ect brought out his natural eloquence and
masculine sense, the talkers became listeners, the knot widened into a
circle, and he himself was unconsciously the object of general attention
and respect.

"And what think you of Mr. Maltravers?" asked Ferrers, carelessly; "does
he keep up your expectations?"

Lady Florence had sunk into a reverie, and Ferrers repeated his
question.

"He is younger than I imagined him,--and--and--"

"Handsomer, I suppose, you mean."

"No! calmer and less animated."

"He seems animated enough now," said Ferrers; "but your ladylike
conversation failed in striking the Promethean spark. 'Lay that
flattering unction to your soul.'"

"Ah, you are right--he must have thought me very--"

"Beautiful, no doubt."

"Beautiful!--I hate the word, Lumley. I wish I were not handsome--I
might then get some credit for my intellect."

"Humph!" said Ferrers, significantly.

"Oh, you don't think so, sceptic," said Florence, shaking her head with
a slight laugh, and an altered manner.

"Does it matter what I think," said Ferrers, with an attempted touch at
the sentimental, "when Lord This, and Lord That, and Mr. So-and-so, and
Count What-d'ye-call-him, are all making their way to you, to dispossess
me of my envied monopoly?"

While Ferrers spoke, several of the scattered loungers grouped around
Florence, and the conversation, of which she was the cynosure,
became animated and gay. Oh, how brilliant she was, that peerless
Florence!--with what petulant and sparkling grace came wit and wisdom,
and even genius, from those ruby lips! Even the assured Ferrers felt his
subtle intellect as dull and coarse to hers, and shrank with a reluctant
apprehension from the arrows of her careless and prodigal repartees. For
there was a scorn in the nature of Florence Lascelles which made her
wit pain more frequently than it pleased. Educated even to
learning--courageous even to a want of feminacy--she delighted to sport
with ignorance and pretension, even in the highest places; and the laugh
that she excited was like lightning;--no one could divine where next it
might fall.

But Florence, though dreaded and unloved, was yet courted, flattered,
and the rage. For this there were two reasons: first, she was a
coquette, and secondly, she was an heiress.

Thus the talkers in the room were divided into two principal groups,
over one of which Maltravers may be said to have presided; over the
other, Florence. As the form