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beautiful Miss Walpole was allowed to emerge from the seclusion of Houghton, where she had been wasting her sweetness on the desert air for the last two years. Very lovely, and very simple-minded, she was allowed more of her own way than it is ever good for a woman to have. Engrossed in politics, her brother left her almost entirely to her own amusements and fancies. Unfortunately, she was induced to accept an invitation to stay at Lord Wharton's, a man notorious for what are so strangely misnamed gallantries, and whose Lady was as bad as himself. She had scarcely reached the place before, also, her intended visit reached Sir Robert's ears. With him, a resolution aways carried itself into action with all possible rapidity: he ordered post horses to his carriage, and went himself as courier to precede it. Making no excuses, and listening to none, he insisted on his sister's immediate appearance and departure, and sent her off next day into Norfolk. Fortune, however, to-night seemed resolved on making full amends to a beauty cut short in the first flush of success, and