took Ferdinand's arm and retired.

Captain Armine returned to his mother and cousin, and sat an hour with
them, until their carriage was announced. Just as he was going away, he
observed Lady Bellair's little red book, which she had left behind.

'Poor Lady Bellair, what will she do?' said Miss Grandison; 'we must
take it to her immediately.'

'I will leave it,' said Ferdinand, 'I shall pass her house.'

Bellair House was the prettiest mansion in May Fair. It was a long
building, in the Italian style, situate in the midst of gardens, which,
though not very extensive, were laid out with so much art and taste,
that it was very difficult to believe that you were in a great city.
The house was furnished and adorned with all that taste for which Lady
Bellair was distinguished. All the reception rooms were on the ground
floor, and were all connected. Ferdinand, who remembered Lady Bellair's
injunctions not to leave cards, attracted by the spot, and not knowing
what to do with himself, determined to pay her ladyship a visit, and was
ushered into an octagon library, lined with well-laden dwarf cases of
brilliant volumes, crowned with no lack of marble busts, bronzes, and
Etruscan vases. On each side opened a magnificent saloon, furnished in
that classic style which the late accomplished and ingenious Mr. Hope
first rendered popular in this country. The wings, projecting far into
the gardens, comprised respectively a dining-room and a conservatory of
considerable dimensions. Isolated in the midst of the gardens was a
long building, called the summer-room, lined with Indian matting, and
screened on one side from the air merely by Venetian blinds. The walls
of this chamber were almost entirely covered with caricatures, and
prints of the country seats of Lady Bellair's friends, all of which
she took care to visit. Here also were her parrots, and some birds of a
sweeter voice, a monkey, and the famous squirrel.

Lady Bellair was seated in a chair, the back of which was much higher
than her head; at her side was a little table with writing materials,
on which also was placed a magnificent bell, by Benvenuto Cellini, with
which her ladyship summoned her page, who, in the meantime, loitered in
the hall.

'You have brought me my book!' she exclaimed, as Ferdinand entered with
the mystical volume. 'Give it me, give it me. Here I cannot tell Mrs.
Fancourt what day I can dine with her. I am engaged all this week and
all next, and I