thing for a sensation, for nothing is more wearisome than the endless, uneventful round of modern entertainments. I hope you will both aid me in making my fete pass off gaily. You, Lucy, know every one so well that "

"Had we not better go to the saloon, Lady Susan?" interposed Lucy; "poor Lady Hunter will be so awkward if any one else comes before you arrive yourself."

"No, no," retorted Lady Susan, who seemed to have some motive for delaying her return to the saloon as long as possible; "let Lady Hunter receive my guests, if any should arrive. Ha! there comes a second carriage. Eleanor, one of those lovely orangebuds in your hair would complete your tournure. There, love, now you are unique," and having placed the dark green leaves in Eleanor's beautiful tresses, Lady Susan held her at arm's length for a moment, and a strange, peculiar smile crossed her sharp withered features as she said, "and now, my love, you are superb."

Lucy smiled, although in reality her ears were distracted by the crash and din of carriages which had now commenced; and still the perverse old lady lingered, as if the very last business she had to do in the world was to receive the company she had thus summoned to her abode. And still the crash, and din, and noise, and uproar, waxed more furious, and the startled domestics ran hither and thither, followed by troops of elaborately dressed squires and squiresses, and doors banged right and left, and feet went pattering upstairs and down, and there was a rustling of satins, and a creaking of boots. And still Lady Susan kept her two companions beside her, smiling at Lucy's bewilderment and Eleanor's nervousness, until at length she threw her train over one arm, and taking hold of Eleanor with the other, led the way, followed by Lucy, to the saloon.

The terrible Mr. Mac Graw, with a white wand in his hand, was waiting to announce her; and, as Eleanor passed along the brilliantly lighted vestibule, with its crowd of footmen all hurrying to present themselves before the haughty Lady Susan, she could scarcely prevent herself from feeling that all this pomp and parade made even Lady Susan's faults pardonable. But her speculations were abruptly cut short by Mac Graw's opening the door to its fullest extent, and announcing with stentorian lungs, "Lady Susan Clarendon-Miss Clarendon-Miss Denn ison."

Eleanor felt a whirl of emotions crowding upon her. She neither saw that the room was full of company, every one of whom were scrutinising her with lynx-eyed curiosity, nor that Lady Susan's triumph was complete. The surprise and pleasure she felt had literally intoxicated her, and thus absorbed in her

own sensations, she suffered Lady Susan to lead her down the room, introducing her on every side as she passed, whilst the room seemed to whirl around her, mixing up in a wild phantasmagoria the dry, shrewd, cautious faces of the old gentlemen, and the well-bred, yet equally withered faces of the old ladies, the bright, fresh faces of the young girls, and the bronzed, yet manly faces of the young men, most of whom were still standing grouped together, for the icy stiffness of the evening had not thawed sufficiently to enable them to dissolve into particles, and mingle with the rest of the company.

Suddenly Lady Susan uttered a name which recalled Eleanor to her sober senses.

"Mr. Norman Macdonald, my love," were her words.

Eleanor trembled in spite of herself, and looked up not without many misgivings, for she had painted Norman Macdonald like a very ogre to her own imagination.

A young man, dressed with exquisite simplicity, stood before her, whose whole appearance amply justified the eulogium Lady Susan had already passed upon him. A rich olive complexion, set off by eyes so brilliant that Eleanor almost wondered at the singular attraction they lent to his finely chiselled features; his dark hair falling in a rich mass over a broad manly brow; the winning smile that hovered around his mouth; his elegant person, and polished manners:- these were the first of Mr. Norman Macdonald's advantages and possessions which Eleanor had time to note, as Norman, blushing, yet easy and entirely self-possessed, smiled and bowed, and whispered his well-bred badinage to Lady Susan, whilst he gazed on Eleanor with an easy assumption of bashfulness, and of admiration, which equally sustained his character for politeness and savoir-vivre at the same moment.

