Lady Martindale, who watched his very look, now bit her lip, and Seymour did not look pleased. My mother owned afterwards, that what with pinching Lord Charles's arm, to see how Lord and Lady Martindale both were confused by the first part of his speech, and squeezing it affectionately from delight at the last, she is very sure Lord Charles carried her marks with him to London. I too could scarcely keep the grateful tears from flowing down my cheeks, which his well timed kindness brought into my eyes: but I saw that my expression was not lost upon him.

Seymour led Lady Martindale to the head of the supper table, and Lord Charles on account of his rank was forced to sit next her.

"Painful pre-eminence!" he whispered to my mother, who, as I was one of the queens of the night, insisted on my taking her place on the other side. Lord Martindale seated himself next me; and Seymour took the seat vacant by Lady Martindale. As Lord Charles scarcely noticed her, except as far as civility commanded, Lady Martindale soon turned her back on him, and Seymour and she seemed to forget any one else was present.

Lord Charles endeavoured by the most unremitting attentions to conceal from me what must, he knew, distress me. But he could not do it: I heard every whisper of their softened voices, and I dare say my uneasy countenance was a complete and whimsical contrast to that of Lord Martindale, who seemed perfectly easy under circumstances which would have distressed most men, and talked and laughed with every one in his turn.

The Lord and Lady of the feast, who were never tired of exhibitions, now began their usual demands on the talents of their guests, and were importunate in soliciting several of them to sing, a custom which I usually think "more honoured in the breach than the observance;" but on this occasion it was welcome to me, especially as I knew that it must for a time interrupt Seymour's attention to Lady Martindale. But as the hypochondriac, when he reads a book on diseases, always finds his own symptoms in every case before him, so I in the then existing state of my feelings always brought home every thing I heard or read to my own heart; and two of the songs which were sung that night accorded so well with my own state of mind, that I felt the tears come into my eyes as I listened; and during the following one Pendarves sighed so audibly, that I imagined he felt great sympathy with the sentiments; and that idea increased my suffering:—

SONG.
O that I could recall the day
When all my hours to thee were given,
And, as I gazed my soul away,
Thou wert my treasure, world, and heaven!
Then time on noiseless pinions flew,
And life like one bright morning beam'd:
Then love around us roses threw,
Which ever fresh and fragrant seem'd.
And are these moments gone for ever?
And can they ne'er return? No never.
For oh! that cruel traitor Time,
Although he might unheeded move,
Bore off our youth's luxuriant prime,
And also stole the bloom of love.
Yet still the thought of raptures past
Shall gild life's dull remaining store,
As sinking suns a splendour cast
On scenes their presence lights no more.
But are those raptures gone for ever?
And will they ne'er return? No never.

The other song was only in unison with my feelings in the last lines of the last verse. Still, while my morbid fancy made me consider them as the expression of my own sentiments, I listened with such a tell-tale countenance, that my delicacy was wounded; for I saw that my emotion was visible to those who sat opposite to me.

The song was as follows:—

FAIREST, SWEETEST, DEAREST,

A SONG.
"Say, by what name can I impart
My sense, dear girl, of what thou art?
Nay, though to frown thou darest,
I'll say thou art of girls the pride:
And though that modest lip may chide,
Mary! I'll call thee 'fairest.'
"Yet no—that word can but express
The soft and winning loveliness
In which the sight thou meetest.
But not thy heart, thy temper too,
So good, so sweet—Ha! that will do!
Mary! I'll call thee 'sweetest.'
"But 'fairest, sweetest,' vain would be
To speak the love I feel for thee:
Why smilest thou as thou hearest?"
"Because," she cried, "one little name
Is all I wish from thee to claim—
That precious name is 'dearest.'"