ther; "devotedly, distractedly
in love with you. Why, my dear, what is there wonderful in it; look in
the glass, and look at these," she continued, pointing with a smile to
the jewels which I had just removed from my person, and which now lay
a glittering heap upon the table.

"May there not," said I, hesitating between confusion and real alarm;
"is it not possible that some mistake may be at the bottom of all
this?"

"Mistake! dearest; none," said my mother. "None, none in the world;
judge for yourself; read this, my love," and she placed in my hand a
letter, addressed to herself, the seal of which was broken. I read
it through with no small surprise. After some very fine complimentary
flourishes upon my beauty and perfections, as, also, upon the
antiquity and high reputation of our family, it went on to make
a formal proposal of marriage, to be communicated or not to me at
present, as my mother should deem expedient; and the letter wound up
by a request that the writer might be permitted, upon our return to
Ashtown-house, which was soon to take place, as the spring was now
tolerably advanced, to visit us for a few days, in case his suit was
approved.

"Well, well, my dear," said my mother, impatiently; "do you know who
Lord Glenfallen is?"

"I do, madam," said I rather timidly, for I dreaded an altercation
with my mother.

"Well, dear, and what frightens you?" continued she; "are you afraid
of a title? What has he done to alarm you? he is neither old nor
ugly."

I was silent, though I might have said, "He is neither young nor
handsome."

"My dear Fanny," continued my mother, "in sober seriousness you have
been most fortunate in engaging the affections of a nobleman such as
Lord Glenfallen, young and wealthy, with first-rate, yes, acknowledged
_first-rate_ abilities and of a family whose influence is not exceeded
by that of any in Ireland--of course you see the offer in the same
light that I do--indeed I think you _must_."

This was uttered in no very dubious tone. I was so much astonished
by the suddenness of the whole communication that I literally did not
know what to say.

"You are not in love?" said my mother, turning sharply, and fixing her
dark eyes upon me, with severe scrutiny.

"No, madam," said I, promptly; horrified, as what young lady would not
have been, at such a query.

"I am glad to hear it," said my mother, dryly. "Once, nearly twenty
years ago, a friend of mine consulted me how he sh