And when Lady Susan introduced Miss Clarendon, and Norman had thus secured her hand for the first dance, aud thereupon had led her away to the dancing-room, commencing their acquaintance by an observation, not upon any subject in which he could display his own wonderful abilities,-for do we not think ourselves philosophers at five-and-twenty?-but, by admiring Eleanor's friend Lucy's simplicity of character, Mr. Norman thereby displayed his own tact and wisdom, and Eleanor at once felt all her own prejudice melting away like frostwork before the noonday sun; and, before they were half through their first quadrille, she began to wonder why she had ever disliked him at all, and to fancy that, after Cecil, this Norman Macdonald was by far the manliest and the most fascinating man she had ever known in her lifetime.

What a glow of satisfaction stirred up old Lady Susan's frosty

heart, as she stood with her back against the wall, surrounded by a knot of ancient gentlewomen, eyeing Eleanor and Norman dancing together! She saw Norman bend down, and Eleanor's bright, lovely face lifted up to his with a conscious smile; and she turned away with a composed step, and a proud heart that was already beating high for the future.

Every thing fed her expectations; every word she heard uttered ministered to her hopes; every tongue hymned the praise of Miss Eleanor Clarendon; and every one declared that this, the last of all the Clarendons, surpassed them all in beauty, and grace, and elegance. Wherever Eleanor stirred, a crowd formed around her, to admire, to worship, and to applaud; and old Lady Susan, with her pursed-up lips, and wrinkled brow, and half-closed eyes, beheld it all, and rejoiced. exceedingly.

It was nearly midnight, and the ball-room was well-nigh deserted, whilst the supper-room, the conservatory, and the adjoining tent on the lawn, were crowded to excess. In the latter, Eleanor, leaning on Norman Macdonald's arm, moved amongst the crowd, with a flushed yet happy countenance, on the fair lines of which the record of this her first triumph was written. The incense of adulation was so new to her, that it would have required the fortitude of a stoic to have withstood the temptation; and Eleanor was not a stoic, but a gentle, amiable, charming girl, with much that was loveable, and very little that was heroic, in her character; and so she enjoyed it all, and smiled when Norman spoke, and her little heart was in a wild flutter of delight, and the whole scene seemed but the fleeting vision of some fairy tale, and she almost trembled lest the lights, and the music, and the buzz of pleasure, and the beautiful dresses, and the happy faces, should suddenly disappear, and leave her in darkness and despair.

"I must not allow you to monopolize Eleanor," said Lady Susan, with no little consequence, as they chanced to meet just at this moment; "there is poor St. John in despair at his ill success, and as for Sir Charles Macdonald and Harry Cameron, they Vow vengeance against you, Norman-"

"For winning Miss Clarendon from their clutches," said Norman, smiling; "ah, Lady Susan, can you wonder at the crime when the temptation is so great?"

'Had you been that odious thing, a male flirt," said Lady Susan, sericusly, "I should not have trusted Eleanor with you so long; but now begone, and pay your respects to Lady Mary Winston, or there will be war in heaven."

"Poor Lady Mary," sighed Norman, in his blandest accents; "look at her, Miss Clarendon,"-directing her attention to

the lady opposite,-"did you ever see such a Niobe before? the very curl of her nose seems charged with grief."

"Norman, I insist upon your decamping," said Lady Susan, significantly, as she drew Eleanor's arm within her own; "Miss Clarendon, I'm sure, is quite bored with your company already."

