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 courtiser la belle Pauline. Now, Lady Portmore, are you satisfied?"

"Yes, but not at all surprised. I remember Reid applauded her so in that stupid ballet, 'Rose d'Amour,' that I said he must be in love with her. Mary, you were with me that night; you must remember it."

"Was I?" said Mary, with an air of doubt; "I do not recollect"

"Oh, but I did indeed; I always foresee these things. I am so glad I persuaded Reginald Stuart to come here, out of the way of that girl. Mary, my love," she said, lowering her voice, and affecting great interest of manner, "have you a headache? you look pale this morning."

"Oh no, pray don't have the headache, Mary," said Helen, indignant at this instance of Lady Portmore's want of tact. "I beg that both my young ladies," she added, smiling at Eliza, "will look their very best, for there will be a large party to amuse, to say nothing of Colonel Stuart."

"I can promise to take some of that trouble off your hands, young ladies," said Lady Portmore, in a tone of pique. "Colonel Stuart comes on my invitation." It was an unlucky morning for her. She had been vexed by the total failure of her letters and her news; and when her vanity was in a state of mortification, she became more than usually untact. She complimented Helen on her dress, and asked if it were Teviot's taste—"but I am sure it is, for he used to complain of your style of dress as too simple before he knew you well, so I must congratulate you on the improvements he has made: you are tirée à quatre épingles this morning." This pleasant speech made three people uncomfortable. Helen did not like to hear that Lord Teviot had ever found fault with her,—Lady Eskdale was hurt that it was supposed she had dressed her daughter ill,—and Lord Teviot did not choose it to be supposed that he had made Lady Portmore his confidante, and that on the