ory to his general character for
pleasing the opposite sex; and this satisfaction was no sooner conceived
than it was immediately combated by the vexation he felt that Lucy did
not seem to share his own desire that she should become the wife of the
courtier. There appeared as if in that respect there was a contest in
his mind between interest on one hand and private dislike or contempt on
the other.

"You judge women wrongly!" said Brandon. "Ladies never know each
other; of all persons, Mauleverer is best calculated to win them, and
experience has proved my assertion. The proudest lot I know for a woman
would be the thorough conquest of Lord Mauleverer; but it is impossible.
He may be gallant, but he will never be subdued. He defies the whole
female world, and with justice and impunity. Enough of him. Sing to me,
dear Lucy."

The time for the ball approached; and Lucy, who was a charming girl and
had nothing of the angel about her, was sufficiently fond of gayety,
dancing, music, and admiration to feel her heart beat high at the
expectation of the event.

At last the day itself came. Brandon dined alone with Mauleverer, having
made the arrangement that he, with the earl, was to join his brother
and niece at the ball. Mauleverer, who hated state, except on great
occasions, when no man displayed it with a better grace, never suffered
his servants to wait at dinner when he was alone or with one of his
peculiar friends. The attendants remained without, and were summoned at
will by a bell laid beside the host.

The conversation was unrestrained.

"I am perfectly certain, Brandon," said Mauleverer, "that if you were
to live tolerably well, you would soon get the better of your nervous
complaints. It is all poverty of blood, believe me. Some more of the
fins, eh?--No! Oh, hang your abstemiousness; it is d----d unfriendly to
eat so little! Talking of fins and friends, Heaven defend me from ever
again forming an intimacy with a pedantic epicure, especially if he
puns!"

"Why, what has a pedant to do with fins?"

"I will tell you,--ah, this madeira--I suggested to Lord Dareville, who
affects the gourmand, what a capital thing a dish all fins (turbot's
fins) might be made. 'Capital!' said he, in a rapture; 'dine on it with
me to-morrow.' 'Volontiers!' said I. The next day, after indulging in
a pleasing revery all the morning as to the manner in which Dareville's
cook, who is not without genius, would accomplish the grand