ere were dropsical figures of seven
with a little three-farthings in the corner; 'perfectly invisible to the
naked eye;' three hundred and fifty thousand ladies' boas, _from_ one
shilling and a penny halfpenny; real French kid shoes, at two and
ninepence per pair; green parasols, at an equally cheap rate; and 'every
description of goods,' as the proprietors said--and they must know
best--'fifty per cent. under cost price.'

'Lor! ma, what a place you have brought us to!' said Miss Teresa; 'what
_would_ Mr. Sparkins say if he could see us!'

'Ah! what, indeed!' said Miss Marianne, horrified at the idea.

'Pray be seated, ladies. What is the first article?' inquired the
obsequious master of the ceremonies of the establishment, who, in his
large white neckcloth and formal tie, looked like a bad 'portrait of a
gentleman' in the Somerset-house exhibition.

'I want to see some silks,' answered Mrs. Malderton.

'Directly, ma'am.--Mr. Smith! Where _is_ Mr. Smith?'

'Here, sir,' cried a voice at the back of the shop.

'Pray make haste, Mr. Smith,' said the M.C. 'You never are to be found
when you're wanted, sir.'

Mr. Smith, thus enjoined to use all possible despatch, leaped over the
counter with great agility, and placed himself before the newly-arrived
customers. Mrs. Malderton uttered a faint scream; Miss Teresa, who had
been stooping down to talk to her sister, raised her head, and
beheld--Horatio Sparkins!

'We will draw a veil,' as novel-writers say, over the scene that ensued.
The mysterious, philosophical, romantic, metaphysical Sparkins--he who,
to the interesting Teresa, seemed like the embodied idea of the young
dukes and poetical exquisites in blue silk dressing-gowns, and ditto
ditto slippers, of whom she had read and dreamed, but had never expected
to behold, was suddenly converted into Mr. Samuel Smith, the assistant at
a 'cheap shop;' the junior partner in a slippery firm of some three
weeks' existence. The dignified evanishment of the hero of Oak Lodge, on
this unexpected recognition, could only be equalled by that of a furtive
dog with a considerable kettle at his tail. All the hopes of the
Maldertons were destined at once to melt away, like the lemon ices at a
Company's dinner; Almack's was still to them as distant as the North
Pole; and Miss Teresa had as much chance of a husband as Captain Ross had
of the north-west passage.

Years have elapsed since the occurrence of this dreadful morning.