that had reached its crisis; and the young peer who could not, in the present state of things, abandon the field to a rival so formidable as Denbigh, even to further his views to preferment, was waiting in anxious suspense the decision on his application.  A letter from his friend informed him, his opponent was likely to succeed; that, in short, all hopes of success had left him.  Chatterton was in despair.  On the following day, however, he received a second letter from the same friend, unexpectedly announcing his appointment.  After mentioning the fact, he went on to say—­“The cause of this sudden revolution in your favor is unknown to me, and unless your lordship has obtained interest I am ignorant of, it is one of the most singular instances of ministerial caprice I have ever known.”  Chatterton was as much at a loss as his friend, to understand the affair; but it mattered not; he could now offer to Emily—­it was a patent office of great value, and a few years would amply portion his sisters.  That very day, therefore, he proposed, and was refused.

Emily had a difficult task to avoid self-reproach, in regulating her deportment on this occasion.  She was fond of Chatterton as a relation—­as her brother’s friend—­as the brother of Grace, and even on his own account; but it was the fondness of a sister.  His manner—­his words, which, although never addressed to herself, were sometimes overheard unintentionally, and sometimes reached her through her sisters, had left her in no doubt of his attachment; she was excessively grieved at the discovery, and had innocently appealed to her aunt for directions how to proceed.  Of his intentions she had no doubt, but at the same time he had not put her in a situation to dispel his hopes; as to encouragement, in the usual meaning of the term, she gave none to him, nor to any one else.  There are no little attentions that lovers are fond of showing to their mistresses, and which mistresses are fond of receiving, that Emily ever permitted to any gentleman—­no rides—­no walks—­no tete-a-tetes.  Always natural and unaffected, there was a simple dignity about her that forbade the request, almost the thought, in the gentlemen of her acquaintance:  she had no amusements, no pleasures of any kind in which her sisters were not her companions; and if anything was on the carpet that required an attendant, John was ever ready.  He was devoted to her; the decided preference she gave him over every other man, upon such occasions, flattered his affection; and he would, at any time, leave even Grace Chatterton to attend his sister.  All this too was without affectation, and generally without notice.  Emily so looked the delicacy and reserve she acted with so little ostentation that not even her own sex had affixed to her conduct the epithet of squeamish; it was difficult, therefore, for her to do anything which would show Lord Chatterton her disinclination to his suit, without assuming a dislike she did not feel,