“Pull the bell, William, for the carriage,” said his mother; “we must now be moving.”  And with a general obeisance to the company, and a significant pressure of the hand to Mary, she withdrew her son from his dilemma.  Although a shrewd, penetrating woman, she did not possess that tact and delicacy necessary to comprehend the finer feelings of a mind superior to her own; and in Mary’s averted looks and constrained manner she saw nothing but what she thought quite proper and natural in her situation.  “As for Lady Emily,” she observed, “there would be news of her and that fine dashing-looking Colonel yet, and Miss Adelaide would perhaps come down a pin before long.”

Soon after Colonel Lennox took his leave, in spite of Lady Emily’s pressing invitation for him to spend the day there, and meet her brother, who had been absent for some days, but was now expected home.  He promised to return again soon, and departed.

“How prodigiously handsome Colonel Lennox looked to-day,” said she, addressing Mary; “and how perfectly unconscious, at least indifferent, he seems about it.  It is quite refreshing to see a handsome man that is neither a fool nor a coxcomb.”

“Handsome! no, I don’t think he is very handsome,” said Lady Juliana.  “Rather dark, don’t you think, my love?” turning to Adelaide, who sat apart at a table writing, and had scarcely deigned to lift her head all the time.

“Who do you mean?  The man who has just gone out?  Is his name Lennox?  Yes, he is rather handsome.”

“I believe. you are right; he certainly is good-looking, but in a peculiar style.  I don’t quite like the expression of his eye, and he wants that air distingue, which, indeed, belongs exclusively to persons of birth.”

“He has perfectly the air of a man of fashion,” said Adelaide, in a decided tone, as if ashamed to agree with her mother.  “Perhaps un peu militaire, but nothing at all professional.”

“Lennox!—­it is a Scotch name,” observed Lady Juliana contemptuously.

“And, to cut the matter short,” said Lady Emily, as she was quitting the room, “the man who has just gone out is Colonel Lennox, and not the Duke of AItamont.”

After a few more awkward, indefinite sort of visits, in which Mary found it impossible to come to an explanation, she was relieved for the present from the assiduities of her lover.  Lady Juliana received a note from Mrs. Downe Wright, apologising for what she termed her son’s unfortunate absence at such a critical time; but he had received accounts of the alarming illness of his uncle Lord Glenallan, and had, in consequence, set off instantly for Scotland, where she was preparing to follow; concluding with particular regards to Miss Mary—­hopes of being soon able to resume their pleasant footing in the family, etc. etc.

“How excessively well arranged it will be that old man’s dying at this time!” said her Ladyship, as she tossed the note to her daughter; “Lord Glenallan will sound so much better than Mr. Downe Wright.  The name I have always considered as the only objectionable part.  You are really most prodigiously fortunate.”