"A very beautiful gem, a sleeping Cupid," he answered.

"How could the child have obtained it?" said Harriet.

"I can tell you," said the Major. "From old Belamour. My Lady was
laughing about it. The little puss has revived the embers of gallantry
in our poor recluse. Says she, 'He has actually presented her with a
ring, nay, a ring bearing Love himself.'"

Somehow the speech, even at second hand, jarred upon Betty, but her
father was delighted with my Lady's description of his favourite, and
the letters were full of contentment. When the two sisters, arrayed
in their stiffest silks, went up to pay their respects to my Lady
the next afternoon, their reception was equally warm. My Lady was
more caressing to her old acquaintance, Betty, than that discreet
personage quite liked, while she complimented and congratulated
Harriet on her lover, laughing at her bashful disclaimers in such a
charmingly teasing fashion as quite to win the damsel's heart, and
convince her that all censure of Lady Belamour was vile slander. The
children were sent for, and Amoret was called on to show how Cousin
Aurelia had taught her to dance, sing and recite. The tiny minuet
performed by her and Archer was an exceedingly pretty exhibition as
far as it went, but the boy had no patience to conclude, and jumped
off into an extemporary _pas seul_, which was still prettier, and as
Amoret was sole exhibitor of the repetition of Hay's "Hare and many
friends," he became turbulent after the first four lines, and put a
stop to the whole.

Then came in a tall, large, handsome, dashing-looking man, with the