ation for my ill
humours. Few gouty old fathers make themselves as welcome as I do; eh,
Ulswater?"

"Dare I apply to myself Lord Westborough's compliment?" said the young
nobleman, advancing towards Lady Flora; and drawing his seat near her,
he entered into that whispered conversation so significant of courtship.
But there was little in Lady Flora's manner by which an experienced eye
would have detected the bride elect: no sudden blush, no downcast, yet
sidelong look, no trembling of the hand, no indistinct confusion of
the voice, struggling with unanalyzed emotions. No: all was calm, cold,
listless; her cheek changed not tint nor hue, and her words, clear
and collected, seemed to contradict whatever the low murmurs of
her betrothed might well be supposed to insinuate. But, even in his
behaviour, there was something which, had Lady Westborough been less
contented than she was with the externals and surface of manner, would
have alarmed her for her daughter. A cloud, sullen and gloomy, sat upon
his brow; and his lip alternately quivered with something like scorn,
or was compressed with a kind of stifled passion. Even in the exultation
that sparkled in his eye, when he alluded to their approaching marriage,
there was an expression that almost might have been termed fierce, and
certainly was as little like the true orthodox ardour of "gentle
swain," as Lady Flora's sad and half unconscious coldness resembled the
diffident passion of the "blushing maiden."

"You have considerably passed the time in which we expected you, my
lord," said Lady Westborough, who, as a beauty herself, was a little
jealous of the deference due to the beauty of her daughter.

"It is true.," said Lord Ulswater, glancing towards the opposite glass,
and smoothing his right eyebrow with his forefinger, "it is true, but I
could not help it. I had a great deal of business to do with my troop: I
have put them into a new manoeuvre. Do you know, my lord [turning to the
marquis], I think it very likely the soldiers may have some work on the
---- of this month?"

"Where, and wherefore?" asked Lord Westborough, whom a sudden twinge
forced into the laconic.

"At W----. Some idle fellows hold a meeting there on that day; and if I
may judge by bills and advertisements, chalkings on the walls, and, more
than all popular rumour, I have no doubt but what riot and sedition are
intended: the magistrates are terribly frightened. I hope we shall have
some cutting