suit of Mauleverer; to cultivate society, as before; and above all, not
to alarm Lucy, who evidently did not yet favour Mauleverer exclusively,
by hinting to her the hopes and expectations of her uncle and father.
Brandon, now taking leave of his brother, mounted to the drawing-room in
search of Lucy. He found her leaning over the gilt cage of one of her
feathered favourites, and speaking to the little inmate in that pretty
and playful language in which all thoughts, innocent yet fond, should be
clothed. So beautiful did Lucy seem, as she was thus engaged in her
girlish and caressing employment, and so utterly unlike one meet to be
the instrument of ambitious designs, and the sacrifice of worldly
calculations, that Brandon paused, suddenly smitten at heart, as he
beheld her. He was not, however, slow in recovering himself; he
approached. "Happy he," said the man of the world, "for whom caresses
and words like these are reserved!"

Lucy turned. "It is ill!" she said, pointing to the bird, which sat with
its feathers stiff and erect, mute and heedless even of that voice which
was as musical as its own.

"Poor prisoner!" said Brandon; "even gilt cages and sweet tones cannot
compensate to thee for the loss of the air and the wild woods!"

"But," said Lucy, anxiously, "it is not confinement which makes it ill!
If you think so, I will release it instantly."

"How long have you had it?" asked Brandon.

"For three years!" said Lucy. "And is it your chief favourite?"

"Yes; it does not sing so prettily as the other, but it is far more