faltered; she cleared her throat, and began again--worse still, she was out
of tune: she affected to laugh. Then, pushing back her chair, she rose,
drew her veil over her face, and said, "I have sung till I have no voice
left.--Does nobody walk this morning?"

"No, no," said Colonel Hauton; "who the deuce would be _bored_ with being
broiled at this time of day? Miss Drakelow--Miss Chatterton, give us some
more music, I beseech you; for I like music better in a morning than at
night--the mornings, when one can't go out, are so confoundedly long and
heavy."

The young ladies played, and Miss Hauton seated herself apart from the
group of musicians, upon a _bergere_, leaning on her hand, in a melancholy
attitude. Buckhurst Falconer followed and sat down beside her, endeavouring
to entertain her with some witty anecdote.

She smiled with effort, listened with painful attention, and the moment the
anecdote was ended, her eyes wandered out of the window. Buckhurst rose,
vacated his seat, and before any of the other gentlemen who had gathered
round could avail themselves of that envied place, Miss Hauton, complaining
of the intolerable heat, removed nearer to the window, to an ottoman,
one half of which was already so fully occupied by a large dog of her
brother's, that she was in no danger from any other intruder. Some of the
gentlemen, who were not blessed with much sagacity, followed, to talk to
her of the beauty of the dog which she was stroking; but to an eulogium
upon its long ears, and even to a quotation from Shakspeare about dewlaps,
she listened with so vacant an air, that her followers gave up the point,
and successively retired, leaving her to her meditations. Godfrey, who had
kept aloof, had in the mean time been looking at some books that lay on a
reading table.--_Maria Hauton_ was written in the first page of several of