connection of the deceased, invited Constance to live with her; and
Constance of course consented, for she had no alternative.

On the day that she arrived at Lady Erpingham's house, in Hill Street,
there were several persons present in the drawing-room.

"I fear, poor girl," said Lady Erpingham,--for they were talking of
Constance's expected arrival,--"I fear that she will be quite abashed by
seeing so many of us, and under such unhappy circumstances."

"How old is she?" asked a beauty.

"About thirteen, I believe."

"Handsome?"

"I have not seen her since she was seven years old. She promised then to
be very beautiful: but she was a remarkably shy, silent child."

"Miss Vernon," said the groom of the chambers, throwing open the door.

With the slow step and self-possessed air of womanhood, but with a far
haughtier and far colder mien than women commonly assume, Constance Vernon
walked through the long apartment, and greeted her future guardian.
Though every eye was on her, she did not blush; though the Queens of the
London World were round her, her gait and air were more royal than all.
Every one present experienced a revulsion of feeling. They were prepared
for pity; this was no case in which pity could be given. Even the words
of protection died on Lady Erpingham's lip, and she it was who felt
bashful and disconcerted.