most delicately carved. I never remember having observed an
expression of such beautiful serenity. The discovery that, after all,
they are male countenances is quite mortifying. I loved their mysterious
beauty.'

What Lord Montfort had mentioned of the previous acquaintance of
Henrietta and her cousin made Miss Grandison muse. Miss Temple's
address to Ferdinand yesterday had struck her at the moment as somewhat
singular; but the impression had not dwelt upon her mind. But now it
occurred to her as very strange, that Henrietta should have become so
intimate with the Armine family and herself, and never have mentioned
that she was previously acquainted with their nearest relative. Lady
Armine was not acquainted with Miss Temple until they met at Bellair
House. That was certain. Miss Grandison had witnessed their mutual
introduction. Nor Sir Ratcliffe. And yet Henrietta and Ferdinand were
friends, warm friends, old friends, intimately acquainted: so said Lord
Montfort, and Lord Montfort never coloured, never exaggerated. All
this was very mysterious. And if they were friends, old friends, warm
friends, and Lord Montfort said they were, and, therefore, there could
be no doubt of the truth of the statement, their recognition of each
other yesterday was singularly frigid.

It was not indicative of a very intimate acquaintance. Katherine had
ascribed it to the natural disrelish of Ferdinand now to be introduced
to anyone. And yet they were friends, old friends, warm friends.
Henrietta Temple and Ferdinand Armine! Miss Grandison was so perplexed
that she scarcely looked at another object in the galleries.

The ladies were rather tired when they returned from the Museum. Lord
Montfort walked to the Travellers, and Henrietta agreed to remain and
dine in Brook-street. Katherine and herself retired to Miss Grandison's
boudoir, a pretty chamber, where they were sure of being alone.
Henrietta threw herself upon a sofa, and took up the last new novel;
Miss Grandison seated herself on an ottoman by her side, and worked at a
purse which she was making for Mr. Temple.

'Do you like that book?' said Katherine.

'I like the lively parts, but not the serious ones,' replied Miss
Temple; 'the author has observed but he has not felt.'

'It is satirical,' said Miss Grandison; 'I wonder why all this class of
writers aim now at the sarcastic. I do not find life the constant sneer
they make it.'

'It is because they do not understand life