"sounds themselves did make," and Lady Anne's thoughts flew back to the Marquis. If half was true that the Count declared, he never could be persuaded that Georgiana loved him, and happy would it be if the sailor came back and took her away at once; for surely it was by no means unlikely, if she were alone, the sympathy attaching to their similar inflictions might, under existing circumstances, lead him to see that she would be much more of a suitable companion than any of her daughters—"we have known the same people, witnessed the same events, met at the courts of the same monarchs—all circumstances that tend to unite people."
"Your judgment is right," cried the male singer—"why did you not consult it before you marry little Isabella to Glentworth?—how could a girl of sixteen be the company for a man who had travelled much, seen much, felt much?—my heart bleed when I thinking of her, what she have suffer, what she must suffer."
Lady Anne had had no idea that she had spoken aloud in her reverie; but, since it was impossible to deny a fact to which the reply was so palpable, she found it a relief to turn the conversation on her youngest daughter, and, with some confusion, but quickness, replied—
"I had nothing to do with it—Isabella was really in love with Glentworth."
"That I belief, for she is so at this moment: but,
