and third rate set of a great watering-place,--the attendant, the flirt,
and often the ridicule of the daughter of an obscure and almost
insignificant country squire. Despite the honour of so distinguished a
lover, and despite all the novelties of her situation, the pretty head of
Lucy Brandon was as yet, however, perfectly unturned; and as for her
heart, the only impression that it had ever received was made by that
wandering guest of the village rector, whom she had never again seen, but
who yet clung to her imagination, invested not only with all the graces
which in right of a singularly handsome person he possessed, but with
those to which he never could advance a claim,--more dangerous to her
peace, for the very circumstance of their origin in her fancy, not his
merits.

They had now been some little time at Bath, and Brandon's brief respite
was pretty nearly expired, when a public ball of uncommon and manifold
attraction was announced. It was to be graced not only by the presence
of all the surrounding families, but also by that of royalty itself; it
being an acknowledged fact that people dance much better and eat much
more supper when any relation to a king is present.

"I must stay for this ball, Lucy," said Brandon, who, after spending the
day with Lord Mauleverer, returned home in a mood more than usually
cheerful,--"I must stay for this one ball, Lucy, and witness your
complete triumph, even though it will be necessary to leave you the very
next morning."

"So soon!" cried Lucy.

"So soon!" echoed the uncle, with a smile. "How good you are to speak
thus to an old valetudinarian, whose company must have fatigued you to