decreasing income. The annual journey to London had been first shortened, then abandoned; visits to Brighton and Cheltenham, and other places of fashionable resort, became less frequent; and the Belford Races, where, in spite of Mr. Elphinstone's repeated embarrassments, they still flourished among the county belles, became their principal scene of exhibition.

Race-ball after race-ball, however, came and departed, and brought nothing in the shape of a suitor to the expecting damsels. Partners for the dance presented themselves in plenty, but partners for life were still to seek. And Mrs. Elphinstone, in pettish despair, was beginning, on the first evening of the very last year of the Races, to rejoice at the prospect of their being given up; to discover that the balls were fatiguing, the course dreary, and the theatre dull; that the whole affair was troublesome and tiresome; that it was in the very worst taste to be running after so paltry an amusement at the rate of sixteen hours a day for three successive days; when, in the very midst of her professions of disgust and indifference, as she was walking up the assembly-room with her eldest daughter hanging on her arm (Miss Julia, a little indisposed and a little tired, not with the crowd, but with the emptiness of the race-ground, having chosen to stay at home), her hopes were suddenly revived by being told in a very significant manner by one of the stewards, that Lord Lindore had requested of him the honour of being presented to her daughter. "He had seen her in the carriage that afternoon," said the friendly master of the ceremonies, with a very intelligible smile, and an abrupt stop as the rapid advance of the young gentleman interrupted his speech and turned his intended confidence into My Lord, allow me the pleasure of introducing you to Miss Elphinstone."

Mr. Clavering's suspicions were pretty evident, and although the well-bred and selfcommanded chaperone contrived to conceal her comprehension of his hints, and preserved the most decorous appearance of indifference, she yet managed to extract from her kind neighbour, that the elegant young nobleman who was leading the fair Gertrude to the dance was just returned from a tour in Greece and Germany, and being on his way to an estate about thirty miles off in the vale of Berkshire, had been struck on accidentally visiting the Belford race-course by the beauty of a young lady in an open landau, and having ascertained that the carriage belonged to Mr. Elphinstone, and that the family would certainly attend the ball, he had stayed, as it seemed, for the sole purpose of being introduced. "So at least says report," added Mr. Clavering; and for once report said true.

Lord Lindore was a young nobleman of large but embarrassed property, very good

talents, and very amiable disposition; who was, in spite of his many excellent qualities, returning loiteringly and reluctantly home to one of the best and cleverest mothers in the world: and a less fair reason than the sweet and blooming face which peeped out so brightly from under the brim of her cottage-bonnet, (for cottage-bonnets were the fashion of that distant day,) would have excused him to himself for a longer delay than that of the raceball; his good mother, kind and clever as she was, having by a letter entreating his speedy return contrived to make that return as unpleasant as possible to her affectionate and dutiful son,-who, as a dutiful and affectionate son, obediently turned his face towards Glenham Abbey, whilst as a spoilt child and a peer of the realm, and in those two characters pretty much accustomed to carry matters his own way, he managed to make his obedience as dawdling and as dilatory as possible.

The letter which had produced this unlucky effect was an answer to one written by himself from Vienna, announcing the dissolution of a matrimonial engagement with a pretty Austrian, who had jilted him for the purpose of marrying a Count of the Holy Roman Empire old enough to be her grandfather:-on which event Lord Lindore, whose susceptibility to female charms was so remarkable that ever since he had attained the age of sixteen he had been in love with some damsel or other, and had been twenty times saved from the most preposterous matches by the vigilance of his tutors and the care of his fond mother, gravely felicitated himself on being emanci pated, then and for ever, from the dominion of beauty; and declared that if ever he could love again,-which he thought unlikely—he should seek for nothing in woman but the unfading graces of the mind. Lady Lindore's reply contained a warm congratulation on her son's release from the chains of an unprincipled coquette, and from the evils of an alliance with a foreigner; adding, that she rejoiced above all to find that his heart was again upon his hands, since on the winding up of his affairs, preparatory to his coming of age, his guardians and herself had discovered that, long as his minority had been, the accumula tions consequent thereupon were entirely swallowed up by the payment of his sisters' portions; and the mortgages that encumbered his property could only be cleared away by the sale of the beautiful demesne on which she resided during his absence abroad, and which, although the estate that had been longest in the family, was the only one not strictly entailed, or by the less painful expedient of a wealthy marriage. "And now that your heart is free," continued Lady Lindore, “there can be but little doubt which measure you will adopt; the more especially as I have a young lady in view, whose talents and attainments are of no common order, whose temper and

"She has had no education at all, except from the old rector of the parish,-a college tutor or some such oddity; and she is quite ignorant of all the things that other people know, but very quick and intelligent; so that".

