of it: but I hate mysteries, they are often miserable, and always mischievous; do tell me what you mean? Believe me that your present unhappiness originates in some misapprehension!"
"Were you never," faltered Constance, "engaged, or attached to Norbourne?"
"Me!" cried Lady Marchmont; "I never knew him till after my own marriage, and then very slightly. I know not how this strange fancy originated, but it has not the shadow of a foundation. Come, tell me candidly, what could have put it in your head?"
"I will," said Constance, who felt intuitively that Lady Marchmont spoke the truth: "I thought that there was something very peculiar in your manner at Mrs. Howard's fête; and Lady Dudley"
"Say no more," interrupted Henrietta: "the very mention of that inveterate gossip accounts for every thing. Do let me, my dear Mrs. Courtenaye," and she took her hand with a kindness that was irresistible, "let me warn you against allowing your happiness to be the
