"Oh! she will he very sorry, I dare say," said Miss Monimia tartly,
tying the strings of her bonnet, which had again fallen back and shown
her beautiful ringlets.

"I wish the flowers were better," continued Frank; "and at some future
time, I trust"--

"Oh, the flowers are good enough!" said the young lady. "I think the moss
rose is Charles Lambert's favourite, so I have gathered this bunch for
him."

You would scarcely have known the cold-voiced, calm-eyed Miss Monimia,
to be the playful, graceful hoyden of five minutes before. She made
Frank a stately curtsy, and, without farther parley, he hurried down to
the village, and ordered the solitary post-chaise of which the Rose and
Crown could boast.

"Stay you here," he said to Mr Percy Marvale, "and I will join you in
two days if any thing occurs. We may be disappointed again, though the
present intelligence seems authentic."

The intelligence which so suddenly altered the destination of Miss
Monimia Smith's nosegay, was from one of Frank's Leicestershire
correspondents; and was to the effect, that Alice had gone into a
situation in the little village of Wibbleton, where she had been
securely hidden from all her lover's pursuits for half a year.
Wibbelton, he found, was fifteen miles from Bandvale, on the Birmingham
road, and merrily away he trotted as fast as the two posters could go.

The news, the air, the motion, that had such an exhilirating effect on