here is rather too violent, though I own the loss of her flowers might have aggravated any common privation. There is, however no female character in the whole compass of poetry, in which I have ever taken so lively an interest, and no poem that ever took such powerful possession of my mind.'

If any thing had been wanting to my full assurance of the sympathy of our tastes and feelings, this would have completed my conviction. It struck me as the Virgilian lots formerly struck the superstitious. Our mutual admiration of the Paradise Lost, and of its heroine, seemed to bring us nearer together than we had yet been. Her remarks, which I gradually drew from her in thể course of our walk, on the construction of the fable, the richness of the imagery, the elevation of the language, the sublimity and just appropriation of the sentiments, the artful structure of the verse, and the variety of the characters, convinced me that she had imbibed her taste from the purest sources. It was easy to trace her knowledge of the best authors, though she quoted none.

'This,' said I exultingly to myself, is the true learning for a lady; a knowledge that is rather detected than displayed, that is felt in its effects on her mind and conversation; that is seen, not by her citing learned names, or adducing long quotations, but in the general result, by the delicacy of her taste, and the correctness of her sentiments.'

In our way home I made a merit with little Kate, not only by rescuing her hat from the hedge, but by making a little provision of wood under it, of larger sticks than she could gather, which she joyfully promised to assist the grand-daughter in carrying to the cottage.

I ventured, with as much diffidence as if I had been soliciting a pension for myseif, to entreat that I might be permitted to undertake the putting forward Dame Alice's little girl in the world, as soon as she shall be released from her attendance on her grandmother. My proposal was graciously accepted, on condition that it met with Mr. and Mrs. Stanley's approbation.

When we joined the party at supper, it was delightful to ob serve that the habits of religious charity were so interwoven with the texture of these girls' minds, that the evening which had been so interesting to me, was to them only a common evening, marked with nothing particular. It never occured to them to allude to it; and once or twice when I was tempted to mention it, my imprudence was repressed by a look of the most significant gravity from Lucilla.

I was comforted, however, by observing that my roses were transferred from the hat to the hair. This did not escape the penetrating eye of Phoebe, who archly said, 'I wonder, Lucilla, what particular charm there is in dame Alice's faded roses. I offered you some fresh ones since we came home. I never knew you

prefer withered flowers before.' Lucilla made no answer, but cast down her timid eyes, and out-blushed the roses on her head.

CHAP. XLII.

AFTER breakfast next morning the company all dropped off one after another, except Lady Belfield, Miss Stanley, and myself. We had been so busily engaged in looking over the plan of a conservatory, which Sir John proposed to build at Beachwood, his estate in Surry, that we hardly missed them.

Little Celia, whom I call the Rosebud, had climbed up my knees, a favourite station with her, and was begging me to tell her another pretty story. I had before told her so many, that I had exhausted both my memory and my imagination. Lucilla was smiling at my impoverished invention, when Lady Belfield was called out of the room. Her fair friend rose mechanically to follow her. Her ladyship begged her not to stir, but to employ the five minutes of her absence in carefully criticising the plan she held in her hand, saying, she would bring back another which Sir John had by him; and that Lucilla, who is considered as the last appeal in all matters of this nature, should decide to which the preference should be given, before the architect went to work.

In a moment I forgot my tale and my rosebud, and the conservatory, and every thing but Lucilla, whom I was beginning to address, when little Celia, pulling my coat said, Oh, Charles,' (for so I teach all the little ones to call me,) Mrs. Comfit tells me very bad news. She says that your new curricle is come down, and that you are going to run away. Oh! don't go; I can't part with you,' said the little charmer, throwing her arms round my neck.

Will you go with me, Celia?' said I, kissing her rosy cheek. There will be room enough in the curricle.'-Oh, I should like to go,' said she, if Lucilla may go with us. Do, dear Charles, do let Lucilla go to the Priory. She will be very good: won't you, Lucilla?' I ventured to look at Miss Stanley, who tried to laugh without succeeding, and blushed without trying at it.

6

On my making no reply, for fear of adding to her confusion, Celia looked up piteously in my face, and cried, And so you won't let Lucilla go home with you? I am sure the curricle will hold us all nicely; for I am very little, and Lucilla is not very big.' -Will you persuade her, Celia? said I,- O,' said she, she does not want persuading; she is willing enough, and I will run to papa and mamma and ask their leave, and then Lucilla will go and glad won't you, Lucilla?

So saying she sprung out of my arms, and ran out of the room;

Lucilla would have followed and prevented her. I respectfully de tained her. How could I neglect such an opportunity? Such an opening as the sweet prattler had given me it was impossible to overlook. The impulse was too powerful to be resisted; I gently replaced her on her seat, and in language which, if it did any jus tice to my feeling, was the most ardent, tender and respectful, poured out my whole heart. I believe my words were incoherent; I am sure they were sincere.

She was evidently distressed. Her emotion prevented her replying. But it was the emotion of surprise, not of resentment. Her confusion bore no symptom of displeasure. Blushing and hesitating, she at last said My father, Sir-my mother.'

her voice failed her. I recollected with joy, that on the applica tion of Lord Staunton, she had allowed of no such reference, nay she had forbidden it.

I take your reference joyfully,' said I, only tell me that if I am so happy as to obtain their consent, you will not withhold yours.' She ventured to raise her timid eyes to mine, and her modest but expressive look encouraged me almost as much as any words could have done.

