more than she scorned. She sprang to her feet; the crimson flood went back upon her heart; a strange light flashed from her eyes; her white lips were firmly compressed; and she clasped her hands so tightly, that the blood slightly tinged the ends of her fingers.
If ever an evil spirit be allowed to enter our frail human tenement, such spirit would have seemed to enter into Henrietta Marchmont. A strange tranquillity passed over her; she rose from her seat, and wrote a note; there was a key, which she took from the table, enclosed in it. After carefully sealing the parcel, she rang; and when the servant came in, she said,—
"Let this parcel, late as it is, be taken immediately—I forgot it; and you may tell Madame Cecile, that I am so tired, I shall not wait for her: she may go to bed without disturbing me. Is Lord Marchmont come up from supper yet?"
"No, my lady. To-night, M. Chloe tries the new receipt for stewed mushrooms, that Sir Robert Walpole's cook gave him, and they are
