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Lady Augusta read this answer to her note with the greatest eagerness: the first time she ran her eye over it, joy, to find her secret yet undiscovered, suspended every other feeling; but, upon a second perusal, her ladyship felt extremely displeased by the cold civility of the style, and somewhat alarmed at the concluding paragraph. With no esteem, and little affection for Dashwood, she had suffered herself to imagine that her passion for him was uncontrollable.

What degree of felicity she was likely to enjoy with a man destitute equally of fortune and principle, she had never attempted to calculate; but there was something awful in the words–“I earnestly hope that nothing will tempt you to form a connexion which would prove fatal to your future happiness.” Whilst she was pondering upon these words, Dashwood met her in the park, where she was walking alone. “Why so grave?” exclaimed he, with anxiety.

“I am only thinking–that–I am afraid–I think this is a silly business: I wish, Mr. Dashwood, you wouldn’t think any more of it, and give me back my letters.”

Dashwood vehemently swore that her letters were dearer to him than life, and that the “last pang should tear them from his heart.”

“But, if we go on with all this,” resumed Lady Augusta, “it will at least break my mother’s heart, and mademoiselle’s into the bargain; besides, I don’t half believe you; I really–“

“I really, what?” cried he, pouring forth protestations of passion, which put Mr. Mountague’s letter entirely out of her head.

A number of small motives sometimes decide the mind in the most important actions of our lives; and faults are often attributed to passion which arise from folly. The pleasure of duping her governess, the fear of witnessing Helen’s triumph over her lover’s recovered affections, and the idea of the bustle and eclat of an elopement, all mixed together, went under the general denomination of love!–Cupid is often blamed for deeds in which he has no share.

“But,” resumed Lady Augusta, after making the last pause of expiring prudence, “what shall we do about mademoiselle?”

“Poor mademoiselle!” cried Dashwood, leaning back against a tree to support himself, whilst he laughed violently–“what do you think she is about at this instant?–packing up her clothes in a band-box.”

“Packing up her clothes in a band-box!”

“Yes; she verily believes that I am dying with impatience to carry her off to Scotland, and at four o’clock to-morrow morning she trips down stairs out of the garden-door, of which she keeps the key, flies across the park, scales the gate, gains the village, and takes refuge with her good friend, Miss Lacy, the milliner, where she is to wait for me. Now, in the mean time, the moment the coast is clear, I fly to you, my real angel.”

“Oh, no, upon my word,” said Lady Augusta, so faintly, that Dashwood went on exactly in the same tone.

“I fly to you, my angel, and we shall be half way on our trip to Scotland before mademoiselle’s patience is half exhausted, and before Miladi S—- is quite awake.”

Lady Augusta could not forbear smiling at this idea; and thus, by an unlucky stroke of humour, was the grand event of her life decided.

Marmontel’s well-known story, called Heureusement, is certainly not a moral tale: to counteract its effects, he should have written Malheureusement, if he could.

Nothing happened to disconcert the measures of Lady Augusta and Dashwood.

The next morning Lady S—- came down, according to her usual custom, late to breakfast. Mrs. Temple, Helen, Emma, Lord George, Mr. Mountague, etc., were assembled. “Has not mademoiselle made breakfast for us yet?” said Lady S—-. She sat down, and expected every moment to see Mlle. Panache and her daughter make their appearance; but she waited in vain. Neither mademoiselle, Lady Augusta, nor Dashwood, were any where to be found. Every body round the breakfast-table looked at each other in silence, waiting the event. “They are out walking, I suppose,” said Lady S—-, which supposition contented her for the first five minutes; but then she exclaimed, “It’s very strange they don’t come back!”