be supposed that a first
passion in a bosom like that of our heroine was to be suddenly erased and
to leave no vestiges of its existence.

Her partiality for the society of Derwent, her meditations in which she
sometimes detected herself drawing a picture of what Denbigh might have
been, if early care had been taken to impress him with his situation in
this world, and from which she generally retired to her closet and her
knees, were the remains of feelings too strong and too pure to be torn
from her in a moment.

The arrival of John, with Grace and Jane, enlivened not only the family
but the neighborhood. Mr. Haughton and his numerous friends poured in on
the young couple with their congratulations, and a few weeks stole by
insensibly, previously to the commencement of the journeys of Sir Edward
and his son--the one to Benfield Lodge and the other to St. James's
Square.

On the return of the travellers, a few days before they commenced their
journey to the capital, John laughingly told his uncle that, although he
himself greatly admired the taste of Mr. Peter Johnson in dress, yet he
doubted whether the present style of fashions in the metropolis would not
be scandalized by the appearance of the honest steward.

John had in fact noticed, in their former visit to London, mob of
mischievous boys eyeing Peter with indications of rebellious movements
which threatened the old man, and from which he had retreated by taking a
coach, and he now made the suggestion from pure good-nature, to save him
any future trouble from a similar cause.

They were at dinner when Moseley made the remark, and the steward was in
his place at the sideboard--for his master was his home. Drawing near at
the mention of his name first, and casting an eye over his figure to see
if all was decent, Peter respectfully broke silence, determined to defend
his own cause.

"Why! Mr. John--Mr. John Moseley? if I might judge, for an elderly man,
and a serving man," said the steward, bowing humbly, "I am no
disparagement to my friends, or even to my honored master."

Johnson's vindication of his wardrobe drew the eyes of the family upon
him, and an involuntary smile passed from one to the other, as they
admired his starched figure and drab frock, or rather doublet with sleeves
and skirts. Sir Edward, being of the same opinion with his son, observed--

"I do think, Uncle Benfield, there might be an improvement in the dress of
your steward without much