"I am sure that you were never intended, were not born, for the situation in which I find you." It was some minutes before I could sufficiently rouse myself to be aware that I ought not to remain longer where I was, and hastening to rise and thank him, I was about to leave the room, when he conjured me to stay a moment longer. I did so, and he drew from me without difficulty my whole history. He seemed greatly affected, and, after again speaking to me in an almost endearing manner, consented to my leaving him. I first hastened to my own room to endeavour to compose myself before I returned to the duchess. But that was quite out of my power, and in a state of mind which it is impossible to describe I returned to my post in her grace's dressing-room. In an instant she perceived that something unusual had occurred, from my flushed countenance and agitated manner, and she questioned me on the subject. I immediately told her of my accident, but did not dare name the marquis, and luckily, as I then thought, she did not question me further. As soon as I was again dismissed, I sought the privacy of my own chamber. This was, however, soon broken in upon by Mittonet, that "odious Frenchwoman," as the marquis called her, and I was compelled to listen to her fulsome pretended sorrow for my suffering wrist and head. At length she asked, as if accidentally, "Were you alone when you fell?" I, of course, answered her truly, though I would have given the world not to have told her. She immediately launched out into a torrent of praise of the sweet disposition of Lord St. George, and her disgust at Lady Emily Loran's behaviour to him. I could not conceive what was Mittonet's drift in all this, but I found out when too late, and also the duchess's reasons for so continually throwing me in the way of her step-son. After this accident I never met the marquis but he stopped and spoke to me with affectionate attention, and appeared to treat me like an equal. And he had many opportunities, as I was continually being sent either to the library when he was there, or left in the anteroom till he passed through. A poor girl of seventeen may be pardoned if, under such circumstances, she forgot her own humble state in the flattering and tender attentions of one so much above her. Yet, as I had never associated with any men beneath me, I did not feel so conscious of the great difference between the marquis and myself as I might otherwise have done. Be that as it may, by the time we started for London, which was nearly two months from the time I had first seen Lord St. George, I could think of nothing, dream of nothing, but him. When we arrived in town, (though I was not at that time aware of it,) the same system of throwing me as much as possible in the way of the marquis was persevered in by the duchess and her tool, Mittonet. At last I became quite miserable if a day passed in which he did not speak to me. The splendid mansion was generally full of company, and I had very little time granted me to spend with my good friend Mrs. Davies, who was the same as ever, and delighted to find me so well off and happy. Mrs. Pratt was confined to her room, with but small prospect of ever quitting it alive. I was greatly disappointed that I did not see dear Lady Eustace, but she had not yet returned from Scotland. CHAPTER XIII. "Blest were the hours in which I stray'd, I listened to his vows of love." AT the end of June the Duke of Beaulieu and his son the marquis left town for their noble seat in -shire, and were soon followed by the duchess and Lord Adolphus. Mittonet and I travelled together in a chariot, following close upon that of her grace. Beaulieu Castle is perhaps one of the noblest edifices in the kingdom. It is situated in an extensive park, adorned with the most magnificent forest-trees, and diversified with hill and dale, while a shining, brawling river, with dashing waterfalls, and a ro |