At that moment the door opened, and in came Sir John with the other drawing of the conservatory in his hand. After having examined us both with his keen, critical eye; 'Well, Miss Stanley,' said he, with a look and tone which had more meaning than she could well stand, here is the other drawing. As you look as if you had been calmly examining the first, you will now give me your cool, deliberate opinion of the merits of both. He had the cruelty to lay so much stress on the words cool, calm and deliberate, and to pronounce them in so arch a manner, and so ironical a tone, as clearly shewed, he read in her countenance that no epithets could possibly have been so ill applied.

Lady Belfield came in immediately after. Well, Caroline,' said he, with a significant glance, Miss Stanley has deeply considered the subject since you went; I never saw her look more interested about any thing. I don't think she is dissatisfied on the whole. General approbation is all she now expresses. She will have time to spy out faults hereafter: she sees none at present. All is beauty, grace and proportion.

As if this was not enough, in ran Celia quite out of breath'Oh, Lucilla,' cried she, Papa and Mamma won't let you go with Charles, though I told them you begged and prayed to go.' Lu cilla, the pink of whose cheeks was become crimson, said angrily, 'how Celia! what do you mean?' 'Oh' no,' replied the child, 'I mean to say that I begged and prayed, and I thought you look. ed as if you would like to go-though Charles did not ask you, and so I told Papa.

This was too much. The Belfields laughed outright; but Lady

Belfield had the charity to take Lucilla's hand, saying, 'come into my dressing room, my dear, and let us settle this conservatory business. This prattling child will never let us get on.' Miss Stanley followed, her face glowing with impatience.-Celia, whom I detained, called after her Papa only said there was not room in the curricle for three, but if 'tis only a little way I am sure we could sit could not we, Lucilla?' Lucilla was now happily out of hearing.

Though I was hurt that her delicacy had suffered so much, yet I own I hugged the little innocent author of this confusion with additional fondness. Sir John's raillery, now that Lucilla could be no longer pained by it, was cordially received, or rather I was inattentive to every object but the one of which my heart was full. To be heard, to be accepted though tacitly, to be referred to parents who I knew had no will but hers,

Was such a sacred and homefelt delight,

Such suber certainty of waking bliss

As I ne'er felt till now.

During the remainder of the day I found no means of speaking to Mr. Stanley. Always frank and cheerful, he neither avoided nor sought me, but the arrival of company prevented our being thrown together. Lucilla appeared at dinner as usual: a little graver and more silent, but always unaffected, natural, and delicate. Sir John whispered to me, that she had intreated her mother to keep Celia out of the way, till this curricle business was a little got out of her head.

CHAP. XLIII.*

THE next morning, as soon as I thought Mr. Stanley had retreated to his library, I followed him thither. He was busy writing letters. I apologized for my intrusion. He laid his papers aside, and invited me to sit by him.

'You are too good, Sir,' said I, 'to receive with so much kind. ness a culprit who appears before you ingenuously to acknowledge the infraction of a treaty into which he had the honour of entering with you. I fear that a few days are wanting of my prescribed month. I had resolved to obey you with the most religious scrupulousness; but a circumstance trifling in itself has led almost irresistibly to a declaration, which in obedience to your commands I had resolved to postpone. But though it is somewhat premature, I hope, however, you will not condemn my precipitancy. I have ventured to tell your charming daughter how necessary she is to my happiness. She does not reject me. She refers ine to her father.'

You have your peace to make with my daughter, I can tell you, Sir,' said Mr. Stanley, looking gravely, I fear you have mortally offended her.' I was dreadfully alarmed. "You know not how you afflict me, Sir,' said I; 'how have I offended Miss Stanley?' 'Not Miss Stanley,' said he smiling, but Miss Cel Stanley, who extremely resents having been banished from

room yesterday evening.'

drawing.

If Celia's displeasure is all I have to fear, Sir, I am most fortunate. Ob, Sir, my happiness, the peace of my future life is in your hands. But first tell me you forgive the violation of my promise.'

I am willing to believe, Charles, replied he, that you kept the spirit of your engagement, though you broke it in the letter; and for an unpremeditated breach of an obligation of this nature, we must not, I believe, be too rigorous. Your conduct since your declaration to me, has confirmed the affection which your charact◄ er had before excited You were probably surprised and hurt at my cold reception of your proposal; a proposal which gave me a deeper satisfaction than I can express. Yet I was no dissembler in suppressing the pleasure I felt at an address so every way desi rable. My dear Charles, I know a little of human nature. I know how susceptible the youthful heart is of impressions. I know how apt these impressions are to be obliterated; a new face, a more advantageous connexion.' Hold, Sir,' said I, indignantly interrupting him, you cannot think so meanly of me. You cannot rate the son of your friend so low.'

I am very far indeed,' replied he, from rating you low. I know you abhor mercenary considerations; but I know also that you are a young man, lively, ardent, impressible. I know the rapid effect which leisure, retirement, rural scenes, daily opportunities of seeing a young woman not ugly, of conversing with a young woman not disagreeable, may produce on the heart, or ra ther on the imagination. I was aware that seeing no other, conversing with no other, none at least that, to speak honestly, I could consider as a fair competitor, harldly left you an unprejudi ced judge of the state of your own heart. I was not sure but that this sort of easy commerce might produce a feeling of complacency which might be mistaken for love. I could not consent that mere accident, mere leisure, the mere circumstance of being thrown together, should irrevocably entangle either of you I was desirous of affording you time to see, to know, and to judge. I would not take advantage of your first emotions. I would not take advantage of your friendship for me I would not take advantage of your feeling ardently, till I had given you time to judge temperately and examine fairly."

I assured him I was equally at a loss to express my gratitude of his kindness, and my veneration of his wisdom; and thanked him in terms of affectionate energy.