ajesty of Lucinda's demeanour rather than by any clear idea
in their own minds of the lady who visited Solomon. All men, however,
agreed in this, that Lucinda Roanoke was very handsome, but that she
was not the sort of girl with whom a man would wish to stray away
through the distant beech-trees at a picnic.

In truth she was silent, grave, and, if not really haughty, subject
to all the signs of haughtiness. She went everywhere with her aunt,
and allowed herself to be walked out at dances, and to be accosted
when on horseback, and to be spoken to at parties; but she seemed
hardly to trouble herself to talk;--and as for laughing, flirting, or
giggling, one might as well expect such levity from a marble Minerva.
During the last winter she had taken to hunting with her aunt, and
already could ride well to hounds. If assistance were wanted at a
gate, or in the management of a fence, and the servant who attended
the two ladies were not near enough to give it, she would accept it
as her due from the man nearest to her; but she rarely did more than
bow her thanks, and, even by young lords, or hard-riding handsome
colonels, or squires of undoubted thousands, she could hardly ever be
brought to what might be called a proper hunting-field conversation.
All of which things were noted, and spoken of, and admired. It must
be presumed that Lucinda Roanoke was in want of a husband, and yet
no girl seemed to take less pains to get one. A girl ought not to be
always busying herself to bring down a man, but a girl ought to give
herself some charm. A girl so handsome as Lucinda Roanoke, with pluck
enough to ride like a bird, dignity enough for a duchess, and who was
undoubtedly clever, ought to put herself in the way of taking such
good things as her charms and merits would bring her;--but Lucinda
Roanoke stood aloof and despised everybody. So it was that Lucinda
was spoken of when her name was mentioned; and her name was mentioned
a good deal after the opening of the exhibition of pictures.

There was some difficulty about her,--as to who she was. That she was
an American was the received opinion. Her mother, as well as Mrs.
Carbuncle, had certainly been in New York. Carbuncle was a London
man; but it was supposed that Mr. Roanoke was, or had been, an
American. The received opinion was correct. Lucinda had been born
in New York, had been educated there till she was sixteen, had then
been taken to Paris for nine months, and from Paris ha