"Surprized indeed!" but still the word glad did not escape him.- He is honest, however, thought Mrs. Ainslie; but as she saw her young friend's excessive emotion, and also saw if she had an opportunity she would give way to the mortification and apprehension which she could not but feel, and treat her unworthy admirer with a scene which might gratify his vanity without touching his heart, she resolved not to quit the room; therefore she seated herself at her table, and began to work. Mandeville's countenance she thought cleared up when she did so; but not Ellen's, who unwilling to think that she and Mandeville were not still lovers, wondered excessively that Mrs. Ainslie did not leave them alone. "And when did "And how did you come ?" "The mail! how could Sir George suffer it?" "Oh! but I wished it." "What a vulgar taste! The mail! How could you wish it, Ellen ?” "Oh! because, because" - here poor Ellen recollected that she wished it because she was anxious to lose no time, as her stay was to be short; therefore the contrast of her expectations then and now overcame her, and she turned aside to weep. Charles was more nettled than affected by this sensibility, and was about to say a kind word in a peevish tone; when Mrs. Ainslie interfered, and coldly said, almost mimicking in spite of herself the manner in which he pronounced the mail,'—" I see no vulgarity, but much good sense, in my young friend's choosing to come up by the mail, Mr. Mandeville." "Indeed, Madam?" "Yes, posting is very expensive." "But could not Sir George have afforded to treat his niece with a post-chaise ?" "No; he has a large family, and cannot afford to spend ten or twelve pounds unnecessarily." "Why could she not pay for herself then ?" "Because Ellen is not of age, and her allowance is small, therefore she wisely resolved to come by the odious vulgar mail, attended by her aunt's maid and a gentleman of her acquaintance." "A gentleman! what gentleman," said he, changing colour. "Oh! you need not be jealous," replied Mrs. Ainslie, maliciously, and Mandeville blushed still deeper; "it was not a certain gentleman, but a Mr., Mr. "Betson," said Ellen, who had now recovered herself, and was cheered by Charles's blush and manner, when he heard that a gentleman accompanied her. What, old Betson the attorney! what a beau! really Sir George is a strange guardian for a young lady of your fortune, Miss Mortimer, and a Baronet's neice." "On the contrary," said Mrs. Ainslie, he is the wisest guardian possible; the income of 10,0907. will not go far if its possessor must always travel post or not at all; and habits of economy are necessary even for persons of 10,000l. per ann. Sir George has known the misery of a narrow income; and, though a Baronet, was, you know, a pennyless subaltern, and then a Captain in the army for many years, dragging a wife and eight children about with him from one station to another, as he could, on coaches or in coaches; and, when comparative wealth came, it was too late for him to assume the fantastical airs, and fine gentlemen disgusts and shrinkings of those who have not, like him, been made superior to the unnecessary indulgences of life by a painful acquaintance with its realities. His girls were Baronet's daughters then, yet, ifit was necessary, they went with their nurse on a baggage-waggon; and now, if necessary, Sir George and Lady Mortimer would let them go in a mail, aye, and with Mr. Betson too." Mandeville was surprized to hear such sentiments from a woman who was, he knew, reckoned rather proud, not easy of access, and was herself allied to nobility; and as he associated the idea of vulgarity with that of attention to economy, he would have thought Mrs. Ainslie vulgar if he could so have thought of a woman of her station in society; however, he judged it best to say no more concerning mail travelling, but bowing, as if convinced, he next asked Ellen how long she meant to stay? "Only a month." "Dear me; how unfortunate! for I have so many engagements for this month!" "But when a lady's in the case, All other things you know give place," cried Mrs. Ainslie, fixing her penetrating eyes on his countenance. "Yes", said he, avoiding her glance as much as possible, "all other things, but not all other ladies; and my engagements are with ladies. I have to sing at Lady D's one night; at Lady C- 's another; then quadrille balls without end." "I did not know, my dear," said Mrs. Ainslie, coldly," that Mr. Mandeville was a singing and dancing gentleman.' "Oh yes; he does both exquisitely." "But does he never think proper to sing and dance with you?-Pray, Mr. Mandeville, would not Miss Mortimer, that is, your cousin Ellen's being in London for a short time be a sufficient excuse for your singing one duet and dancing one quadrille less in an evening where she is not, in order to enable you to dance and sing where she is?" "Certainly, certainly," he replied in a hurried manner; "certainly, at some places; but I really did wish to have gone about with Ellen and shewn her London." "And can you not?" "Never mind whether he can or not," said Ellen, rather indignantly; "since, since"-here she paused, covered with blushes, for she was conscious of this feeling; "as he is not, I see, anxious to stay at home with me, I do not much care whether he goes abroad with me or not. Mandeville now saw that Ellen resented his manner and conduct, and not being willing to break with her entirely, he soothingly replied; "nay, my dear Ellen, do not make my misfortune, in being forced to relinquish your society, greater than it already is, by seeming to consider it as my fault. But why lose the time present? Ellen, let us now go somewhere. Ellen do not frown on me! Dearest Ellen forgive me?” Mrs. Ainslie now thought, as Charles's manner was become humble, and his looks and tones tender, that she ought to quit the room. But