fortunate I entertain no great horror of a state of single blessedness."

66

Nay, nay, Helen!" trying to laugh the matter off as a jest, "we are not such very hard masters. You can have Dormer or me."

"And what would Robert say? Mr. Dormer I will not have, and I opine that you would not have me."

He coloured, and turned away to avoid her look. She was going, but he detained her.

"You do not really feel a-a-" he hesitated, "a penchant, or whatever it is to be called, for De Roos?"

"I never said I did; but I know not how you can expect to be my confidant."

"Perhaps I was presumptuous; but promise then to lend no favour to his suit."

"I am ashamed you should think_me capable of giving such a pledge. If I understand Mr. De Roos, he will never sue to me."

Alford shook his head, vexed and disappointed. "Others think differently."

"Time will show who thinks correctly; but these are conversations which ill suit my ideas of womanly delicacy." "Then you will say nothing to satisfy Dormer?"

"Mr. Dormer could never have presumed to send a message to me on such a subject; and from yourself you can say what you please."

"I have to tell him then anything but what pleases me, or will please him. He will be much grieved."

"I know of nothing which ought to grieve him."

"To tell you the whole truth then, he will never submit, with common patience to your union with De Roos."

"I never suspected Mr. Dormer of submitting with common patience to any thing he did not fancy!" she said indignantly; "and as a friend I bid you warn him that he has neither right nor power to interfere. Remember, I admit not the truth of the report, though I deem it right to check impertinence."

It was such a rare thing to see Helen ruffled, that Alford felt he must be in the wrong.

"I dare say you are right, dear Helen; but you must be generous, and forgive my anxiety for your happiness."

"And for your friend too?" extending her hand with a smile.

"Yes, but you must not blame him; with a more skilful mbassador, he would not have appeared to merit censure."

"I doubt that; but let me hear no more of such things: believe me, he cannot have a more sincere friend."

With this Alford was obliged to be content, as he felt a further urging would be useless, imprudent, and indelicate. "Now I recollect, I have a marvellously kind message from my wayward sister. She sends a thousand loves, and so forth; says she is quite recovered, and will help to entertain your guests to-morrow. She seems to have a wondrous loving fit all of a sudden! I hope it may last."

"It would be a libel on my perfections to doubt it."

THE day of the fête dawned, and it seemed as if Helen St. Maur were a prodigious favourite of Dame Nature's. It was a day of days! Not a cloud to frighten even the most fearful, and holiday dresses were donned without the slightest nervous dread lest they should be spoilt. It was neither too hot nor too cold; the old failed to anticipate coughs, and the young anticipated pleasures innumerable. A poetic fancy might have deemed that the trees, the flowers, the grass, "Earth, sky and water," were endowed with a brighter beauty in honour of the day. Even Mr. Dalton was less satirical, Mr. Carleton less pompous, and Lady Catharine Alford and Mr.

Robert Euston in good humour, at least for the first half hour. Amusements had been provided in the house, and out of the house nothing that could prevent weariness or dulness had been omitted. There were cricket, and bowls, and foot races, archery, and billiards, with prizes for the winners. The flower gardens were thrown open, and gayly decorated boats rode lightly at anchor, or skimmed gracefully over the placid lake, bearing a gay and joyous company. The rich and the poor mingled happily together; for the villagers of Hurlestone, ungalled by oppression, and unwounded by insolence, looked not with envy on the possessions of their su periors. The St. Maurs had ever been kind and liberal: faults they had had, but the poor had never been forgotten. The dependent and the protector had ever been bound together by ties of gratitude and sympathy..

Schools had been early established, not merely carried on by hirelings, but ever over-looked by the ladies of the family. Not exactly charity schools; for, fearful of destroying the independence and honest pride of the peasantry, payment was required from all admitted, and the parents supplied with the means, when needful. The cottages were made comfortable; their inhabitants taught to consider parish aid a disgrace, except to the aged or imbecile; every petition was listened to, if not complied with; work found to prevent idleness; and- -but why proceed? In a word, it was the beau ideal of a village, and Helen was idolized. We do not mean to say that Hurlestone was as free from noxious passions, as Ireland from noxious reptiles; but that the good so strongly preponderated, that the evil gave up the contest in despair, and the irreclaimably bad left it for some field of action better suited to their views. Helen was the life of all: she was every where, and every thing. Now condoling with the old; now hoping with the young; receiving the congratulations poured from all, with a tear or a smile, as fitted best. This was no splendid feast, no pompous pageant, no idle mockery; her own warm heart spread its bright glow over the whole scene; and it was this that made every thing about her so touching and so beautiful. There had been no needless expense: twining evergreens were the only ornaments, and there was a simple elegance in the whole, that suited well with the sylvan scene, the beautiful woods, and the noble-looking mansion. The most humble greeting met with a kindly answer: she knew all, and she asked for all, as if those spoken of were first and foremost in her thoughts.

