object of universal idolatry. Crowds followed her wherever she moved
nothing was talked of or dreamed of, toasted or betted on, but Lucy
Brandon; even her simplicity, and utter ignorance of the arts of fine
life, enhanced the eclat of her reputation. Somehow or other,
young people of the gentler sex are rarely ill-bred, even in
their eccentricities; and there is often a great deal of grace in
inexperience. Her uncle, who accompanied her everywhere, himself no
slight magnet of attraction, viewed her success with a complacent
triumph which he suffered no one but her father or herself to detect.
To the smooth coolness of his manner, nothing would have seemed more
foreign than pride at the notice gained by a beauty, or exultation at
any favour won from the caprices of fashion. As for the good old squire,
one would have imagined him far more the invalid than his brother. He
was scarcely ever seen; for though he went everywhere, he was one of
those persons who sink into a corner the moment they enter a room.
Whoever discovered him in his retreat, held out their hands, and
exclaimed, "God bless me! you here! We have not seen you for this age!"
Now and then, if in a very dark niche of the room a card-table had been
placed, the worthy gentleman toiled through an obscure rubber; but more
frequently he sat with his hands clasped and his mouth open, counting
the number of candles in the room, or calculating "when that stupid
music would be over."

Lord Mauleverer, though a polished and courteous man, whose great object
was necessarily to ingratiate himself with the father of his intended
bride, had a horror of being bored, which surpassed all other feelings
in his mind. He could not therefore persuade himself to submit to the
melancholy duty of listening to the squire's "linked speeches long drawn
out." He always glided by the honest man's station, seemingly in an
exceeding hurry, with a "Ah, my dear sir, how do you do? How delighted I
am to see you! And your incomparable daughter? Oh, there she is! Pardon
me, dear sir,--you see my attraction."

Lucy, indeed, who never forgot any one (except herself occasionally),
sought her father's retreat as often as she was able; but her
engagements were so incessant that she no sooner lost one partner than
she was claimed and carried off by another. However, the squire bore his
solitude with tolerable cheerfulness, and always declared that "he was
very well amused; although balls and concerts