On the day succeeding the scene that had passed near the Fountain of the Rocks, every thing seemed to wear an aspect of unusual gaiety and content. The countess was more kind in her manner than ordinary, and the looks of Strathallan expressed a soft and delighted triumph; Matilda alone could not forgive herself, and was even inclined to be angry with that appearance of satisfaction in her lover, which she felt so little disposed to share. The soft illusion to which she for a moment had yielded, was succeeded by the / bitterest repentance. For the first time she experienced the sting of self-reproach; and its power was, therefore, the more painfully strong upon her young and ingenuous mind. She had been led, though unintentionally, into an imprudence, in which her heart could not wholly acquit her of all blame; and after having passed a sleepless night, reflecting how best to repair it, it appeared to her that nothing but a frank confession of the whole to Lady Torrendale, could restore her to that peace and serenity of mind, without which she felt so completely unhappy. But how to make this confession, without leading the countess to suspect a partiality, which, under the circumstances of Strathallan's present engagements, would be most painful to the delicacy of her feelings, was the greatest difficulty. Lady Torrendale, however, soon gave her the opportunity she desired. The character of this lady was so habitually DOUBLE, that though really fond of both Arbella and Matilda, she never could refrain from blaming the one to the other, when engaged with either in confidential discourse. She was, according to this laudable custom, expressing to Miss Melbourne her disapprobation of Miss Ferrars's coquetry, and her perpetual anxiety lest Spencer, (though incapable of entertaining a serious thought of one so much below what his pretensions entitled him to aspire to,) might be drawn by such arts into some imprudent declaration.