All held themselves happy who could obtain even but one sweet look, and she passed among the crowd a something brighter than a smile, more touching than a tear. She annoyed none by awkward allusions, or still more awkward questions. She asked not a widow for her husband; an orphan for her parents; a childless mother for her family. To Alford's amusement and admiration, she remembered the genealogy of all the Betty Taylors, Sukey Smiths, and Kitty Tates in the county: at least, so he asserted.

Entering into no amusement herself, her presence gave fresh ardour to all; and, to please the players, her hand gave the prizes, with words so flattering to the victors and so consoling to the vanquished, that it was matter of doubt which was the most to be envied.

As Helen was passing from one group to another, and, for the first time that day alone, she was met by her cousin, looking chafed and vexed.

"Helen," he said hurriedly, "my place this day is by your side, and I leave it no more."

She looked her surprise.

"Indeed, but you must, dear Robert: I want you even now to go to the cricketers."

Then we go together. Even the women and children have it on their lips that you send me from you, whilst De Roos and his minion are ever by your side. You put me off by your fooling yesterday; but you shall not do so to-day." "What can you propose by this violence? and at such a time !"

He took no heed of her appeal, but looked fiercer than before; and she felt herself turning pale with fear.

"I assigned Mr. De Roos a more distant and busy employment than yourself, and-"

He interrupted her fiercely: "I want no explanation; we are together the rest of the day, and then let me see if De Roos or his beggarly minion, Elliott, dare approach."

Endeavouring to control her terror, she was on the point of assuming a commanding tone, as a desperate chance for maintaining peace, when a slight rustling among the shrubs caused her to turn, and there to her dismay stood Elliott himself close beside them, with a fire in his eye and a burning spot on his usually pale cheek, which too well attested that the conversation had been overheard. Trembling with agitation, her usual presence of mind for a time forsook her, and pale and speechless she leant against a tree, with only

power to turn an imploring look on Elliott-from her cousin. she had no hope.

The look was not in vain, though higher principles would, in a moment's space, have rendered it useless. Yet, outraged as he had been-for of all terms the "minion of De Roos" was the one he could least patiently brook-and quick as was his natural temper, passion could not be controlled without a struggle.

There stood the young men fronting each other-the flashing eye fixed on the flashing eye, yet without speaking or moving-and there leant Helen, still pale and speechless, with eyes fixed, and trembling frame, watching the slightest movement. Robert piqued himself on never having quailed beneath a look; and yet, after a few brief moments, his eye gazed less steadily, and even for an instant sought the ground. Nor was the look of his confronter without a change: the fiery glare of passion gradually calmed, and the gaze, though still intent, bespoke firm and high resolve rather than anger. Helen would have moved towards them, but she trembled too much to accomplish her wish. Her action attracted the attention of both, and in a moment Elliott was by her side, his arm offered for her support, and his looks expressing any thing but a hostile feeling. Robert advanced too, but, seeing himself anticipated, stood still with a sullen look and contracted brow.

"Fear nothing!" whispered her supporter, and then said aloud:

"Miss St. Maur is faint; will you assist me to aid her to that seat, and remain with her whilst I bring a glass of water?"

Mr. Euston gave his arm in silence; but the sight of her agitation, and the calm though proud tone of Mr. Elliott, had wrought a great change in his feelings and manner.

"I am better now," she said, as they led her into a rustic temple, and she saw Elliott about to depart. "It is best my guests should know nothing of this."

แ

Certainly.'

Some ornamental china of little value decorated the temple, and, snatching up a small cup, he left the place.

"Oh Robert! will you leave me no peace but in the grave?"

He turned and looked upon her. It was a strong expression-stronger than the occasion seemed to warrant; but the still deathlike paleness shocked and alarmed him, and per