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"You do not think with Mrs. Ivers in all things, I perceive," said the gentleman I have twice alluded to. "I am hardly, from my situation," replied Rose, "privileged to think her thoughts, though perhaps I may think of them." "A nice distinction," he answered. "Our lots in life are differently cast.
She has stood, the destroying angel, at the gate of my paradise, poisoning every enjoyment. Let me but humble her," she continued, rising proudly from the sofa upon which she had been resting; "let me but humble her, and I shall feel a triumphant woman! For that I have watched and waited; anxiety for that caused me the loss of my child; but if Ivers succeeds, I shall be repaid." Rose shuddered.
Rose Dillon's constancy was subjected to a still greater trial. Amongst the "troops of friends" who crowded more than ever round Mr. Ivers while his election was pending, was a young man as superior to the rest in mind as in fortune, and Rose Dillon's ready appreciation of the good and beautiful led her to respect and admire him.
Ivers was declared duly elected that the splendour of the late member's wife's entertainments and beauty, were perfectly eclipsed by the entertainments and beauty of the wife of the successful candidate that every house, except one, in the town was splendidly illuminated and that the people broke every pane of glass in the windows of that house, to prove their attachment to the great principle of freedom of election.
I wonder would Edward Lynne have quite approved of those tears; I wonder would he have been pleased to have observed the cheek of his affianced bride pressed against the drawing-room window, to catch a last glimpse of the cab which dashed from Mr. Ivers' door.
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