his famous district of industry."

A cloud passed over the countenance of Millbank as the name of Lord
Monmouth was mentioned; but he said nothing, only turning towards
Coningsby, with an air of kindness, to beg him, since to stay longer was
impossible, to dine with him. Coningsby gladly agreed to this and the
village clock was striking five when Mr. Millbank and his guest entered
the gardens of his mansion and proceeded to the house.

The hall was capacious and classic; and as they approached the staircase
the sweetest and the clearest voice exclaimed from above: "Papa, papa!"
and instantly a young girl came bounding down the stairs; but suddenly,
seeing a stranger with her father, she stopped upon the landing-place.
Mr. Millbank beckoned her, and she came down slowly; at the foot of the
stairs her father said briefly: "A friend you have often heard of,
Edith--this is Mr. Coningsby."

She started, blushed very much, and then put forth her hand.

"How often have we all wished to see and to thank you!" Miss Edith
Millbank remarked in tones of sensibility.

Opposite Coningsby at dinner that night was a portrait which greatly
attracted his attention. It represented a woman extremely young and of a
rare beauty. The face was looking out of the canvas, and the gaze of
this picture disturbed the serenity of Coningsby. On rising to leave the
table he said to Mr. Millbank, "By whom is that portrait, sir?"

The countenance of Millbank became disturbed; his expression was
agitated, almost angry. "Oh! that is by a country artist," he said, "of
whom you never heard."

_III.--The Course of True Love_

The Princess Colonna resolved that an alliance should take place between
Coningsby and her step-daughter. But the plans of the princess, imparted
to Mr. Rigby that she might gain his assistance in achieving them, were
doomed to frustration. Coningsby fell deeply in love with Miss Millbank;
and Lord Monmouth himself decided to marry Lucretia.

It was in Paris that Coningsby, on a visit to his grandfather, woke to
the knowledge of his love for Edith Millbank. They met at a brilliant
party, Miss Millbank in the care of her aunt, Lady Wallinger.

"Miss Millbank says that you have quite forgotten her," said a mutual
friend.

Coningsby started, advanced, coloured a little, could not conceal his
surprise. The lady, too, though more prepared, was not without
confusion. Coningsby recalled at that moment the beautiful, bashful
co