Denbigh Castle a fortnight since, and
writes he is to meet his friend, the duke, at Bath."

"Are you connected with his grace, Mr. Denbigh?" asked Lady Moseley.

A smile of indefinite meaning played on the expressive face of Denbigh, as
he answered slightly--

"On the side of my father, madam."

"He has a sister," continued Lady Moseley, willing to know more of
Chatterton's friends and Denbigh's relatives.

"He has," was the brief reply.

"Her name is Harriet," observed Mrs. Wilson. Denbigh bowed his assent in
silence, and Emily timidly added--

"Lady Harriet Denbigh?"

"Lady Harriet Denbigh--will you do me the favor to take wine?"

The manner of the gentleman during this dialogue had not been in the least
unpleasant, but it was peculiar; it prohibited anything further on the
subject; and Emily was obliged to be content without knowing who Marian
was, or whether her name was to be found in the Denbigh family or not.
Emily was not in the least jealous, but she wished to know all to whom her
lover was dear.

"Do the Dowager and the young ladies accompany Chatterton?" asked Sir
Edward, as he turned to John, who was eating his fruit in silence.

"Yes, sir--I hope--that is, I believe she will," was the answer.

"She! Who is she, my son?"

"Grace Chatterton," said John, starting from his meditations. "Did you not
ask me about Grace, Sir Edward?"

"Not particularly, I believe," said the baronet, dryly.

Denbigh again smiled: it was a smile different from any Mrs. Wilson had
ever seen on his countenance, and gave an entirely novel expression to his
face; it was full of meaning it was knowing--spoke more of the man of the
world than anything she had before noticed in him, and left on her mind
one of those vague impressions she was often troubled with, that there was
something about Denbigh in character or condition, or both, that was
mysterious.

The spirit of Jane was too great to leave her a pining or pensive maiden;
yet her feelings had sustained a shock that time alone could cure. She
appeared again amongst her friends; but the consciousness of her
expectations with respect to the colonel being known to them, threw around
her a hauteur and distance very foreign to her natural manner. Emily
alone, whose every movement sprang from the spontaneous feelings of her
heart, and whose words and actions were influenced by the finest and most
affectionate delicacy, such as she was not conscious of possessing
herse