n, like a man who
habitually wears very thick shoes and is used to take his own time. In
the course of his evolutions he brought his foot down heavily on the
skirt of a lady's dress, and turning round to apologize found himself
face to face with his wife! To do him justice he was not the least
taken aback--anger rather than confusion seemed to be his dominant
feeling; and although he tried to smother a rising oath in a laugh, or
rather a grin, it was such a muscular contraction of the mouth as does
not give me the idea of a smile.

"Come out for a lark too, my lady, hey?" said the Baronet, studiously
interposing his large person between "my lady" and his partner.
"Reminds one of Paris; dance with anybody, whether one knows them or
not." And Sir Guy tried to look as if he was telling the truth with
indifferent success. But Lady Scapegrace's face was a perfect study; I
never saw a countenance so expressive of scorn--intense scorn--and
yet, as it seemed to me, not so much of him as of herself.

"I am glad you amuse yourself, Sir Guy," she said very quietly; but
her lip was as white as ashes while she spoke. "I should think this
place must suit you exactly. Mr. Jones, we shall be late for the
fireworks." And she swept on, taking no further notice of the
discomfited Sir Guy, whilst Frank and I followed in her wake, feeling
rather awkward even at witnessing this ill-timed _rencontre_.

"And so you leave town to-morrow, Miss Coventry?" said Frank; and I
thought his voice shook a little whilst he spoke. "I shall ride down
Lowndes Street every day, and think how deserted it looks. No more
walks in the morning for _me_, no more pleasant rides in the
afternoons; I shall send my hacks home and sulk by myself, for I shall
be miserable when my friends are gone. Do you know, Miss Coventry"--I
listened, all attention; how could I tell what he might _not_ be going
to say?--"do you know that I have never had courage to ask you
something till to-night?" (Goodness! I thought, _now_ it's coming, and
my heart beat as it does when I'm going out hunting.) "I want you to
give me" (a lock of my hair, thinks I. Well, I don't know; perhaps I
may)--"I want you to give me--Miss Horsingham's receipt for making
barley-water; but I know it's a long business to write out, and I'm
afraid of being troublesome." So that was all, was it? I felt half
inclined to laugh, and more than half inclined to cry; but turning
round I was somewhat consoled to find L