her in what is best expressed by an ill-humour. Her liking for Henrietta had long since passed away; jealousy had, as usual, been followed by envy, whose companion is sure to be dislike. She had not yet forgiven her for Lord Harvey; and now there was Sir George Kingston, whose homage she had quite resolved on making her own.
"Une ame tendre" said she: which, being translated into plain English, means 'a tender heart.' "Why, instead of coming from Paris, I shall believe you come from Utopia. There are no hearts in our world."
"For 'ours,' say 'yours,'" replied Sir George.
"No; I mean what I say," interrupted Lady Mary.
"An unusual occurrence," muttered Lord Harvey.
Without attending to the remark, Lady Mary went on.
"We might have had hearts in our cradles; but, as I don't pretend to remember mine, I cannot say. Perhaps at sixteen, too, there is
