would take an even bet on her chance of catching the nabob.'"
Mr. Glentworth had never quitted Europe, and his wealth was either good English landed property, or equally undeniable English consols; still he was a stranger, very rich, and suddenly come from abroad. Such a man was necessarily a nabob in Mr. Palmer's eyes. India had been the place for making large fortunes in his young days. Mrs. Palmer, though her wishes went along with his prediction, could not believe it, with a full, entire, and comfortable belief, so she took refuge in a general phrase, "Well, I shall hope for the best." Still her satisfaction in the Granards having acquired such a valuable friend was greatly qualified, it would be dearly purchased if the price of happiness.
There was, also, another person who was any thing but content at the way in which things were going on, and that was Lady Anne Granard. Days, weeks, had glided by since the memorable dinner party, and Mr. Glentworth had not only not made any of her daughters an offer, but seemed to have no intention of ever making one. True, he added largely to the enjoyments of the girls; but that was a point on which she was perfectly indifferent. True, he was in the habit of making them magnificent presents, but the shapes which they took were very unacceptable to her ladyship—books, music, drawings, were trash in her eyes; a new dress, or a pretty or-
