dertakes," rejoined the smiling dame, "and I hope he will soon learn, like you, to shoot with the harrows of Cupid. I hope the Honorable Mrs. Moseley is well."
Grace bowed mildly, as she answered to the interrogatory, and smiled at the thought of Jarvis put in competition with her husband in this species of archery, when a voice immediately behind where they sat caught the ears of the whole party; all it said was,—
"Harriet, you forgot to show me Marian's letter."
"Yes, but I will to-morrow," was the reply.
It was the tone of Denbigh. Emily almost fell from her seat as it first reached her, and the eyes of all but herself were immediately turned in quest of the speaker. He had approached within a very few feet of them, supporting a lady on each arm. A second look convinced the Moseleys that they were mistaken. It was not Denbigh, but a young man whose figure, face, and air resembled him strongly, and whose voice possessed the same soft melodious tones which had distinguished that of Denbigh. This party seated themselves within a very short distance of the Moseleys, and they continued their conversation.
"You heard from the colonel to-day, too, I believe," continued the gentleman, turning to the lady who sat next to Emily.
"Yes, he is a very punctual correspondent; I hear every other day."
"How is his uncle, Laura? "inquired her female companion.
"Rather better; but I will thank your Grace to find the marquis and Miss Howard."
"Bring them to us," rejoined the other.
"Yes," said the former lady, with a laugh, "and Eltringham will thank you too, I dare say."
In an instant the duke returned, accompanied by a gentleman of thirty and an elderly lady, who might have been safely taken for fifty without offense to anybody but herself.
During these speeches their auditors had listened with almost breathless interest. Emily had stolen a glance
