when I am a duchess, which I have quite set my mind on being, I will be very grateful to you for having patronised my first benefit, which I shall rely upon your doing."
Half of this voluble discourse was lost upon Norbourne; it seemed as if, within the last few days, he was fated to be haunted by the image of Ethel Churchill: he could not resist making an inquiry. He glanced around, no one was attending; and, in a hurried and agitated tone, he whispered,—"For God's sake, do tell me something of Ethel—Miss Churchill, I mean?"
The girl looked at him earnestly and gravely,—even reproachfully; but there was something in the true emotion of his manner that apparently touched her.
"Mr. Courtenaye," answered she, in a voice even more guarded than his own, "I can tell you nothing that will, that ought to give you any satisfaction. It is a miserable vanity which delights in the affection it only sought to betray. I know how you sought to win that of my young mistress. Heaven is my
