er circumstances so
distressing, the Countess of Marney held a great assembly at the family
mansion in St James Square, which Lord Marney had intended to have let
to a new club, and himself and his family to have taken refuge for a
short season at an hotel, but he drove so hard a bargain that before the
lease was signed, the new club, which mainly consisted of an ingenious
individual who had created himself secretary, had vanished. Then it was
agreed that the family mansion should be inhabited for the season by
the family; and to-night Arabella was receiving all that great world of
which she herself was a distinguished ornament.

"We come to you as early as possible my dear Arabella," said Lady
Deloraine to her daughter-in-law.

"You are always so good! Have you seen Charles? I was in hopes he would
have come," Lady Marney added in a somewhat mournful tone.

"He is at the House: otherwise I am sure he would have been here," said
Lady Deloraine, glad that she had so good a reason for an absence, which
under any circumstances she well knew would have occurred.

"I fear you will be sadly in want of beaus this evening, my love. We
dined at the Duke of Fitz-Aquitaine's, and all our cavaliers vanished.
They talk of an early division."

"I really wish all these divisions were over," said Lady Marney. "They
are very anti-social. Ah! here is Lady de Mowbray."

Alfred Mountchesney hovered round Lady Joan Fitz-Warene, who was
gratified by the devotion of the Cupid of May Fair. He uttered
inconceivable nothings, and she replied to him in incomprehensible
somethings. Her learned profundity and his vapid lightness effectively
contrasted. Occasionally he caught her eye and conveyed to her the
anguish of his soul in a glance of self-complacent softness.

Lady St Julians leaning on the arm of the Duke of Fitz-Aquitaine stopped
to speak to Lady Joan. Lady St Julians was determined that the heiress
of Mowbray should marry one of her sons. She watched therefore with
a restless eye all those who attempted to monopolize Lady Joan's
attention, and contrived perpetually to interfere with their manoeuvres.
In the midst of a delightful conversation that seemed to approach a
crisis, Lady St Julians was sure to advance, and interfere with some
affectionate appeal to Lady Joan, whom she called her "dear child" and
"sweetest love," while she did not deign even to notice the unhappy
cavalier whom she had thus as it were unhorsed.

"My sweet