to prepare for the
trip, and to regret her own resolution.

In, the recess of a window, in which bloomed a profusion of exotics, stood
the figure of Lady Marian Denbigh, playing with a half-blown rose of the
richest colors; and before her, leaning against the angle of the wall,
stood her kinsman the Duke of Derwent.

"You heard the plan at the breakfast table," said his Grace, "to visit the
little falls in the hills. But I suppose you have seen them too often to
undergo the fatigue?"

"Oh no! I love that ride dearly, and should wish to accompany the countess
in her first visit to it. I had half a mind to ask George to take me in
his phaeton."

"My curricle would be honored with the presence of Lady Marian Denbigh,"
cried the duke with animation, "if, she would accept me for her knight on
the occasion."

Marian bowed an assent, in evident satisfaction, as the duke proceeded--

"But if you take me as your knight I should wear your ladyship's colors;"
and he held out his hand towards the budding rose. Lady Marian hesitated a
moment--looked out at the prospeet--up at the wall--turned, and wondered
where her brother was; and still finding the hand of the duke extended,
while his eye rested on her in admiration, she gave him the boon with a
cheek that vied with the richest tints of the flower. They separated to
prepare, and it was on their return from the falls that the duke seemed
uncommonly gay and amusing, and the lady silent with her tongue, though
her eyes danced in every direction but towards her cousin.

"Really, my dear Lady Mosely," said the dowager, as, seated by the side of
her companion, her eyes roved over the magnificence within, and widely
extended domains without--"Emily is well established indeed--better
even than my Grace."

"Grace has an affectionate husband," replied the other, gravely, "and one
that I hope will make her happy."

"Oh! no doubt happy!" said Lady Chatterton, hastily: "but they say Emily
has a jointure of twelve thousand a year--by-the-by," she added, in a low
tone, though no one was near enough to hear what she said, "could not the
earl have settled Lumley: Castle on her instead of the deanery?"

"Upon my word I never think of such gloomy subjects as provisions for
widowhood," cried Lady Mosely: "you have been in Annerdale House--is it
not a princely mansion?"

"Princely, indeed," rejoined the dowager, sighing: "don't the earl intend
increasing the rents of this estate as the le