It was Midnite! The bewtifool Countess of BELGRAVIER sat at the hopen
winder of her Boodwar gazing on the full moon witch was jest a rising
up above the hopposite chimbleys. Why was that evenly face, that
princes had loved and Poets sillybrated, bathed in tears? How offen
had she, wile setting at that hopen winder, washed it with Oder
Colone, to remove the stanes of them tell tail tears? But all in wane,
they wood keep running down that bewtifool face as if enamelled with
its buty; and quite heedless of how they was a spiling of her new
ivory cullered sattin dress that Maddam ELISE's yung ladies had been a
workin on up to five a clock that werry arternoon.

She had bin to the great ball of the Season, to be washupped as usual
by the world of Fashun, but wot had driven her home at the hunerthly
hour of harf-parst Eleven? Ah, that cruel blo, that deadly pang, that
despairin shok, must be kep for the nex chapter.

CHAPTER II.--_THE HELOPEMEANT!_

Seated in the House-keeper's own Room at the Dook of SURREY's lovely
Manshun, playfoolly patting his fatted calves, and surrounded by his
admiring cirkle, sat CHARLES, the ero of my Tale. CHARLES was the idle
of that large establishment. They simply adored him. It was not only
his manly bewty, tho that mite have made many an Apoller envy him. It
was not only his nolledge of the world, tho in that he was sooperior
to menny a Mimber of Parlyment from the Sister Oil, but it was his
stile, his grace, his orty demeaner. The House-keeper paid him marked
attenshuns. The Ladies Maid supplyed him with Sent for his ankerchers.
The other Footmen looked up to him as their moddel, and ewen the
sollem Butler treated him with respec, and sumtimes with sumthink
else as he liked even better. The leading Gentlemen from other Doocal