feels that with her fate the happiness of another is indissolubly united; for, even if she rejects the offer, the fact of its having been made, is a bond of union from which neither party gets free—­Sir Stratford Manvers had proposed:  had she accepted him? did she love him? ay, did she love him?—­a question apparently easy to answer, but to an ingenuous spirit which knows not how to analyze its feelings, impossible.  Sir Stratford was young, handsome, clever—­but there was a certain something, a je ne scais quoi about him, which marred the effect of all these qualities.  A look, a tome that jarred with the rest of his behaviour, and suggested a thought to the very persons who were enchanted with his wit, and openness, and generosity—­Is this real? is he not an actor? a consummate actor, if you will—­but merely a great performer assuming a part.  By the side of the bright and dashing Manvers, rose to the visionary eyes of the beautiful girl the pale and thoughtful features of Mr Lawleigh.  She heard the music of his voice, and saw the deep eyes fixed on her with the same tender expression of interest and admiration as she had noticed during his visit at the Castle.  She almost heard the sigh with which he turned away, when she had appeared to listen with pleasure to the sparkling conversation of Sir Stratford.  She had not accepted Sir Stratford, and she did not love him.  When a girl hesitates between two men, or when the memory of one is mixed up with the recollection of another, it is certain that she loves neither.  And strange to say, now that her thoughts reverted to Mr Lawleigh, she forgot Sir Stratford altogether.  She wondered that she had said so little to Mr Lawleigh, and was sorry she had not been kinder—­she recalled every word and every glance—­and could not explain why she was pleased when she recollected how sad he had looked when he had taken leave one little week before.  How differently he had appeared the happy night of the county assembly, and at the still happier masked ball at the Duke of Rosley’s!  Blind, foolish girl, she thought, to have failed to observe these things before, and now!——­

“I have written to Lorrington, my dear Alice,” said the Countess, “as head of the family, and your eldest brother, it is a compliment we must pay him—­but it is mere compliment, remember.”

     “To write to William?” mamma.

     “I presume you know to what subject I allude,” continued the
     Countess.  “He will give his consent of course.”

“Oh, mamma!” cried Alice, while tears sprang into her eyes, “I was in hopes you would have spared me this.  Don’t write to William; or let me tell him—­let me add in a postscript—­let me”——­

     “You will do what I wish you, I conclude—­and I have told Sir
     Stratford”——­

     “Oh, what? what have you told him?”

     “That he is accepted.  I trust I shall hear no more on the
     subject.  The marriage will take place in two months.”