again!---how ---copy of Duke's letter to Comte du Chateau-vieux, despatched same time. What a cypher? how obscure? You can decypher?"

"Yes; exceedingly well."

"Ah, well! the X; you do not comprehend that soubriquet."

"Nothing can be easier; it alludes, of course, to the

"A merveille!" exclaimed the Countess; you are a magician. Well, then, you have the papers-admire the Duke's style-plenipotentiary, in the literal meaning of the word, -and dull enough, is it not? Lady Jane's? -good for an English woman! Applaud mine; it is, I assure you, admirable; nothing can be better."

Lord Montague secured the important papers, trifled away another hour with the Countess and Lady Anne de Burgh; and then, with Grosvenor, retired.

"You have astonished me!" said the latter; "I cannot comprehend how you have thus bent to your will the usually proud, highminded, and decided Countess du Chateauvieux."

"My dear sir, man and woman bend equally to management, when one dares to use only truth. It is true, indeed, that I comprehended the foible of this Countess, and that I sought to give it play. To understand human nature, we must observe it ;-to move its mechanism, we must be acquainted with its springs. At present, concerning these papers

I am not to be questioned: I have two hundred and eighty pages to decypher: in two days I shall see you again. Let us now speak of Lady Anne de Burgh."

"I cannot!" said Grosvenor, despairingly. "And why should you not? You have not injured Lady Anne-but-you love Lady Anne."

"I dare not think so!" exclaimed Grosvenor, passionately.

"You are bound, then!-you love, and you are bound to another! Unhappy man! where was your reason when this infatuation undid you!"

"Reason! what had I to do with reason? Lady Jane Lorn always chooses to banish that unwelcome intruder from her circle; and one could not hope to be well received if one carried him in one's hand.'

"Your Deism!-I thought Deists insisted with great vehemence on reason!"

"Deists ?-I ?-Oh, Lord Montague !-to you, whom no strength of mind, no perversity of feeling, no obstinacy of heart, can resist, I avow that I am a Deist in language only!a shameful coward, who dreaded the laugh of the scorner, the sneer of the fool, and the taunt of the profligate; denying my religion with my tongue, wishing to teach my heart to deny it also; but never, never able to effect it!"

"There is hope!-Grosvenor, I, who never yet professed myself the friend of an individual, now bind me to you by that endearing title. Trust me, all may yet be well. I know

how to dispose of these papers :-rely on me, all may yet be well "

Grosvenor seized the extended hand of Lord Montague, and they separated.

CHAP. VIII.

Fie, wrangling queen,

Whom every thing becomes-to chide, to laugh,
To weep; whose every passion fully strives
To make itself in thee fair and admir'd.

t

Diruit, edificat, mutat quadrata rotundis.

SHAKSPEARE.

HORACE.

On the morning of the third day, Lord Montague met Mr. Grosvenor.

"I am not to question you about the papers obtained from the Comtesse du Chateauvieux!" said the latter, after the first salutations.

"Not at present, my dear Grosvenor: you are already aware that they point at the Duke of

"I am, and I am astonished! I confess it would seem to be hazardous, at least, in any man who was not Lord Montague, to aim at a character so distinguished."

"He is not distinguished; you deceive yourself in supposing that he is. He is the Duke of; but England has many dukes. He is not remarkable for talents, or for eloquence ---for great powers of any kind. He is distinguished;---posterity, perhaps, may mention him, as the opposer, the thwarter of the pre

mier, in the same manner as we are aware that one Chalcodon of Cos ever existed, because he wounded Hercules! It is necessary for us that I should visit Lady Jane Lorn :---conduct me to her house instantly :-- I find we shall have just time to ride over to her Richmond villa. Do not let my presence seem a restraint on you; appear exactly as if I were not with you."

They set out;---Lady Jane was at home. "My dear Lady Jane, allow me to introduce

"Stop, my good friend: Lord Montague and I are known to each other---no need of formal introduction. My lord, I am glad to see you; and that is saying a great deal. I hate ceremony; I please myself equally at home and abroad. My guests are at liberty to dispute about the formula of introduction, precedence and etiquette, in all its thousand and one minutiæ, as much as they will. I shall not, like Mademoiselle, the sister of Louis quatorze, pass the fourth part of my life in mortal agonies about that sort of things. "True power and real politeness,' says Voltaire, 'despise ostentation.""

"Always Voltaire with these people," thought Lord Montague.

"And now, Grosvenor," continued Lady Jane, "if you had been, I think, about five minutes later, you would have found me terribly petulant: but though absent, I was angry with you; being present, I at once forgive you. What can you find to say to me on this occasion?---something exceedingly pretty, I hope."

"I will only say, that wit could scarcely have produced a more elegant compliment, or friendship a more flattering reality," replied Grosvenor, shrinking from the fascination of her manner.

"Very good!---thank you. It is as well, perhaps, that you came just as you did, nevertheless: for, have you not often observed at the theatre, that those who are unhappy in themselves, weep immoderately for the fictitious woes of others? So they who are internally iritated, are glad of the opportunity offered by the most trifling or unintentional provocation, to give vent to their smothered feelings of resentment, and revenge as a bitter insult, what, under any other circumstances, they would have laughed at as a harmless jest.'

"That is true, nothing can be more so,' said Lord Montague. "We are to infer that Lady Jane suffers from internal agitation!" looking intently at her.

"C'est passe!" said Lady Jane, avoiding that gaze. "I am now in the most placid, delightful mood imaginable. You must know, Grosvenor, I have been to the exhibition, to see this new portrait that is so puffed up every where. Now, what do you think it is?" "I have no idea, I assure you."

"Lady Anne de Burgh, en Minerve! It is true, I assure you: it strikes me, that the painter is a very despotic Jupiter, who intrudes divinities into Olympus without taking the opinion of the celestial synod."