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Lady Charlotte's consciousness that they did not exist, or for the

purpose of keeping the object of them in good humour, as a froward child is bribed to behave well in company. In all their driving or riding parties Lady Charlotte laid claim to Mr. Willoughby, while she would consign Isabella to Mr. Dunston, with “do, dear Isabella, accompany Mr. Dunston, you are such a favourite with him!” - but Isabella would not be so consigned; and there were others who would have disputed the consignment, had she been willing to have submitted to it. There was the young and mirthful Burghley, the companion of her childhood, the nephew and heir to her never-failing friend Lord Burghley ; — there was Sir Charles Seymour, the well-bred, the fashionable Sir Charles Seymour; whose civilities, always wellplaced, were never obtrusive; who outraged no decorum, affected no superiority, was at the disposal of every body, and passed for the best-tempered and most obliging person in the world. With such aids-de-camp Isabella found no difficulty in eluding the awkward attempts of Mr. Dunston to establish himself as her professed attendant. She had always to plead a prior engagement to Sir Charles Seymour; or some wild trick of the boyish Burghley threw him so intirely out of his play, that, as he sometimes observed, with mingled resentment and surprise, “Mrs. Willoughby had never, no not once, tried his curricle, though he might say, without a boast, that it was the first curricle going, and so said his friend the Duke ; and Lord L. absolutely could not conjecture how he could get such a one : nobody else had any thing like it ;'-- and no doubt that was the simple truth; for

nobody but himself knew how to give proper directions about such things; few people indeed would or could go to the expence necessary to have such a complete thing ;—if Mrs. Willoughby would but once try it, she would soon see the difference; for, certainly, though every thing that Mr. Willoughby had was elegant, fashionable, and dashing enough, the ease of the thing was what he did not understand, indeed he might repeat it, that nobody did but himself.”

Happy Lady Charlotte !" cried Burghley, in a tone which made Lady Charlotte frown, and every body else laugh.

But although Lady Charlotte had the mortification to see that Mr. Dunstan was more truly appreciated by her simple cousin than she had hoped might have been the case, and that, still worse, this cousin was also more

highly estimated by others than her invidious praises, and the air of protecting superiority which she assumed towards her, were likely to have allowed, yet she was sufficiently successful in drawing almost the whole of Mr. Willoughby's attention to herself. The field was, indeed, entirely open to her. Isabella was, by all the laws of fashion and hospitality, quite out of the question; and her sisters were the sisters of Mr. Willoughby also; so that, farther than, “Pray, Burghley, take care of Isabella, “ George, you must be Harriet's beau," it could not be expected that his gallantry would extend in that direction. And thus, as Lady Charlotte was left the undisputed property of Mr. Willoughby in every morning excursion, so she became the paramount object of his care, that the evenings should pass in the

way most agreeable


to her. A word from her decided between music, dancing, or cards. The latter she usually left to those whom she designated as invalids; amongst which number her husband was invariably one. “ Heaven knows," would she say, “ he has no music in his soul.” “ His knowledge in that delicious science was not one of the good parts or which she suffered love for him." “It was a treat to her to sing and play to one who could understand her." She seized therefore generally on the instrument, and calling Mr. Willoughby to her side, sometimes employing him in turning over the leaves of the music-book, and sometimes inducing him to join his voice to hers, she would keep possession of him for hours. In vain would Mr. Burghley declare that Isabella could sing the song better, or Sir Charles Seymour gently inquire, if there were not an

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