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“Very strange–I mean rather strange,” said Lord George, helping himself, as he spoke, to his usual quantity of butter, and then drumming upon the table; whilst Mr. Mountague, all the time, looked down, and preserved a profound silence.

At length the door opened, and Mlle. Panache, in a riding habit, made her appearance. ” Bon jour, miladi! Bon jour! ” said she, looking round at the silent party, with a half terrified, half astonished countenance. Je vous demande mille pardons–Qu’est ce que c’est? I have only been to take a walk dis morning into de village to de milliner’s. She has disappointed me of my tings, dat kept me waiting; but I am come back in time for breakfast, I hope?”

“But where is my daughter?” cried Lady S—-, roused at last from her natural indolence–“where is Lady Augusta?”

” Bon Dieu! Miladi, I don’t know. Bon Dieu! in her bed, I suppose. Bon Dieu! ” exclaimed she a third time, and turned as pale as ashes. “But where den is Mr. Dashwood?” At this instant a note, directed to mademoiselle, was brought into the room: the servant said that Lady Augusta’s maid had just found it upon her lady’s toilette–mademoiselle tore open the note.

“Excuse me to my mother– you can best plead my excuse.

“You will not see me again till I am

‘Augusta Dashwood.'”

” Ah scelerat! Ah scelerat! Il m’a trahi! ” screamed mademoiselle: she threw down the note, and sunk upon the sofa in real hysterics; whilst Lady S—-, seeing in one and the same moment her own folly and her daughter’s ruin, fixed her eyes upon the words “Augusta Dashwood,” and fainted. Mr. Mountague led Lord George out of the room with him, whilst Mrs. Temple, Helen, and her sister, ran to the assistance of the unhappy mother and the detected governess.

As soon as mademoiselle had recovered tolerable composure, she recollected that she had betrayed too violent emotion on this occasion. ” Il m’a trahi,” were words, however, that she could not recall; it was in vain she attempted to fabricate some apology for herself. No apology could avail: and whilst Lady S—-, in silent anguish, wept for her own and her daughter’s folly, the governess, in loud and gross terms, abused Dashwood, and reproached her pupil with having shown duplicity, ingratitude, and a bad heart.

“A bad education!” exclaimed Lady S—-, with a voice of mingled anger and sorrow. “Leave the room, mademoiselle; leave my house. How could I choose such a governess for my daughter! Yet, indeed,” added her ladyship, turning to Mrs. Temple, “she was well recommended to me, and how could I foresee all this?”

To such an appeal, at such a time, there was no reply to be made: it is cruel to point out errors to those who feel that they are irreparable; but it is benevolent to point them out to others, who have yet their choice to make.