his brother, who walked up and down the hall, sipping his coffee at intervals, and having very much the air of a soldier who would retreat if he could.
Any great change is like cold water in winter—one shrinks from the first plunge; and a lover may be excused who shivers a little at the transmigration into a husband. It is a different case with the lady—she has always been brought up with the idea of being married—moreover, she must be very much taken up with her blonde—and, to conclude, a woman gains her liberty, but a man loses his.
Edward was the only one of the party sufficiently unoccupied to appreciate the propriety and the picturesque of the scene. Lord Lauriston, watching his lady in evident trepidation lest his conduct should not meet her approbation—Lord Merton, obviously tired of the forms, but subsiding into patience as he met his mother's eye—Mr. Stanbury, with a face full of congratulations and a mouth full of jokes, all equally checked by Lady Lauriston's glance—she, all dignified quiet, only touched by a most maternal sadness at parting with her daughter—and the daughter herself, no-
