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 meddle with your affair with Flora; 'tis a blooming little wild rose-bud, but of too common a species to be worth analysing. This other young creature, however, whose wings your bird-lime seems also to have entangled—"

"How so?" interrupted Sir Lyell, jumping eagerly from the counter, "what the dl do you mean by that?"

"Not to be indiscreet, I promise you," answered Sir Jaspar; "but as I see the interest she takes in you,—"

"The dl you do?" exclaimed Sir Lyell, in an accent of surprize, yet of transport.

Sir Jaspar now, ironically smiling, said, "You don't know it, then, Sir Lyell? You are modest?—diffident? unconscious?—"

"My dear boy!" cried Sir Lyell, riotously, and approaching familiarly to embrace him, "what a devilish kind office I shall owe you, if you can put any good notions into my head of that delicious girl!"