she had scarcely reached the landing place when another knock at the door announced the arrival of visitors, and she re-seated herself much, as she again fancied, to the relief of Mandeville and disappointment of the still believing Ellen; she now saw Mandeville speaking in a low voice to her, and what he said was received with a blush and an enquiring eye directed to her."What does that look say, Miss Mortimer?" cried she smiling. "That Ellen wishes to take a walk with me, and see some sights if you have no objection." "Certainly not, my footman shall attend you; I only require that you should return time enough for your cousin to go out with me in my car riage." Mandeville promised to be obedient to her wishes, and Ellen went to equip herself for her walk. It was with mixed feelings in which pain predominated, that Ellen took out her bonnet which was made on purpose to wear in London; for it was exactly like one which Charles used to admire, and say that she looked remarkably pretty in; there fore when the original hat was worn out, the fond and flattered girl bought another to re-place it, and had a tender pleasure in anticipating the satisfaction her lover would feel in seeing this proof of her attention to his taste. But now she felt a degree of delicate reluctance to wear this tell-tale hat before him; but she had no other, and with embarrassing consciousness she entered the drawing-room, in which she found Mrs. Ainslie and Charles alone."Dear me, Ellen," cried he as soon as he saw her, "have you no other bonnet than that to put on. That old-fashioned, odd looking thing." "I thought you used to admire it," said Ellen, almost in tears. "Yes, so I did, when it was new and in the country; but here it would be so quizzed." It is new, she was going to say; but she stopt, unable to make the now mortifying avowal; and, turning to Mrs. Ainslie, she timidly said, "what can I do? I see Charles will be ashamed of me in this bonnet." “I own,” said Mrs. Ainslie, “ the bonnet is not fashionable, though becoming; and as I wish you to look like other people in your dress, Ellen, I will lend you my last new one till we can buy another." "Will you, indeed; oh, that will be so kind!" said Ellen, following Mrs. Ainslie to her chamber. When she re-appeared Charles eagerly exclaimed, what a beautiful bonnet, and how becoming! really, Ellen, I think you will not disgrace me now." Heartless, vain creature, thought Mrs. Ainslie; but surely, surely Ellen cannot long bear this. As soon as they were in the street, Charles said, "a very fine woman that, Mrs. Ainslie, still, but terribly severe; I would as soon encounter a wild cat as a woman of that sort." "She is very kind to me, Charles." "Yes, and will be till you displease her; but then beware of a coup de patte-did you not see how she scratched me?" 66 Scratched you, Charles!" Metaphorically, I mean; but whither shall we go Ellen? we are now at the Temple-gate, let us go and look at the gardens.' "And at the Temple too, if you please, Charles; for my dear father lived there many years you know, and when there he fell in love with mamma. I should so like to see his chambers! Shall we ask which were Mr. Mortimer's chambers, where he fell in love with mamma? Nay, do not laugh at me, Charles, I am not quite so silly as you imagine; but I know papa lived in Paper-buildings." "And so do many others." "Indeed! but I should like to look even at the walls." Claremont's ground annihilated all the beauty of the Temple river to her. "That river is the Thames, Ellen," he replied peevishly, not pleased at the mention of Sir Henry, for the jealousies of self-love are as pow erful and strong as those of love; and after having taken a turn or two round the garden,-the footman was not allowed to follow,-the gate was unlocked again, and they went forward on their way to the upper regions, as Charles called the other end of the town. As they walked through some of the courts they met young barristers returning home, and Charles found by the evident admiration which Ellen excited that he had reason to be proud of his fair companion, and saying to himself, "she will do, I may venture to shew her in Bond-street," he took her thither, after having first pointed out to her all the principal streets on that side of Oxfordroad, and the best squares. However, I must own, my heroine was as yet more alive to the pleasure of being with Mandeville again, hanging on his arm, than to the charms of what she saw; even his conver sation, egotistical and frivolous as it was, pleased her, because it was his; though she listened with ever. renewed, and ever disappointed expectation, in hopes of hearing him speak the language of the heart, and of still faithful affection. When they returned to Sergeant's Inn, Mrs. Ainslie asked Ellen how she liked her walk. "Oh! very much," she replied, but her observant friend saw that, though her eyes might have been satisfied, her heart was not. "You, I trust, Mr. Mandeville, have been pleased and proud too; for I dare say, as every new face is stared at in town, a new, young, and pretty one also, must have created a great sensation." "It did, I assure you; and Ellen carried away gazer's hearts like burrs sticking to her." "Oh! fye, Charles; how can you say so," replied Ellen, blushing and pleased. "Well then," said Mrs. Ainslie, suppose you go with us into the drive, and help Ellen to give back these hearts, as you there may probably see and know their respective R owners." Mandeville said he was very sorry, but he could not go to the Park with them, as he had an appointment at White's at half past four, but he would thank her to set him down in St. James's-street. 