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 before dinner; and while he stopped to make some observations on a distant prospect of the Alps to the elder ladies, she and Olivia rambled on.

"Well, my dear (said the latter when they had got a sufficient distance not to be overheard), our ball the other evening was delightful; there was only one person that appeared dejected at it; and who that person was, and why dejected, I dare say you can guess."

"Impossible," (said Madeline, while a rosy blush at the same moment declared her consciousness of the object.)

"Poor de Sevignie (resumed Olivia), expected to have met you; and, in consequence of his disappointment, neither danced, talked, or did any thing like himself the whole evening."

It was this expectation then perhaps, thought Madeline, which prevented his coming the other morning. The idea was