case with most of these; and I confess I trembled when I saw him holding them so close to the candle, and poring so intently over the seeming blanks; but still, I trusted he would not be able to make out these dim traces to his own satisfaction. I was mistaken however—having ended his scrutiny, he quietly remarked,—
"I perceive, the backs of young ladies' drawings, like the postscripts of their letters, are the most important and interesting part of the concern."
Then, leaning back in his chair, he reflected a few minutes in silence, complacently smiling to himself, and, while I was concocting some cutting speech wherewith to check his gratification, he rose, and passing over to where Annabella Wilmot sat vehemently coquetting with Lord Lowborough, seated himself on the sofa beside her, and attached himself to her for the rest of the evening.
"So then!" thought I—"he despises me, because he knows I love him."
