CHAPTER III. "Nec dulces amores Sperne, puer! neque tu choreas." HORACE. "Sapping a solemn creed with solemn sneer." BYRON. ANNETTE FAIRFORT was the younger of two daughters. Her sister, Lady Allanroy, had been married five years. Even in her earliest infancy she had lost that guide for whom no other preceptor can be substituted -whose tender care and gentle hand can never be replaced-her mother. She was too young to comprehend at the time her loss; nor in riper years did she fully appreciate its extent. Lord Fairfort, though proud of and sincerely attached to his children, was a man to whose naturally cold disposition the loss of his wife and the experience of the world had superadded an additional hardness and deficiency of sympathy. He had received his estates impoverished and encumbered; and he expended all his energies, and nearly all his time, in retrieving the mischief entailed by the folly, and perhaps the wickedness, of his ancestors. In public life he was known only by his noble name and high social position. Left thus to judge for herself at an age when most girls have opinions readymade for them, Annette Fairfort had arrived at many conclusions, differing considerably from those upon which society has affixed its permit. Hence, at least, she gained whatever benefits (and some are inclined to doubt their existence), originality confers. Her heart had not been "preached down with a little hoard of maxims;" and, though she might be too romantic for her particular century, she wore an earnest and simple sincerity of enthusiasm that must have pleased in any. A morning or two after his call in Piccadilly, Edgar saw among his letters an envelope that unmistakeably augured an invitation. He gave it precedence. It was, as he had anticipated, an invitation to a dance at Lord Fairfort's, on the 14th of June. He . placed it on his side of a portrait of the Duke of Wellington, which was dedicated to such purposes, and which was already very nearly full; for my hero, though, as already stated, having no near relatives, had pretty fair introductions into London society. On the parallel side of the picture, Cooper's cards lagged not far behind. The latter made his appearance earlier than usual, and at once noticed the accession to his adversary's ranks. "Upon my word, Huntingdon! you are distancing me; you are the first fellow in these chambers who has done it, I can tell you. But I have not Miss Fairfort to plead for me." "I think you have not much reason to complain. You must remember you are an old stager, whilst this is my first year in town; and people want new faces, as they want new fashions, even though they be ugly ones." "Thanks for your consolation! It's as you say. Handsome men" (with a mock air) "are at a discount." Edgar thought that, withal, Cooper was mortified. He was to be seen at almost every dance. When his father died he left him a competence, a handsome appearance, winning manners, idleness, and the entrance into the best salons. And no one danced oftener, had the reputation of flirting more, or was a greater favourite than Horace Cooper. "Ah, well! I oughtn't to care; and indeed I don't. The fact is, Huntingdon, I'm engaged, and am going to be Philip sober. It is to no one you've seen. I will introduce you to my bonnibel-there is Mary Linwood's portrait." "I should very much like to meet the girl up to your ideas. But I hope you are not going to do anything stupid. I thought you were too poor to always said so." marry-you've "Oh, my dear fellow! I can manage. I |