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an object of indifference, nay, of dislike, where she had so long gathered up her hopes, cruel indeed was the disappointment. In every point of view her situation was most irksome; from morning to night there was a perpetual demand upon her attention, and the slightest relaxation was sure to be visited by Lord Avonleigh's petulant reproaches. The Duke of Buckingham's suit was an additional annoyance; without ever saying enough to warrant a decided refusal, he was always at her side, trying every possible variety of flattery and amusement; but his being her lover destroyed all that might have been agreeable as an acquaintance. Francesca absolutely hated him. How often, when her thoughts were far away, did he break in upon them, and force them back to the weary realities before her! Entirely filled with the image of another, her heart, indeed, had the deaf ear of the adder, which heedeth not the voice of the charmer, charm he never so wisely. The Duke was too shrewd not to perceive that he lost, instead of gaining ground. A rival was, of course, the only solution; but who was that rival? Certainly not one in their own circle. He watched every word addressed to another—he examined every look, but all were alike cold and careless; and he soon arrived at the conclusion,