mond and Ellen had no angry, passions, and that passion which one had ventured to avow, and the other had exerted every power to conceal, found "food to grow upon at such a time, and in such a scene as this. The heavens were one pile of gorgeous clouds, tinged with the red glories of the setting sun. The earth, with its mellowed lights and shadows, was each moment changing, yet the same. "How beautiful!" was Ellen's natural exclamation, as for a moment they paused to look at the fair scene before them.

Beautiful!" was echoed by her companion; but there was more expression in the tone of the gentleman than of the lady. She was simply looking at the view, and admiring it for itself; he was looking at it, as the scene in which they were for the last time standing together, before the hand, which now rested on his arm, should be irrevocably pledged to another: so in his tone, there was a tenderness, and melancholy, and two or three other things, which a man who loves, and does not care to conceal it, can throw into a single word in itself expressing nothing.

It was not Frederick Percival's fault that he was at that very moment rising to speak for three hours, upon army estimates;—it was not his fault if this was such an evening as the English climate seldom produces, and that Lady Ellen Glanville, and Lord Raymond were standing on a hill enjoying it together. But it was unfortunate, to say the least of it, that the accepted lover was shut up in the House of Commons, while the refused lover could gaze at beautiful sun-sets, with her the idol of his heart, and the betrothed of another. It was in fact exactly the sort of thing that ought to have been avoided. Ellen felt that it was-and she pointed out Lady Lindsay, who had made herself a seat of some hay at the bottom of the slope, while Lord Lindsay, was extracting useful knowledge from the Norland bailiff—and suggested the expediency of joining her.

"They must return this way-rest here," Lord Raymond said, leading her to a rude seat within a few paces of the spot where they were standing. "Do not refuse me these last few minutes. We shall not meet again for many months, and I can yet dream of happiness, standing by your side. Oh, if you knew what, since yesterday, has been the wretchedness of my heart!"

The quivering lip, and the tears which started to his eyes, did indeed tell of deeper unhappiness than he had voice to dwell on. And Ellen had no comfort to give. She felt that

it was better that they should not meet for months;-she felt that it would be better still, if they were never to meet again. So she did the only perfectly safe thing that any body can do in this world-she remained silent; and silently he leaned against the tree which overshadowed them. Lady Lindsay looked towards them, and hoped, and almost believed, that there were two others in existence, as happy as Lord Lindsay and herself. It was a pity that she was mistaken; as many others are in the world, who cannot look into their fellowcreatures' hearts, yet blame them for actions to which they themselves have given motives that never have, never could have been theirs.

It was not long before Lord Lindsay joined them, and they were all proceeding together towards the house. But the remembrance of that evening-of those last few painful moments -never quitted Ellen to the latest hour of her existence.

A little more talk of the Lindsays' future arrangements—a few affectionate speeches of Lady Lindsay's to Ellen-some fruitless attempts of Lord Raymond's to appear interested in what was passing-and they arrived at the house, and found the carriage waiting.

It would have been some comfort to Lord Raymond could he have known how often, during their drive home, his parting look, as they drove from the door, haunted Ellen.

"If Lord Raymond is not in love with Harriet Rivers," said Elizabeth, "I suspect that poor Lindsay will discover that he has married into a sadly dull family. You may remember that the very first day that I ever saw Lord Raymond, when he took you down to dinner in Grosvenor Square, I prophesied that he would turn out a complete failure, as far as agreeableness went."

CHAPTER XX.

My friend Jane, will meet me at the ball,
And see me taken out the first of all;
I see her looks when she beholds the men
All crowd about me-she will simper then,
And cry, with her affected air and voice,
Oh! my sweet Clara, how do I rejoice

At your good fortune! Thank you, dear, say I;
But some there are that could for envy die.

Mamma looked on with thoughts to these allied,
She felt the pleasure of reflected pride.-CRABBE.

THERE was one individual at least, who was made happy in consequence of what passed during the evening at Norland. Lord Lindsay, when talking of the necessary preparations for his tour, recollected John Harrison, as exactly the useful person who would go and make all sorts of inquiries about all sorts of steam-boats. Lord Lindsay had a fancy for embarking at the Tower: it would save time and save money. To be sure he happened to have a superabundance of both;-and if Lady Lindsay could find in her heart to hate any thing, she hated a steam-boat. But he was never sea-sick; and when they did not materially affect his own comfort, he was in the habit of acting upon general principles;-and the general principle of saving time and money was good.

