The respect she had felt for him-as her wedded husband, as her guide, her superior in understanding and in knowledgewas gone, and with it the halo she had willingly thrown around his age. She now looked upon him as a passé profligate, to whom in a moment of infatuation she had linked her youth; one whom his own inconstancy had exonerated her from loving, and to whom she only owed the bare duties of obedience and fidelity, in compliance with her marriage vow.

She no longer felt bound to sacrifice her own tastes to his; and she adopted an independent tone, which was by no means agreeable to Lord Montreville, although, by having slacked the reins when first he feared his own aberrations were discovered, he found it somewhat difficult to again tighten them.

He had kept his resolution of breaking off all connexion with his former mistress; and he began to look upon himself as the most exemplary of husbands, to forget Lucy's devotion and forbearance, and his own errors, and to feel that the blame lay all on her side.

He was seldom absent from home; and he acquired the habit of constantly coming in and out of the drawing-room during the morning. Lucy felt watched and suspected-unjustly suspected by him. Her spirit rebelled at the unfairness of mankind. Though meek, while she was anxious to please the husband she looked up to, the sense of injury had aroused in her a spirit which had heretofore lain dormant; and strong in the consciousness that she did nothing wrong, she did not alter her mode of proceeding, but continued to admit morning visiters, and to allow Lionel Delville to lounge away many an hour in St. James's Square before she went out in the carriage.

He had frequently of late presented her with bouquets of the most rare and beautiful flowers, which he professed to bring with him from his sister's villa at Roehampton; and Lucy had no scruple in accepting the nosegay which her husband's cousin brought from the country.

• It so happened that Lord Montreville one day accompanied some ladies to Colville's nursery garden, and they there admired a row of beautiful nosegays, which were delicately tied up, and arranged in order. They wished to purchase one of them, when the nurseryman begged to cut some fresh flowers, as these were all bespoken by Lord so and so for Mrs. so and so; and by Sir something somebody for Lady such a thing; and by Mr. Delville for Lady Montreville. The other names were all notoriously coupled together; and that his wife's should be mixed up with such, was enough to irritate any hus

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band. Lord Montreville changed colour, and bit his lips. No more passed. Fresh flowers were procured, and the party proceeded on their ride.

Lord Montreville returned home at dressing time, and came up-stairs in no very placid frame of mind. He knew so much of the vice of the world, that if roused to suspect at all, he suspected a great deal. While Lucy was the simple unsophisticated creature she once was, he rendered justice to her purity; but with him there could be no medium. He could respect perfect innocence, but the first bloom of that innocence passed away, he made no allowances for the foibles of human nature, but fancied it either already plunged, or on the point of plunging, into reckless vice.

When he entered the apartment, the first sight which greeted his eyes was Lionel Delville assisting Lucy to put the identical nosegay in water, that it might be fresh for the evening's ball.

Lord Montreville could scarcely command himself. His blood boiled to his fingers' ends. But, stronger than insulted pride, than love, than jealousy, was in the man of the world, the fear of appearing ridiculous in the eyes of another man of the world.

To an indifferent observer, his greeting would have appeared perfectly calm; his manner to Lionel cordial; that to his wife kind: but they all three knew the world, and none was deceived. Lionel saw his cousin's feelings, and was annoyed, for it would be vexatious to have his pleasant morning visits disturbed, and quite a pity that Lady Montreville's home should be rendered uncomfortable. Lucy, who had learned more of the workings of the human mind in the last year than in all her previous life, also perceived Lord Montreville's inward irritation; and, although she had nothing really to reproach herself with, her conscience led her to guess pretty accurately what caused the storm she saw impending.

Lionel felt his situation as third distressing, and did not linger long after Lord Montreville's entrance. He took a gay and sportive leave; Lucy bade him remember to get the new march from his military band; Lord Montreville added, "Mind, you dine with us to-morrow, my good fellow!"-the door closed.

Lord Montreville patiently awaited while he heard the clank of his boots as he hurried down the stone stairs; he waited till he heard the porter close the street door upon him, and then turning to Lucy, he said, in a tone of choking calmness

"Lady Montreville, this will not do. I must put an immediate stop to your present mode of life."

Lucy could not help feeling frightened out of her wits, but she remembered Alicia Mowbray, and she remembered that Lionel Delville had never spoken a word of love to her, and she roused herself to the onset with a feeling of desperation and of contempt for her monitor.

"What will not do, Lord Montreville? What do you mean to put a stop to?"

"I mean to say that it is not my intention that the house of Montreville should be disgraced while I am its head; and that I shall take every precaution in my power to prevent such being the case."

"Indeed, Lord Montreville! I approve of your resolution, and agree with you, that all who bear so noble a name should be sans peur, et sans reproche."

"Madam!" and for a moment he looked fiercely upon her: "Whatever you may mean by that insinuation, you may remember that bravery is the virtue indispensible in men, while in women it is-chastity; and I tell you fairly, that I shall not be the convenient husband of a wife who flirts with half London, and keeps her favoured lover tame about the house."