"Miss Clarendon, I'm sure, could not be so cruel as to confirm your ladyship's maledictions," retorted Norman, darting an impassioned look upon Eleanor. "Do not, my dear Miss Clarendon, confirm from those ruby lips so shocking--"

"I shall cheerfully confirm anything Lady Susan chooses to say," rejoined Eleanor, laughing, "if you do not obey her, Mr. Macdonald,--"

"What a vile calumny you would give countenance to!" said Norman, with a rueful smile, as he prepared to move. "Ah, my dear St. John, what a happy man you are!" cried he, with sudden vivacity, the next moment, spinning round by the shoulders a heavy, good-looking, prosy young man, who chanced to saunter up. "I wish you joy, my dear fellow; you are going to be admitted into paradise-faith! the garden of Eden, or Prince Azmor's enchanted palace in the desolate island, was nothing to it. Ha! ha! you're a lucky fellow, St. John," and he clapped his auditor on the back at every word, whilst the latter, almost deprived of breath, could only ejaculate,

"Ugh! ugh! what a fellow you are, Macdonald-what's all the noise about, eh, Lady Susan, eh? can you explain-ugh— won't you introduce-ugh! ugh! Miss Clarendon, your servant, ma'am-ugh! ugh!—give over, Macdonald,—ugh! ugh!"

"Ugh! ugh!" echoed Norman, mimicking him in such a manner as to make even Eleanor smile, "Miss Clarendon is your most obedient, St. John-ugh! ugh!" and with an easy bow to Eleanor, and a threatening shake to Lady Susan, he turned on his heel and sidled up to Lady Mary Winston.

"My dear Lady Mary, take my arm, and let us walk about and quiz the company," cried the abominable vagabond, setling his cravat. Ha ha! ha! there's poor St. John fairly caught by Lady Susan's élève: seen her, Lady Mary?" bringing his glass with great coolness to bear upon the spot where Eleanor still stood, the victim of St. John's attentions. "Rather striking, eh? splendid figure, and brilliant eyes, but very insipid; dreadfully shy, in my opinion-never been out before, probably."

"To judge by the way Mr. Norman Macdonald has hovered round Miss Clarendon all the evening," said Lady Mary, twirling her fan, and never looking towards the person she addressed," she must be very insipid indeed; I have not seen

him speak to any of his own friends this evening, yet-but of course, Miss Clarendon's beauty, and Miss Clarendon's wit and grace, must throw such an admirer of the sex as Mr. Macdonald is known to be, into ecstacies."

Norman shrugged his shoulders and began to hum a sprightly ariette. He could afford to have inuendos flung at him; he could afford to be flouted with his admiration of a new beauty, -he, with his prestege of popularity, his reputation for ladykilling, his fine estate, and his fastidiousness.

And then Eleanor was so lovely, so peerless; there was no vile dross in the charms that won his admiration, and led his erring steps from poor Lady Mary Winston, who, though an earl's daughter, with an unsullied pedigree and a Jew's dower, was neither handsome, nor talented, nor good tempered. Eleanor was so fresh, so unhackneyed in the keen zest and pleasure with which she enjoyed everything. Her very ignorance was so original and piquant, that Norman could not stifle the admiration rising in his heart, when he glanced over to her and then turned round upon the indignant Lady Mary beside him. "Look at St. John, Lady Mary; I declare the man's bewitched, broke down, by Jove, and not able to utter one word of badinage or sober sense, even-do you not pity the poor fool?"

"Look at his great red face and his staring eyes," chimed in Lady Mary, raising her glass, and laughing ill-naturedly; "poor St. John!"

"Ha! ha! Lady Mary, will you dance?" said Norman, seizing with infinite dexterity the happy moment, and before she well knew where she was, Lady Mary's arm was on Norman's shoulder, and with his hand round her waist, was suffering herself to be whirled round the room in one of the most rapid of waltzes; whilst poor Eleanor, having droned through a quadrille with St. John, who was very honest and simple, and even respectable, as a country gentleman, yet sadly out of place in a crowded ball-room, sat down in the first empty place she could find, and began to grow misanthropical.

Eric Dennison, simple and noble even in the midst of such a scene, very fortunately passed just in time to prevent such a catastrophe. His fine, venerable features lighted up with a smile of pleasure the moment he perceived her, and with an exclamation of surprise he said, as he offered her his arm, "You here, Miss Clarendon, and alone! why, what revolution can have surprised our young men, to suffer you to be so neglected !"

"I am not neglected, dear Mr. Dennison," said Eleanor.