pliment but one, and that was in his mild, .whispering way. Mrs. O'Carolan,' says he, youth and beauty like yours'-yes, that was the word-youth and beauty, like yours, was not made to mourn for ever.' Poor man! he little knew my heart. But it's aisy to put him off, for he's not like your lounging, saucy, staring beaux, that you can see, at the first look, has a design on you; but, to the contrary, so proper, and polite, and respectful, and insinuating!"

Geraldine sighed, for Mrs. O'Carolan had, unconsciously, hit upon the exact word that described sir Charles Southwell's usual mode of attack. To divert the conversation from a disagreeable subject, she asked her companion what she thought of the performance, which was, in fact, contemptible enough.

Mrs. O'Carolan, who did not exactly know how much a young lady of Miss Geraldine Southwell's acknowledged taste would expect her to be delighted, replied,

with a look and accent of rapture, that she was "beatified;" and immediately

added, in a still more sentimental tone"For, as my dear dead antiquity used to say, there's not a greater trate to the olfactory organs than a well-executed consort of instrumental singing.' But what's that she's beginning about now?" continued the lady, designated in the concertbill an Italian air, the words of which she could not understand.

Geraldine explained to her that it was a recitative and aria in the character of Dido; and with a few more explanations, Mrs. O'Carolan was enabled to make her own remarks." Well done, Dowdy! Dowdy is it? No, Dido. Though you are but a slieveen sort of a looking queen after all, with your hair streeling, it's plain enough you're crossed in love." She now turned to Geraldine for further explanation.

The singer was come to some lines in which she reproached herself for forget

ting

ting her first contract, and invoked the injured shade of her husband Sichæus."So you want to have him back again, d'ye?-oh! that indeed! I'm glad you've the dacency to be ashamed of yourself for forgetting poor Sykes. Constant to Enaas! no, no, never tell me that! them that marries twice would marry a hundred times, say I, as I told Mr. Stratford Gore when he lost his dear lady."

"Mrs. Gore! is she dead?" exclaimed Mrs. Rainsford, turning round to join in the conversation; for Mrs. Stratford Gore had been one of those stars of fashion to which Mrs. Rainsford had looked up, the preceding winter, in humble admiration.

Bless me!" cried Mrs. O'Carolan, "didn't you know that Mr. Stratford Gore had buried his wife?" And then, one lady being equally desirous to have a hearer as the other was to become a listener, she entered into a particular detail of the circumstances of Mrs. Gore's illness, which originated in a cold she caught,

while imprudently exposing herself to the night-air, in pursuance of some of her poetical abstractions." She said she caught it planning an invitation to Vesperus : now who Vesperus was I never could learn; but I know it's not worth catching one's death of cold for the best man that ever wore a head-now is it, Mrs. Rainsford? And so I told Mr. Gore, who's not quite inconsolable; and they do say

Here Mrs. O'Carolan was proceeding to have communicated a very important piece of intelligence, but it was totally put out of her head by the sudden approach of a very splendid-looking stranger, and Geraldine was doomed not to hear what they did say" till a considerable time afterwards.

The striking personage who had joined their party was no other than lord O'Melvyl. In a low voice, he bitterly lamented to Geraldine his not being released to attend her sooner, and advised her, as there

would

would probably be some difficulty in getting out at the end, to induce Mrs. Rainsford to think of departure. The lady readily took the hint, and the widow O'Carolan whipt her shawl off the bench, and prepared to go out with them.

Several parties were beginning to move. There was a difficulty in passing over some benches that were awkwardly placed as they went out of the concert-room. Lord O'Melvyl offered his assistance to the fair widow." No, sir, take care of Miss Southwell, who seems frightened," she replied; "I'll slidder down well enough by myself."

"Where did you pick up that Belle Sauvage?" said lord O'Melvyl, in a whisper, to Geraldine.

Before she was able to reply, his lordship had gone, at the request of Mrs. Rainsford (very proud of such a cavaliere servente), to gain tidings of her carriage. While waiting his return, the three ladies took possession of a recess in a wait