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“Pretty or not, Lord George did not think it worth while to look at it last night. His lordship will go through the world mighty easily, don’t you think so, Mr. Dashwood?” Dashwood attempted an apology for his pupil, but in such a sort, as if he did not mean it to be accepted, and then, returning the bow to her ladyship’s hand, paused, sighed, and observed, that, upon the whole, it was happy for his lordship that he possessed so much nonchalance. “Persons of a different cast,” continued he, “cannot, as your ladyship justly observes, expect to pass through life so easily.” This speech was pronounced in a tone so different from Dashwood’s usual careless gaiety, that Lady Augusta could not help being struck with it; and by her vanity, it was interpreted precisely as the gentleman wished. Rank and fortune were her serious objects, but she had no objection to amusing herself with romance. The idea of seeing the gay, witty Mr, Dashwood metamorphosed, by the power of her charms, into a despairing, sighing swain, played upon her imagination, and she heard his first sigh with a look which plainly showed how well she understood its meaning.

“Why now, was there ever any thing so provoking!” cried Lord George, swinging himself into the room.

“What’s the matter, my lord?” said Dashwood.

“Why, don’t you see, it’s raining as hard as it can rain?” replied his lordship, with the true pathos of a man whose happiness is dependent upon the weather. His scheme of going upon the water being now impracticable, he lounged about the room all the rest of the morning, supporting that miserable kind of existence, which idle gentlemen are doomed to support, they know not how, upon a rainy day. Neither Lady Augusta nor her mother, in calculating the advantages and disadvantages of an alliance with his lordship, ever once considered his habits of listless idleness as any objection in a companion for life.

After dinner the day cleared up–the ladies were dressed in their archery uniform–the carriages came to the door, and Lord George was happy in the prospect of driving his new phaeton. Dashwood handed the ladies to their coach; for his lordship was too much engaged in confabulation with his groom, on the merits of his off-leader, to pay attention to any thing else upon earth.

His phaeton was presently out of sight, for he gloried in driving as fast as possible; and, to reward his exertions, he had the satisfaction of hearing two strangers, as he passed them, say–“Ha! upon my word, those horses go well!” A postilion at a turnpike gate, moreover, exclaimed to a farmer, who stood with his mouth wide open–“There goes Lord George! he cuts as fine a figure on the road as e’er a man in England.” Such was the style of praise of which this young nobleman was silly enough to be vain.

“I’ve been in these three quarters of an hour!” cried he, exultingly, as Lady S—- got out of her coach.

“There has been no shooting yet though, I hope?” said Lady Augusta.

“No, no, ma’am,” replied Dashwood; “but the ladies are all upon the green–a crowd of fair competitors; but I’d bet a thousand pounds upon your ladyship’s arrows. Make way there–make way,” cried the man of gallantry, in an imperious tone, to some poor people, who crowded round the carriage; and talking and laughing loud, he pushed forward, making as much bustle in seating the ladies as they could have wished. Being seated, they began to bow and nod to their acquaintance. “There’s Mrs. Temple and her daughters,” said Lady S—-.

“Where, ma’am?” said Lady Augusta: “I’m sure I did not expect to meet them here. Where are they?”

“Just opposite to us. Pray, Mr. Dashwood, who is that gentleman in brown, who is talking to Miss Helen Temple?” “Upon my word I don’t know, madam; he bowed just now to Lord George.”