"Heavens! Lord Montreville, do you say such things to me? Do you dare say such things?" Her momentary pride was gone; she burst into a flood of tears, and clasping her hands, exclaimed: "Fool that I was, I mistook polished manners for real refinement, and fancied those coarse and vulgar who would never have insulted as you have done!"

"It is certainly a pity you did not choose some one more suited to your unambitious taste; but as you did marry me, and as I have the honour of being your husband, I may be allowed some control over your actions; and I therefore repeat it, I expect you will conduct yourself in such a manner as is consistent with your reputation and my own."

Lord Montreville left the room with coolness and dignity in his air, but with rage and indignation in his heart. Indignant at having been reproached by the creature he had raised to her present brilliant situation, and whose conduct latterly had destroyed the prestige which her behaviour to him in his illness had thrown around her.

Lucy remained in an agony of shame and anger, such as had never yet overpowered her. She rushed to her own room, and was found by Milly, who looked in to ask if she would like to have the child, rocking herself backwards and forwards in her chair, with her face buried in her hands, and sobbing audibly.

Milly exclaimed in terror, "Oh, la! my lady, what ever is the matter? My dear young lady, my sweet Miss Lucy, what has happened? Do speak, my dear Miss Lucy! what has happened to any of the dear family?"

"Milly, I am miserable! I am the most miserable wretch in the world!"

"Oh! my lady, don't say so! I can't bear to hear you talk in that way!"

..." Did I not give him my first affections? Have I not been ⚫as truly devoted to him, as if he had loved me with the fervour of youth? Did I not yield to all his old bachelor fancies? I ask you, Milly, could I have nursed him with more tenderness if he had been as dear to me as John was to you? And he was almost as dear; yes, it was with my whole heart that I gave myself up to my attendance upon him. And what do you think has been the return I have met with? That he should prefer to me a mistress! a horrible, wicked, abandoned woman, whose very vice constitutes her charm!"

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"Sure, sure, my lady, somebody has told you false tales. This can never be true."

"It is too true, Milly, I know it! Would I could have any doubt upon the subject! While I was shut up here, not allowed to enjoy myself in society, but passing long tiresome days of seclusion and dullness, and thinking he was attending to his duties, his parliamentary duties, the good of the nation, the welfare of his country, he was carrying on this shameful affair. During my confinement, when I was ill and suffering, he was amusing himself in the company of this woman. Oh! it makes me sick to think of! I have borne it all I have done my duty-I have not complained-I have not reproached him-I have set up with him night after night in his illnessI have not murmured! And now it is he who reproaches me, for at length trying to make myself happy without his affections, when he chooses to lavish them upon a shameless creature! He is angry with me, because everybody does not think me as little agreeable and as little charming as he does! He would wish me to be odious and ugly, to justify himself!" " I am sure, my lady, nobody that knows you can think you odious or ugly."

"It is not my fault if people will think me otherwise." "Certainly, my lady; one could not expect that gentlefolks should not think you a good, kind, pleasant lady as you arei nor one would not wish them not to think so; but"

"But what, Milly ?"

"Why, my lady, though my lord may have done what he should not have done, still, my lady, you are a married

woman."

"I know that, Milly; and I would rather die than be ever led to forget it. If I had allowed the dandies to make love to me-if I had given any one of them reason to imagine I had the least preference for him--if I had in any way deserved such treatment-"

"And do you think, my lady, you would be any the happier if you felt you did deserve it?"

CHAPTER XV.

So as there is as much difference between the counsel that a friend giveth, and that a man giveth himself, as there is between the counsel of a friend and of a flatterer; for there is no such flatterer as a man's self, and there is no such remedy against flattery of a man's self as the liberty of a friend. -LORD BACON'S ESSAYS.

Lucy stopped short. There was something in this simple answer of Milly's that overthrew all the chain of argument with which she was going to bewilder herself. She looked back, and was obliged to confess to herself how little real enjoyment she had felt from all the dissipation of the last season.

"Happiness, Milly! I have done with happiness for ever. All I can now look for is amusement."

"Oh, my lady, depend upon it, a good conscience is all in all. If anybody has every blessing this world can afford, it is of no use, as long as their conscience tells them they have not done what is right; and if it so happens that they are in trouble, why, a good conscience is the only happiness they have left. It is not balls, nor plays, nor such-like, that can cure trouble. I beg your pardon, my lady, for talking so to you'; but, indeed, I do believe that if God sees any of us poor frail creatures fighting against our sorrow with a pious heart, he will help us to bear up against it, and we shall feel something nearer happiness than we ever shall by amusing ourselves with the pleasures of the world. I am sure I ought to be ashamed to speak so to a lady like you, but I am an old woman, and I love you, Miss Lucy; I love you as if you were my own child!"