Lady Harriet Denbigh had brought the Baron a very substantial addition to his fortune; and as his sisters were both provided for by ample settlements, the pecuniary distresses which had existed a twelvemonth before had been entirely removed.  Chatterton’s income was now large, his demands upon it small, and he kept up an establishment in proportion to the rank of both husband and wife.

“Mrs. Wilson,” cried the hostess, twirling her cup as she followed with her eyes the retreating figure of her husband at the door, “I am about to take up the trade of Miss Harris, and become a match-maker.”

“Not on your own behalf so soon, surely,” rejoined the widow.

“Oh no, my fortune is made for life, or not at all,” continued the other, gaily; “but in behalf of our little friend Emily here.”

“Me,” cried Emily, starting from a reverie, in which the prospect of happiness to Lady Laura was the subject; “you are very good, Harriet; for whom do you intend me?”

“Whom!  Who is good enough for you, but my cousin Pendennyss?  Ah!” she cried, laughing, as she caught Emily by the hand, “Derwent and myself both settled the matter long since, and I know you will yield when you come to know him.”

“The duke!” cried the other, with a surprise and innocence that immediately brought a blush of the brightest vermillion into her face.

“Yes, the duke,” said Lady Chatterton:  “you may think it odd for a discarded lover to dispose of his mistress so soon, but both our hearts are set upon it.  The earl arrived last night, and this day he and his sister dine with us in a sober way:  now, my dear madam,” turning to Mrs. Wilson, “have I not prepared an agreeable surprise for you?”

“Surprise indeed,” said the widow, excessively gratified at the probable termination to her anxieties for this meeting; “but where are they from?”

“From Northamptonshire, where the earl has already purchased a residence, I understand, and in your neighborhood too; so, you perceive, he at least begins to think of the thing.”

“A certain evidence, truly,” cried Emily, “his having purchased the house.  But was he without a residence that he bought the deanery?”

“Oh no! he has a palace in town, and three seats in the country; but none in Northamptonshire but this,” said the lady, with a laugh.  “To own the truth he did offer to let George Denbigh have it for the next summer, but the Colonel chose to be nearer Eltringham; and I take it, it was only a ruse in the earl to cloak his own designs.  You may depend upon it, we trumpeted your praises to him incessantly in Westmoreland.”

“And is Colonel Denbigh in town?” said Mrs. Wilson, stealing an anxious glance towards her niece, who, in spite of all her efforts, sensibly changed color.

“Oh, yes! and Laura is as happy—­as happy—­as myself,” said Lady Chatterton, with a glow on her cheeks, as she attended to the request of her housekeeper, and left the room.