to the drawing-room, he could not
venture on the step. He longed to speak to Glastonbury on the subject
which engrossed his thoughts, but he had not courage. Never did a man,
who really believed himself the happiest and most fortunate person in
the world, ever feel more awkward and more embarrassed. Was his father
aware of what had occurred? He could not decide. Apparently, Henrietta
imagined that his mother did, by the observation which she had made at
dinner. Then his father must be conscious of everything. Katherine must
have told all. Were Lord Montfort's family in the secret? But what use
were these perplexing enquiries? It was certain that Henrietta was to
be his bride, and that Mr. Temple had sanctioned their alliance. There
could be no doubt of that, or why was he there?

At length the gentlemen rose, and Ferdinand once more beheld Henrietta
Temple. As he entered, she was crossing the room with some music in her
hand, she was a moment alone. He stopped, he would have spoken, but his
lips would not move.

'Well,' she said, 'are you happy?'

'My head wanders. Assure me that it is all true,' he murmured in an
agitated voice.

'It is all true; there, go and speak to Lady Armine. I am as nervous as
you are.'

Ferdinand seated himself by his mother.

'Well, Ferdinand,' she said, 'I have heard wonderful things.'

'And I hope they have made you happy, mother?'

'I should, indeed, be both unreasonable and ungrateful if they did not;
but I confess to you, my dear child, I am even as much astonished as
gratified.'

'And my father, he knows everything?'

'Everything. But we have heard it only from Lord Montfort and Katherine.
We have had no communication with anyone else. And we meet here to-day
in this extraordinary manner, and but for them we should be completely
in the dark.'

'And the duchess; do they know all?'

'I conclude so.'

''Tis very strange, is it not?'

'I am quite bewildered.'

'O mother! is she not beautiful? Do you not love her? Shall we not all
be the happiest family in the world?'

'I think we ought to be, dear Ferdinand. But I have not recovered from
my astonishment. Ah, my child, why did you not tell me when you were
ill?'

'Is it not for the best that affairs should have taken the course they
have done? But you must blame Kate as well as me; dear Kate!'

'I think of her,' said Lady Armine; 'I hope Kate will be happy.'

'She must be, dear mother; only think what an excellent p