“Miss Julia Elphinstone," said Mr. Clavering, coming up to Lord Lindore and his partner, and interrupting a colloquy in which our friend Arthur was taking much interest, "Miss Julia Elphinstone, Lady Selby has sprained her ancle, and is obliged to sit down; so that I must call upon you to name this dance. Come, young ladies!-to your places! What dance do you call, Miss Julia ?"

And in balancing between the merits of "The Dusty Miller" and "Money Musk" (for this true story occurred in the merry day of country dances), and then in mastering the pleasant difficulties of going down an intricate figure remarking on the mistakes of the other couples, the subject dropped so effectually that it was past the gentleman's skill to recall. Nor could he extort a word on the topic from his next partner, Miss Elphinstone, who, somewhat cleverer than her sister-colder, prouder, and more guarded, took especial pains to conceal what she esteemed a blot on the family escutcheon from one whose rank would, she thought, make him still more disdainful than herself of any connexion with the yeomanry, or, as she called them, the farmer and miller people of the country. He could not even learn the place of his fair one's residence, or the name of the relations with whom she lived, and returned to his inn in a most unhappy frame of mind, dissatisfied with himself and with all about him.

A sleepless night had, however, the not uncommon effect of producing a wise and proper resolution. He determined to proceed immediately to Glenham, and open his mind to his fond mother, the friend, after all, most interested in his happiness, and most likely to enter into his feelings, however opposed they might be to her own views. "She has a right to my confidence, kind and indulgent as she has always been-I will lay my whole heart before her," thought Arthur. He had even magnanimity enough to determine, if she insisted upon the measure, that he would take a look at the heiress. "Seeing is not marrying," thought Lord Lindore; and if she be really as ugly and as pedantic as I anticipate, I shall have a very good excuse for getting off -to say nothing of the chance of her disliking me. I'll see her at all events,-that can do no harm; and then-why then-alors comme alors! as my friend the baron says. At all events, I'll see her."

In meditations such as these passed the brief and rapid journey between Belford and Glenham. The morning was brilliantly beautiful, the distance little more than thirty miles, and it was still early in the day when the

noble oaks of his ancestral demesne rose before him in the splendid foliage of autumn.

The little village of Glenham was one of those oases of verdure and cultivation which are sometimes to be met with in the brown desert of the Berkshire Downs. It formed a pretty picture to look down upon from the top of one of the turfy hills by which it was surrounded: the cottages and cottage gardens; the church rising amongst lime-trees and yews; the parsonage close by; the winding road; the great farm-house, with its suburb of ricks and barns, and stables and farm-buildings, surrounded by richly-timbered meadows, extensive coppices, and large tracts of arable land; and the abbey, with its beautiful park, its lake, and its woods, stretching far into the distance,

formed an epitome of civilized life in all its degrees—an island of fertility and comfort in the midst of desolation. Lord Lindore felt, as he gazed, that to be the owner of Glenham was almost worth the sacrifice of a young man's fancy.

Still more strongly did this feeling press upon him, mixed with all the tenderest associations of boyhood, as, in passing between the low Gothic lodges, the richly-wrought iron gate was thrown open to admit him by the well-remembered portress, a favourite pensioner of his mother's, her head slightly shaking with palsy, her neatly-attired person bent with age, and her hand trembling partly from infirmity but more for joy at the sight of her young master; and as he drove through the noble park, with its majestic avenues, its clear waters and magnificent woods, to the venerable mansion which still retained, in its antique portal, its deep bay windows, its turrets, towers and pinacles, its cloisters and its terraces, so many vestiges of the incongruous but picturesque architecture of the age of the Tudors: and by the time that he was ushered by the delighted old butler into the presence of Lady Lindore-a dignified and still handsome woman, full of grace and intellect, who, seated in the stately old library, looked like the very spirit of the place,-he was so entirely absorbed in the early recollections and domestic affections-had so completely forgotten his affairs of the heart, the beauty with whom he was so reasonably in love, and the heiress whom with equal wisdom he hated, that, when his mother mentioned the subject, it came upon him with a startling painfulness like the awaking from a pleasant dream.

He had, however, sufficient resolution to tell her the truth, and the whole truth, although the almost smiling surprise with which she heard the story was not a little mortifying to his vanity. A young man of one-and-twenty cares little for a lecture; but to suppose himself an object of ridicule to a person of admitted talent is insupportable. Such was unfortunately poor Arthur's case at the present moment.

