to her future interests had arisen, her hand having been long since given to him; from the general principles adopted by Douglas on the subject, the only means left open to him for rescuing her from such a situation, was, he conceived, to have a conversation of a private nature with Mrs. Melbourne.
His discrimination led him to the assurance that Miss Airey, under some youthful levities, concealed solid qualities. Whenever he had been led accidentally to approach her and to address her, the gaiety of the moment instantly dispersed, whilst a shade, as of regret or reflection, passed her brow: but sentiments such as these, by the life of perpetual dissipation she led, were, he imagined, in danger of tarnish, if not of becoming entirely obscured. Nevertheless, she seemed to him so new to life, so truly a child—a reason, doubtless, more urgent to uphold and lend her his protection: the ray of humanity irradiating her features—the exclamation that burst from her, upon his first arousing from the torpor of insensibility, whilst extended in his narrow hammock on ship-board, had ever since left impressions of gratitude on his memory.
Miss Airey had often observed Douglas mingling with the crowd, an inattentive observer, she supposed, to all that was passing. Mistaken, how-
