t.

While the aspiring schemer was thus agreeably engaged, Mauleverer,
sliding through the crowd with that grace which charmed every one, old
and young, and addressing to all he knew some lively or affectionate
remark, made his way to the dancers, among whom he had just caught a
glimpse of Lucy. "I wonder," he thought, "whom she is dancing with.
I hope it is that ridiculous fellow, Mossop, who tells a good story
against himself; or that handsome ass, Belmont, who looks at his own
legs, instead of seeming to have eyes for no one but his partner. Ah! if
Tarquin had but known women as well as I do, he would have had no reason
to be rough with Lucretia. 'T is a thousand pities that experience
comes, in women as in the world, just when it begins to be no longer of
use to us!"

As he made these moral reflections, Mauleverer gained the dancers, and
beheld Lucy listening, with downcast eyes and cheeks that evidently
blushed, to a young man whom Mauleverer acknowledged at once to be
one of the best-looking fellows he had ever seen. The stranger's
countenance, despite an extreme darkness of complexion, was, to be sure,
from the great regularity of the features, rather effeminate; but, on
the other hand, his figure, though slender and graceful, betrayed to
an experienced eye an extraordinary proportion of sinew and muscle; and
even the dash of effeminacy in the countenance was accompanied by so
manly and frank an air, and was so perfectly free from all coxcombry or
self-conceit, that it did not in the least decrease the prepossessing
effect of his appearance. An angry and bitter pang shot across that
portion of Mauleverer's frame which the earl thought fit, for want
of another name, to call his heart. "How cursedly pleased she looks!"
muttered he. "By Heaven! that stolen glance under the left eyelid,
dropped as suddenly as it is raised; and he--ha! how firmly he holds
that little hand! I think I see him paddle with it; and then the dog's
earnest, intent look,--and she all blushes, though she dare not look
up to meet his gaze, feeling it by intuition. Oh, the demure, modest,
shamefaced hypocrite! How silent she is! She can prate enough to me! I
would give my promised garter if she would but talk to him. Talk, talk,
laugh, prattle, only simper, in God's name, and I shall be happy. But
that bashful, blushing silence,--it is insupportable. Thank Heaven, the
dance is over! Thank Heaven, again! I have not felt such pains since the
las