“Griselda,” he said,—­and it must be admitted that his tone was not bad.  The word sank softly into her ear, like small rain upon moss, and it sank into no other ear.  “Griselda!”

“Mr Palliser!” said she;—­and though she made no scene, though she merely glanced upon him once, he could see that he was wrong.

“May I not call you so?”

“Certainly not.  Shall I ask you to see if my people are there?” He stood a moment before her, hesitating.  “My carriage, I mean.”  As she gave the command she glanced at him again, and then he obeyed her orders.

When he returned she had left her seat; but he heard her name announced on the stairs, and caught a glance of the back of her head as she made her way gracefully down through the crowd.  He never attempted to make love to her again, utterly disappointing the hopes of Lady de Courcy, Mrs Proudie, and Lady Clandidlem.

As I would wish those who are interested in Mr Palliser’s fortunes to know the ultimate result of this adventure, and as we shall not have space to return to his affairs in this little history, I may, perhaps, be allowed to press somewhat forward, and tell what Fortune did for him before the close of that London season.  Everybody knows that in that spring Lady Glencora MacCluskie was brought out before the world, and it is equally well known that she, as the only child of the late Lord of the Isles, was the great heiress of the day.  It is true that the hereditary possession of Skye, Staffa, Mull, Arran, and Bute went, with the title, to the Marquis of Auldreekie, together with the counties of Caithness and Ross-shire.  But the property in Fife, Aberdeen, Perth, and Kincardineshire, comprising the greater part of those counties, and the coal-mines in Lanark, as well as the enormous estate within the city of Glasgow, were unentailed, and went to the Lady Glencora.  She was a fair girl, with bright blue eyes and short wavy flaxen hair, very soft to the eye.  The Lady Glencora was small in stature, and her happy round face lacked, perhaps, the highest grace of female beauty.  But there was ever a smile upon it, at which it was very pleasant to look; and the intense interest with which she would dance, and talk, and follow up every amusement that was offered her, was very charming.  The horse she rode was the dearest love—­oh! she loved him so dearly!  And she had a little dog that was almost as dear as the horse.  The friend of her youth, Sabrina Scott, was—­oh, such a girl!  And her cousin, the little Lord of the Isles, the heir of the marquis, was so gracious and beautiful that she was always covering him with kisses.  Unfortunately he was only six, so that there was hardly a possibility that the properties should be brought together.