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"So much for arriving at what the law calls years of discretion," observed Lady Lindore, quietly resuming her embroidery. From the time you wrote yourself sixteen, until this very hour, that silly heart of yours has been tossed like a shuttlecock from one pretty girl to another; and now you celebrate your coming of age by the sage avowal of loving a lady whom you have never spoken to, and hating another whom you have never seen-Well! I suppose you must have your own way. But, without questioning the charms and graces of this Katy of yours, just be pleased to tell me why you have taken such an aversion to my poor little girl. Is it merely because she has the hundred thousand pounds necessary to clear off your mortgages? "Certainly not."

יי?

"Or because I unluckily spoke of her talents?"

"Not of her talents, dear mother: no son of yours could dislike clever women. But you spoke of her as awfully accomplished-" "I have never said a word of her accomplishments."

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"As awfully learned, then" "Neither do I remember speaking of that." "At all events, as awfully wise. And, dearest mother, your wise ladies and literary ladies are, not to say anything affronting, too wise for me. I like something artless, simple, natural-a wild, gay, playful creature, full of youthful health and life, with all her girlish tastes about her; fond of birds and flowers-" "And charmed with a country play," added Lady Lindore, completing her son's sentence. "Well! we must find out this Katy of yours, if indeed the fancy holds. In the mean while, I have letters to write to your guardians; and you can revisit your old haunts in the grounds till dinner time, when you will see this formidable heiress, and will, I trust, treat her at least with the politeness of a gentleman and the attention due from the master of the house to an unoffending guest.'

"She is here then ?” inquired Lord Lindore. "She was in this room in search of a book not half an hour before your arrival."

"Some grave essay or learned treatise, doubtless!" thought Arthur within himself; and then assuring his mother of his attention to her commands, he followed her suggestion and strolled out into the park.

The sun was yet high in the heavens, and the beautiful scene around him, clothed in the deep verdure of September, seemed rejoicing in his beams,-the lake, especially, lay sparkling in the sunshine like a sheet of molten silver; and almost unconsciously Lord Lindore directed his steps to a wild glen near the water, which had been the favourite haunt of his boyhood.

It was a hollow dell, surrounded by steep banks, parted from the lake by a thicket of fern and holly and old thorn, much frequented

by the deer, and containing in its bosom its own deep silent pool, dark and bright as a diamond, with a grotto scooped out of one side of the hill, which in his childish days had been decayed and deserted, and of which he had taken possession for his fishing-tackle and other boyish property. Lady Lindore had, however, during his absence, taken a fancy to the place; had extended the stone-work, and covered it with climbing plants; had made walks and flowerbeds round the pool, indenting the pond itself with banks, bays, and headlands; had erected one or two rustic seats;-and it formed now, under the name of The Rockery, a very pretty lady's garden-all the prettier that the improvements had been managed with great taste-that the scene retained much of its original wildness, its irregularity of form and variety of shadow-and that even even in the creepers which trailed about the huge masses of stone, indigenous plants were skilfully mingled with the more gorgeous exotics. On this lovely autumn day it looked like a piece of fairy-land, and Lord Lindore stood gazing at the scene from under the ivied arch which led to its recesses with much such a feeling of delight and astonishment as must have been caused to Aladdin the morning after the slaves of the lamp had erected his palace of jewels and gold.

There are no jewels after all, like the living gems called flowers; and never were flowers so bright, so gorgeous, so beautiful, as in the Glenham Rockery. Convolvuluses of all colours, passion-flowers of all shades, clematises of twenty kinds, rich nasturtiums, sweet musk-roses, pearly-blossomed myrtles, starry jessamines, and a hundred splendid exotics, formed a glowing tapestry round the walls,whose tops were crowned by velvet snapdragons, and large bushes of the beautiful cistus, called the rock-rose; whilst beds of geraniums, of lobelias, of calceolaria, and of every sort of gay annual, went dotting round the pool, and large plants of the blue hydrangea grew low upon the banks, and the long coral blossoms of the fuschia hung like weeping-willows into the water. Bees were busy in the honeyed tubes of the different coloured sultans, and dappled butterflies were swinging in the rich flowers of the China-aster; gold and silver fishes were playing in the pond, and the songster of early autumn, the ever-cheerful redbreast, was twittering from the tree. bees, and birds, and butterflies were not the only tenants of the Glenham Rockery.

But

A group well suited to the scene, and so; deeply occupied as to be wholly unconscious of observation, was collected near the entrance of the grotto. Adam Griffith, the well-remembered old gardener, with his venerable white locks, was standing, receiving and depositing in a covered basket certain prettily-folded | little packets delivered to him by a young lady, who, half sitting, half kneeling, was