Alexander and Campaspe.

“COME hither, child,” said the old Earl of Courtland to his daughter, as, in obedience to his summons, she entered his study; “come hither, I say; I wish to have some serious conversation with you:  so dismiss your dogs, shut the door, and sit down here.”

“Lady Juliana rang for the footman to take Venus; bade Pluto be quiet, like a darling, under the sofa; and, taking Cupid in her arms, assured his Lordship he need fear no disturbance from the sweet creatures, and that she would be all attention to his commands—­kissing her cherished pug as she spoke.

“You are now, I think, seventeen, Juliana,” said his Lordship in a solemn important tone.

“And a half, papa.”

“It is therefore time you should be thinking of establishing yourself in the world.  Have you ever turned your thoughts that way?”

Lady Juliana cast down her beautiful eyes, and was silent.

“As I can give you no fortune,” continued the Earl, swelling with ill-suppressed importance, as he proceeded, “you have perhaps no great pretensions to a very brilliant establishment.”

“Oh! none in the world, papa,” eagerly interrupted Lady Juliana; “a mere competence with the man of my heart.”

“The man of a fiddlestick!” exclaimed Lord Courtland in a fury; “what the devil have you to do with a heart, I should like to know?  There’s no talking to a young woman now about marriage, but she is all in a blaze about hearts, and darts, and—­and—­But hark ye, child, I’ll suffer no daughter of mine to play the fool with her heart, indeed!  She shall marry for the purpose for which matrimony was ordained amongst people of birth—­that is, for the aggrandisement of her family, the extending of their political influence—­for becoming, in short, the depository of their mutual interest.  These are the only purposes for which persons of rank ever think of marriage.  And pray, what has your heart to say to that?”

“Nothing, papa,” replied Lady Juliana in a faint dejected tone of voice.  “Have done, Cupid!” addressing her favourite, who was amusing himself in pulling and tearing the beautiful lace veil that partly shaded the head of his fair mistress.

“I thought not,” resumed the Earl in a triumphant tone—­“I thought not, indeed.”  And as this victory over his daughter put him in unusual good humour, he condescended to sport a little with her curiosity.

“And pray, can this wonderful wise heart of yours inform you who it is you are going to obtain for a husband?”

Had Lady Juliana dared to utter the wishes of that heart she would have been at no loss for a reply; but she saw the necessity of dissimulation; and after naming such of her admirers as were most indifferent to her, she declared herself quite at a loss, and begged her father to put an end to her suspense.

“Now, what would you think of the Duke of L—–?” asked the Earl in a voice of half-smothered exultation and delight.