ughan again, and that she
should engage herself to Ruskinstone forthwith. Eusebius poured in at
one ear his mild milk-and-water attachment, and, in the other, details
of Ernest's scene in the boudoir with Madame de Melusine, or, at least,
what he had seen of it, _i. e._ her parting caress. Selina rang the
changes on her immodesty in loving a man who had never proposed to her;
and Augusta drew lively pictures of the eternal fires which were already
being kept up below, ready for the _Lion's_ reception. Against all these
furious batteries Nina stood firm. All their sneers and arguments could
not shake her belief, all her father's commands--and, when he was
roused, the old banker was very fierce--could not move her to promise
not to see Ernest again, or alter her firm repudiation of the warden's
proposals. The thunder rolled, the lightning flamed, the winds screamed
all to no purpose, the little reed that one might have fancied would
break, stood steady.

The day passed, and the next passed, and there were no tidings of
Ernest. Nina's little loyal heart, despite its unhesitating faith, began
to tremble lest it should have wrecked itself: but then, she thought of
his eyes, and she felt that all the world would never make her mistrust
him.

On the _surlendemain_ the De Melusine called. Gordon and Eusebius were
out, and Nina wished her to be shown up. Ill as the girl felt, she rose
haughtily and self-possessed to greet madame, as, announced by her tall
chasseur, with his green plume, the widow glided into the room.

Pauline kissed her lightly (there are no end of Judases among the dear
sex), and, though something in Nina's eye startled her, she sat down
beside her, and began to talk most kindly, most sympathisingly. She was
_chagrinee, desolee_ that her _chere_ Nina should have been so insulted;
every one knew M. Vaughan was quite _entete_ with that little, horrid,
coarse thing, Bluette; but it was certainly very shocking; men were such
_demons_. The affair was already _repandue_ in Paris; everybody was
talking of it. Ernest was unfortunately so well known; he could not be
in his senses; she almost wished he _was_ mad, it would be the only
excuse for him; wild as he was, she should scarcely have thought, &c.,
&c., &c. "Ah! chere enfant," madame went on at the finish, "you do not
know these men--I do. I fear you have been dazzled by this naughty
fellow; he _is_ very attractive, certainly: if so, though it will be a
sharp pa