oO THE MASTER OF THE HOUNDS. 



Conyers now came up with "Well, ladies, all's well that 

 ends well; and, now that we are all friends again, I may just 

 tell you what detained us so long in the dining-room " — which 

 he did as shortly as possible, speaking in high terms of Beau- 

 champ's cool and gentlemanly conduct. 



" Then there is to be no duel to-morrow ? " inquired Mrs. 

 Gordon, anxiously. 



" None, my dear madam, I assure you ; everything is ami- 

 cably settled ; and, instead of fighting, Will has accepted an 

 invitation to breakfast with Lord Mervyn on this day month/ 1 



" Are you not deceiving me, Mr. Conyers ? " 



" No, on my honour, Mrs. Gordon ; and to satisfy you still 

 further, I will send Beauchamp here directly, to show you the 

 entry in his pocket-book." 



As Beauchamp approached them, the colour suddenly re- 

 turned to Miss Douglas's face, suffusing her cheeks and brow, 

 which, not unnoticed bv Mrs. Gordon, revealed to her a secret 

 unknown to Blanche herself until that moment, that she loved 

 William Beauchamp. She had long looked upon him as a dear 

 friend, but had hitherto remained totally unconscious of any 

 deeper feeling towards him, when the sudden revelation made 

 by Captain Markham of his life, perhaps, being at stake, sent a 

 thrilling, suffocating sensation circling round her heart, to which 

 she had hitherto been a stranger. Her ill-concealed trepidation 

 at his approach delightfully confirmed Mrs. Gordon in her long- 

 indulged hopes that William Beauchamp might become the 

 object of her niece's choice. 



" William," exclaimed Mrs. Gordon, as he stood before her, 

 " I have sent for you to hear an account from your own lips of 

 this unpleasant fracas with Lord Mervyn, whom, I am told, it 

 was your intention to challenge to-morrow morning." 



For a moment Blanche's face was raised to his to scan his 

 looks. Their eyes met, and by that quick, hurried glance, 

 Beauchamp seemed entranced, riveted to the spot ; for a 

 moment the fall spell of fascination was upon him, as he gazed 

 in silent surprise on the varying colour and trembling form of 

 Blanche Douglas. 



" William ! " suddenly exclaimed Mrs. Gordon, in a sharp 

 tone, " what ails you to-night % — are you tipsy or crazy ? '' 



" Neither tipsy nor crazy, dear Mrs. Gordon ; but a fit of 

 abstraction seized me ; my thoughts were wandering ; pray 

 forgive me." 



" A pretty confession, Mr. William, in the presence of three 



•& j 



