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from habit, I don't like it; it bores me. And yet," after a pause, he added, "I feel to-night as if I were going to have an attack of it again."

"You speak as if it was an illness," said Isabel, laughing.

"It is an illness-a downright fever, when the fit is on. I will show you all the symptoms of the disease some day, when I know you better."

"Do you see any bad symptoms in my case?” said Isabel, trying to make herself feel at ease with him, in which she could not quite succeed.

He looked at her with a look of grave scrutiny, then shook his head. "No, strange to say, I think you have entirely escaped! There is a very bad case, I'm sure, though I don't know her;" and he pointed to a pretty young girl, who stood at some distance, eagerly talking to three or four people at once. "I laugh now, and moralize a great deal about it," he continued, after a moment, "and am very apt to forget that I once had

the disease as badly as, if not worse than, my

neighbours."

The music stopped, and they returned to Mrs. Denison.

CHAPTER XI.

How happily the days of Thalaba went by!

SOUTHEY.

On the evening of that first day's acquaintance with Clarence, when Isabel sate alone in her room, there was a weight upon her conscience-an undefined fear-that she had enjoyed herself too much, and Herbert's eyes seemed to rest reproachfully upon her. But this was the first, and last, and only time that she was visited by such a reproof; the intimate and familiar terms on which, after this day, she lived with Lord Clarence, while, in fact, increasing tenfold her danger, destroyed all fear of it in her mind.

Both Mr. and Mrs. Denison liked Lord Clarence; and being such near relations, and his own family coming rarely to London, Mr.

Denison gave him a general invitation to his house, and the young man, though he did not presume upon this kindness, yet was not slow to avail himself of it when it was offered. At dinner, especially, they often met. Sometimes Mr. Denison brought him home with him from the House of Commons; sometimes he dined with them before a crowded ball, that he might be of use to Emmeline; in short, a day seldom passed that they did not somewhere meet, and the very excess of her danger utterly blinded Isabel's eyes. Many things aided her delusion; Clarence's manners were frank and open, sometimes affectionate, but rarely empressé. He never complimented; and, after their first meeting, never said anything which gave the idea that he thought of her, or marked her out with any particular preference. They were very great friends; Isabel liked to think that he was what a brother would have been to her.

The fact was that, although, from the very first day, Clarence was conscious of a new feeling in his own mind, he kept a strict watch

upon himself. There was no hurry. He would not lightly try to gain her affections; he would not lightly yield his own; he would read the very depths of her heart before he spoke. And she, if he could be so happy as to gain her love, she should not choose him in darkness and in ignorance; but her choice should be made from the world and before the world.

This reasonable determination it was not difficult to follow, as no rival appeared; that is to say, no favoured rival. Many there were who hovered about the beautiful heiress day after day, who would have given the world for a sign of encouragement from her; but, while her beauty attracted them, there was a retenu and a dignity in her manners which prevented the slightest approach to a flirtation, and even a lover's wayward heart could not have doubted that to Clarence, however slight that preference might be, the preference was given.

Everything conspired against poor Isabel's heart. If Mr. and Mrs. Denison saw the danger, they approved it. It might be in

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