“Poor girl!” exclaimed, Lucy, “I trust the course of her love may run smoother than mine; but who is she supposed to be in love with?” she asked, not, however, without a blush, which, with all her virtues, was, as woman, out of her power to suppress.

“Oh,” replied Alley, “not with him—­and dear knows it would be no disgrace to her, but the contrary, to fall in love with such a gentleman—­no; but with a young officer of the Thirty-third, who they say is lovely.”

“What is his name, do you not know, Alice?”

“Roberts, I think.  They met at Dean Palmer’s and Lady Gourlay’s; for it seems that Colonel Dundas was an old brother officer of Sir Edward’s, when he was young and in the army.”

“I have met that young officer, Alice,” replied Lucy, “and I know not how it was, but I felt an—­a—­a—­in fact, I cannot describe it.  Those who were present observed that he and I resembled each other very much, and indeed the resemblance struck myself very forcibly.”

“Troth, and if he resembled you, miss, I’m not surprised that Lady Emily fell in love with him.”

“But how did you come to hear all this, Alice?” asked Lucy with a good deal of anxiety.

“Why, miss, there’s a cousin of my own maid to Mrs. Palmer, and you may remember the evenin’ you gave me lave to spend with her.  She gave a party on the same evenin’ and Dandy was there.  I think I never looked better; I had on my new stays, and my hair was done up Grecian.  Any way, I wasn’t the worst of them.”

“I am fatigued, Alice,” said Lucy; “make your narrative as short as you can.”

“I haven’t much to add to it now, miss,” she replied.  “It was observed that Lady Emily’s eyes and his were never off one another.  She refused, it seems, to dance with some major that’s a great lord in the regiment, and danced with Mr. Roberts afterwards.  He brought her down to supper, too, and sat beside her, and you know what that looks like.”

Lucy paused, and seemed as if anxious about something, but at length asked,

“Do you know, Alice, was he there?”

“No, miss,” replied the maid; “Dandy tells me he goes to no great parties at all, he only dines where there’s a few.  But, indeed, by all accounts he’s very unhappy.”

“What do you mean by all accounts,” asked Lucy, a little startled.

“Why, Dandy, miss; so he tells me.”

“Poor Alice!” exclaimed Lucy, looking benignantly upon her.  “I did not think, Alice, that any conversation could have for a moment won me from the painful state of mind in which I entered the room.  Aid me me now to my bedchamber.  I must lie down, for I feel that I should endeavor to recruit my strength some way.  If I could sleep, I should be probably the better for it; but, alas, Alice, you need not be told that misery and despair are wretched bedfellows.”

“Don’t say despair,” replied Alice; “remember there’s a good God above us, who can do better for us than ever we can for ourselves.  Trust in him.  Who knows but he’s only trying you; and severely tried you are, my darlin’ mistress.”