66 "You will dine with us I hope?" Yes, with pleasure, if you dine late." "At seven o'clock precisely." "Then I will have the honour to wait on you." Ellen now grew very thoughtful; and her internal world, poor girl, hid the external one from her view. Charles became his own rival, and by dint of thinking of him and his conversation she almost forgot that he was present. She had been with him alone in a crowd, the next thing to being alone in a room; but no language resembling that of love, or even affectionate interest, had escaped him. He had talked incessantly, but entirely of himself, and his fine acquaintance, and his singing, and the admiration it excited. Then he knew this lady, the most beautiful creature in the world; and that lady, the most fascinating and accomplished; and another, whom to see was to adore; but when Ellen, pale, spiritless, and jealous beyond expression, could scarcely ask the name of these charmers, she heard, with an odd mixture of pleasure and pain, that these irresistible creatures were married women or widows of a certain age; and though her jealousy suffered less, her morals suffered a great deal. Oh! thought she, even one short walk in our village, alone with Charles, was worth all our noisy, bustling, long walk to-day; and this is my eagerly expected pleasure in London. Sir Henry Claremont would hardly believe what I could tell him! "Ellen is in a reverie,” said Charles to Mrs. Ainslie. "Yes, thinking of the absent, I suspect," "she replied. That picqued him, and he tried to make her talk, but even the tone of his voice was altered; and while Ellen heard him she was so engaged in comparing his past with his present voice, his past with his present manner, that she scarcely heard what he said; and while she almost unconsciously fixed her meaning, and nearly tearful eyes on his face, he dared not encounter, because he could not respond to their appealing expression; therefore he was very glad when they reached St. James's-street. His adieus were soon spoken, and he disappeared without one of those lingering looks that speak the reluctance with which a beloved object is quitted, and a wish to see that object still, while it is at all visible. Alas! Ellen's eyes pursued him thus, and saw him till he could be seen no more. "Your cousin is a very handsome young man," said Mrs. Ainslie. "Yes, very." "How long was he at R—?" "Indeed!" replied Mrs. Ainslie But how strange it was," said Mrs. Ainslie," that Mr. Mandeville "But that lady is old, and faded, and fardée. The man ought to have better taste than to prefer her to you.' True, but she was a woman of fashion, and Mandeville was flattered by being seen with her. Again Ellen tried to catch his attention, but in vain; and as Mrs. Ainslie saw that all her pleasure in the scene was over she desired the coachman to get out of the Park as fast as he could, and drive to a French milliner's in Conduit-street. Had they gone down the drive again Mandeville meant to have seen them. After the mortified and even mournful Ellen had tried on two or three bonnets, with a degree of indifference painful to behold in so young a person, as it was unnatural at her age, and only too indicative of an oppressed heart, she bought one, which Mrs. Ainslie admired; and having engaged a very fashionable hair-dresser, to cut and dress Ellen's hair, Mrs. Ainslie, as there was yet time, drove to the gallery of a fashionable painter. There her attention was rivetted by an unfinished whole-length portrait of a gentleman, and she eagerly called Ellen to admire it. "What a countenance! what eyes! what a meek benignant expression about the mouth!-I never saw such a face! I have seen handsomer, perhaps, but one so captivating never! Is it not charming, Ellen ?" As she said this, she looked at her, and saw her covered with blushes. "I know the original," said Ellen, smiling. It is Sir Henry Clare iont." "Indeed! Oh! Ellen! Ellen! that your Sir Henry Claremont ?" "He is not mine." his mother; and Sir Henry, as she is dead, cannot bear to have it finished.' "I would give something," said Mrs. Ainslie, passing her arm through Ellen's, to see that picture finished one day. What an attached, affectionate husband would such a son make! Aye, and I dare say he is a faithful lover !" Ellen did not reply, but she involuntarily turned her eyes on the picture. The pensive penetrating eye seemed to fix even reproachfully upon her, and what and whom had she preferred to him! Ellen sighed, and turned suddenly away. "Good bye, most captivating being !" said Mrs. Ainslie to the picture, "I will come and see you again very soon, and would that I knew the original!" "He is handsomer than his picture, said the attendant," and as good as he is handsome, Madam. My brother is one of his servants, and my sister is married to one of his tenants, and they say he is an angel upon earth!" Come away, Ellen,-come away! if your heart can stand this, mine can't, I assure you!" Ellen smiled, spite of herself, with pride and pleasure too, for this admirable creature loved her, even though she loved another. Again she was absent and taciturn, while Mrs. Ainslie, wishing her to be left to her own reflections, made no effort to engage her in conversation. Never had Ellen been so absorbed in the business of the toilet as she was to day. Mrs. Ainslie kindly superintended and patiently answered all Ellen's enquiries, as to what was fashionable, rather than as to what was becoming; for she had discovered that fashion was every thing with Mandeville. At length not satisfied with her appearance, for her aim was to recall a strayed heart, and love makes every one humble, Ellen, attired entirely to the satisfaction of Mrs. Ainslie and to the loud admiration of Mr. Ainslie, seated herself on a sofa that held only two, and with a beating heart awaited the arrival of Charles, for she could not help hoping, spite of all that had passed, that he would come early; but he came last, and was evidently not solicitous to sit next Ellen at table. Mrs. Ainslie, however, conscious that Ellen |