THREE HOURS ON THE DIAL OF A RHAPSODIST. 225

“You are right—I think so too. Now, would you believeit, even that sweet face, those dovelike eyes, thrill me withhorror : I see their tenderness lavished upon another, not herhusband ! I watch him heart-broken, bowed, prematurely old,while she! —your Agna Casta !—sinks lower ! lower !”

“Pshaw! you are hipped—melancholy—and are giving utter-ance to mere rhodomontade. Come! I am going to theDuchess of Beaulieu’s box, and shall not leave you while youare in this state, lest the next thing I should hear of you shouldbe before a Commission of Lunacy.”

“ Ah, well! you deserve all my thanks, for charming meout of my fantasies, if you like to deem them so. I will ac-company you,— as well there, as anywhere else. Stay, youknow Mrs. Greville ?”

“ The dowager ?”

“No; the one in Park Lane. Introduce me there; she andher daughter are both here to-night.”

“ Indeed ! I did not know she had a daughter out. Comealong.”

The box-door opened, and Leila and her friend beheldthe young aristocrat and his companion enter. Mrs. Grevillewoke up from her nap to commence a lively conversation withher young kinsman, while De Grey seated himself, after a pri-mary introduction, between the two girls. There was somethingwhich not only placed his companions at once almost upon thefooting of old acquaintance, but so irresistibly winning in hismanner, that Iva thought she had never enjoyed a chat fraughtwith more interest and pleasure. De Grey possessed the rarefacility of eliciting the very topics which he seemed intuitivelyto know were interesting to each individual; and if a com-panion had one string of thought to play on, the touch of hisquestioning soon awoke its harmony.

Once, Leila left her side for a moment.

Q