monstrous time William kept you at that place, with an unspellable and an unspeakable name, in Wales. La! how you must have been dying to come to town."

Louisa blushed-she would not for the universe have owned, at this moment, that she had been happy. Ah, how exquisitely happy there!

"I like boating and driving," was her answer, "and so we got on very pleasantly."

66

Ah, well! It might be pleasant! Fishing!-why you must have caught fish enough to supply Grove's for a twelve

month! Well, when it pleases the Fates to marry me, I will make an express stipulation that I am not to be carried to that dreadful attorney-clerks' paradise, Wales; and that the honey-moon shall, on no consideration whatever, last beyond a mortal three weeks! I only wonder you are alive!"

"The country is lovely," said Louisa, willing to say something, "and we had our books-and our walks through such wild enchanting scenes

She was warming with the recollection.

"How mightily poetical and sentimental," sneered Lady, Gertrude.

"What a strange whim of William's. But you may thank your stars it's over for ever and aye,-that's one comfort," said Lady Fanny, laughing.

Louisa was silent, and looked dashed.

The marchioness, who was really good-natured, though she was nothing else, saw she looked uncomfortable

66

My dear Lady William, I see you are tired; and, in your situation

"La, madam, for Heaven's sake don't begin with that already!"

"Shall we ring for your maid ?" cried both sisters at once. "If you please," said Louisa, faintly, for she felt weary, faint, and unhappy. To the marchioness alone she turned with something like comfort; her very officiousness was grateful; it looked something like friendship.

"If you are going to bed," said Lady Gertrude, who, like many other high-bred ladies, was any thing but polite, "I don't see why we need keep away from the opera. Do, Fanny, let us huddle there—I am dying to hear the Cinti in Medea."

"And I," said Lady Fanny, "most cheerfully consentconfessing after this, my first grand experience, that nothing is so detestable as an evening at home. Domestic pleasures are les plaisirs innocens in their worst form-how I abhor them-the whole generation of them-like that dear, clever, admirable creature who first dared to say so. But I forget: William is so romantic, that he will be quite horrified if I run away without performing ceremonies due-I must instal you before I go-lift you over the threshold, and light the hymeneal torch-eh, Gertrude? What was it the musty ancients we read of in the school-room used to do? Allons, donc, belle mariée-for that belle you are, is beyond dispute à la chambre dédiée au dieu de l'ennui."

And she took la belle mariée's arm; and again, lighted by a groom of the chambers, Louisa traversed the echoing apartments, till she was introduced into the one she was to call her own.

And here, as if love itself had presided over every ar

rangement, was assembled all that taste and luxury could bring together to render an apartment at once charming to the eye and comfortable in the fullest sense of the word.

A small antechamber, brilliantly lighted, opened into a dressing-room, fitted up with the softest hangings, of the most delicate colours. The walls were adorned with a few of the choicest pictures; one of which, placed upon a standing frame, opposite to a couch of admirable workmanship, seemed to challenge the attention to the consummate perfection of its art. The fire blazed cheerfully, while the heavy folds of the rich window-curtains effectually excluded every breath of the cold night air. And a pleasing light was diffused over the apartment by the large wax tapers, which the alabaster divinities, ranged in silent beauty round the apartment, might be thought to have descended from Olympus to hold.

This dressing-room opened into what might literally have been called the Cave of Sleep. Here the soft white curtains of silk and muslin, relieved only by their cords and cornices of gold, swept, in ample and luxurious folds, a floor strewed with living roses, for the dies and designs of the carpet emulated nature.

The bed and magnificent alcove-the unsullied whiteness of its abundant linen, pillows, and covermantle-were softly illuminated by the faint streams of light which fell from lamps burning behind amber screens, shedding a glowing mellow light through the apartment, the pale teints of which were relieved by a rich crimson cushion, a sort of Protestant prie-Dieu, placed near the alcove, and by a few low chairs and stools of the same colour and material.

How enchanting! as if the god of Love had indeed prepared this temple for its idol, or presided within its shrine to welcome the feeling stranger, who now, with beating heart, made the circuit of the apartment, examining with excessive delight the elaborate preparations made for her receptionreading in every fresh manifestation of luxury and magnificence some new proof, as she thought, of her lover's solicitude for her happiness.

"I hope you like your rooms," said Lady Fanny, as they returned to the fire.

Louisa was betrayed into an expression of her sensibility, which the instinct of good sense had already taught her was out of place in that society.

66

Oh, they are beautiful! how good of Lord William! how affectionate! how kind!"

"Good! affectionate! and kind! La! my dear Lady William, that is a very odd way of considering the thing. I really beg your pardon," laughing outright. "But it is such an unsophisticated way of admiring a room like this! Good! affectionate! and kind! I fancy there was any thing but

goodness in his head when he laid out those extravagant sums; because, forsooth, he must have every thing of his in the very first taste. Morcl and his people know that well enough. They have done the impossible to please him, but I'll engage he'll not be pleased. He's the most fastidious creature in the world-and the most indolent. He merely said, 'I must have these rooms fitted up by such a day. You know my taste-let me have nothing over-done—nothing out of keeping. Put in only what is suitable for the private apartments of the mistress of this house.' Now I think they have done it all charmingly-and that you are the happiest creature in the universe. Who knows that he may not call it all very romantic and fussy? I confess the alcove is a little in the sentimental, but I like it nevertheless -don't you?"

...

For so she ran on, while Louisa, her eyes fixed upon the fire, or wandering about the now disenchanted apartments, was taking her first lesson on the incapability of tables, sofas, hangings, and pictures, to convey happiness.

Her thoughts involuntarily flew back to the time of Mary's marriage-to the anxiety with which her affectionate, but humble lover, when he laid out all he could afford on her apartment, had studied her taste, comfort, and happiness, in every the minutest detail. Charles too! his image rose unbidden; it was but for a moment. She drove the thought away, as with a sigh she looked round upon the splendour which decked out what was but a desert to her. "How you sigh!" ran on Lady Fanny. "What a strange way of taking possession of what will, I assure you, make you the envy of half London. Here is your écrin, your trinket-box. Mamma has got the key; how provoking! Heigh-ho! I must be gone. There is your maid-really a very tolerable creature. French! oh, then you understand French! that's well; we can't get on without it nowadays. Good night, however, bellissima; I am for the opera, you for the alcove, I imagine; but you will soon be cured of such early doings. I'll call in the morning; I dare say you will like to go with us to church the first time. Good night! Ah, what a room!" and humming a French air, she quitted it. Very pretty-very dismal-very pale-very dull-is our new Lady William, in my humble opinion," said Lady Fanny, flourishing into the sitting-room.

66

66 A poor weak creature," dropped from Lady Gertrude. "Poor thing! she looks very poorly, and is sadly tired," said the marchioness. "I have a mind to go and see whether she has got anybody about her that can take care of her." "For Heaven's sake, madam, where can be the necessity' for your doing that? surely she has her maid, and attendance enough; and we shall be too late for the finale," said Lady Gertrude. Pray let us be off."