is heart; he
has no disguise; and unless I am to suppose that marriage is the end of
me, I must keep him among my treasures. I see him almost daily; it is not
possible to think I can be deceived; and as long as he does me the honour
to esteem my poor portion of brains by coming to me for what he is good
enough to call my counsel, I shall let the world wag its tongue. Between
ourselves, I trust to be doing some good. I know I am of use in various
ways. No doubt there is a danger of a woman's head being turned, when she
reflects that a powerful Minister governing a kingdom has not considered
her too insignificant to advise him; and I am sensible of it. I am, I
assure you, dearest, on my guard against it. That would not attach me to
him, as his homely friendliness does. He is the most amiable, cheerful,
benignant of men; he has no feeling of an enemy, though naturally his
enemies are numerous and venomous. He is full of observation and humour.
How he would amuse you! In many respects accord with you. And I should
not have a spark of jealousy. Some day I shall beg permission to bring
him to Copsley. At present, during the Session, he is too busy, as you
know. Me--his "crystal spring of wisdom"--he can favour with no more than
an hour in the afternoon, or a few minutes at night. Or I get a pencilled
note from the benches of the House, with an anecdote, or news of a
Division. I am sure to be enlivened.

'So I have written to you fully, simply, frankly. Have perfect faith in
your Tony, who would, she vows to heaven; die rather than disturb it and
her heart's beloved.'

The letter terminated with one of Lord Dannisburgh's anecdotes, exciting
to merriment in the season of its freshness;--and a postscript of
information: 'Augustus expects a mission--about a month; uncertain
whether I accompany him.'

Mr. Warwick departed on his mission. Diana remained in London. Lady
Dunstane wrote entreating her to pass the month--her favourite time of
the violet yielding to the cowslip--at Copsley. The invitation could not
be accepted, but the next day Diana sent word that she had a surprise for
the following Sunday, and would bring a friend to lunch, if Sir Lukin
would meet them at the corner of the road in the valley leading up to the
heights, at a stated hour.

Lady Dunstane gave the listless baronet his directions, observing: 'It's
odd, she never will come alone since her marriage.'

'Queer,' said he of the serenest absence of conscien