It was a proud moment for John Harrison when he came down to breakfast, and found a letter franked by Lord Lindsay on the table. He read the eight or ten lines it contained, slowly, and with an air of interest that spoke volumes.

"Well, John?" said his mother, interrogatively.

"Well, what is he writing about, John?" asked Julia; and Kate raised her eyes, as much as to say that she was listening for his answer. They were now very pensive looking eyes, such as people have whose affections are being trifled with. Mr. Butler had this to answer for.

"Well!" answered John mysteriously, as he deposited the letter in his pocket; "it is only a letter from Lindsay, about some business he wishes me manage for him. Poor Lindsay! I thought how it would be; I thought that he would soon begin to beat up for friends again."

"He asks you down to Norland then, does he?" said Julia. VOL. I.-13

"No, he says nothing about that; he knows enough of my ways to be aware that it would not be very easy to get me to leave London just now."

"Then what is the letter about?" persisted Julia.

"Hush, my dear girl, whispered her mother; “Do not ask your brother any more about it. When one young man writes to another, all sorts of odd things may be said, that you had better not hear."

If Lord Lindsay could have heard himself and John Harrison mentioned abstractedly, as two young men writing to one another, what would have been his feelings?-John's conduct at this trying moment, was beyond all praise. He carefully avoided betraying that he had heard either question or reproof, but drew the letter from his pocket, again studied it with an air of the deepest interest, and then, with a Lord Burleigh shake of the head, quitted the room, to make inquiries about all the Darts, and Harlequins, and Fireflies that boiled across the water.

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Now, I would give the world to know what is in that letter," said Julia. I am convinced, if I could tell what it is about, I could give John advice that would be of use. He shows, by his face, that there is something the matter."

"We know that Lord Lindsay has not been disappointed in love," said Kate, who could think of no other possible misfortune; and she walked out of the room to seek for solitude.

"It is a sad thing that Mr. Butler dawdles on so without proposing; Kate frets about him, that I see plainly enough," observed the anxious mother. "Could you make out, Julia, whether he said anything particular to her, yesterday evening?"

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If

No, mamma, nothing very particular, except all the old story, of his being sure that if his family were to know her, she was exactly the sort of person they would doat upon. I had been there I never should have resisted saying, then why do you not give them the opportunity? I have advised Kate, the next time they meet, to try what a little coldness and dignity of manner will do. There is nothing like a little dignity."

She was interrupted by the re-entrance of Kate, looking flushed and agitated, with some pink and blue cards in her hand.

"Mamma, they have just brought me these. They are for a private view of that exhibition of pictures we were talking of the other day; they came in this cover directed to

me; and there is written in it, with Mr. Francis Butler's compliments, and he hopes that the Mrs. and the Miss Harrisons will do him the honor to make use of them."

"That gives you an excellent opportunity," said Julia, "to be dignified. You can send them back and say that you do not want them."

"But I do want them very much indeed-I am dying to see the pictures and he will be there probably—and I can be dignified when we meet; and you know that the Beaumonts said that it would be an excellent morning assembly, for that every body meant to go to this private exhibitionand they wished they were going too-so we can send them the three tickets we do not want-it would be quite ill-natured not. If it were only for their sakes, I should not like to refuse them."

"To be sure," Julia answered, "it would be as well to send them the tickets, and at the same time to let them know that Mr. Butler sent them to us."

So with minds equally bent upon serving the Beaumonts, Julia and Kate agreed to accept the tickets:-Kate all agitation to know whether he would be there.-Julia, just conscious of a passing thought, as to whether the Sprys were likely to be fond of pictures.

Nothing that offered a chance of amusement ever came amiss to the Beaumonts. The family coach was at the door by four, and Mrs. Beaumont, in her rustling gown, ready to be packed into it, and carried off by her daughters, wherever her chaperonage could be turned to the best advantage.

These tickets were a lucky hand indeed. Maria, for one, had no doubt about going. Every body said that she had a decided turn for drawing;-so she was passionately fond of every thing relating to the fine arts. She was only sorry that Kate Harrison was making herself so absurd about Mr. Butler, that she could not write a common note without thrusting his name into it.-Eliza would have been very glad to let Anne take her place; but it would not be behaving handsomely by the Harrisons, who had always taken such pains to show that she was their favorite. They would be disappointed if she did not meet them there. Anne had better stay at home and keep herself fresh for Mrs. Trans's dance in the evening.

Well! if ever I saw such a quantity of people!" Mrs. Beaumont said, as she elbowed her way into the exhibitionroom. "I never like coming to this sort of place without having your father or Richard, to get us through the crowd.