of all the gentlemen, and more particularly by the grave and observant attention of the handsome stranger, that these remonstrances only added zest to all she said. Meantime, the object of her ridicule, in making an effort to escape beyond reach of observation, started up, but on attempting hastily to glide past the tittering group, he struck his arm against a splendid scarlet heath, which was instantly precipitated on the ground, and its brilliant blossoms scattered in every direction. Matilda instinctively started forward, with a vain attempt to save it, and eagerly assisted the un fortunate author of this unforeseen calamity, to raise the prostrate plant, and to gather the broken fragments of the flower-pot. At this moment Lady Amelia Douglas advanced with smiling cordiality to where Lady Barnard remained in silent weariness, gazing at a scene which it was impossible for her to enjoy, and longing to retire, when the whole gay pageant should be ended, and when she might again have Matilda's consoling attentions, which even now, she was half angry to find remitted.

“Where are my two young beauties!" exclaimed Lady Amelia. I long to introduce Sir Alfred to them both; but what is the matter here? you have met with a catastrophe, Miss Howard!"

"It was certainly very unfortunate, but the stem is not injured, I believe," replied Matilda, anxiously examining the plant. "I am sorry to say though, that there are some sad fractures and contusions among the branches, which will make amputation necessary, you see upon this side."

"Allow me to perform the operation, then," said Sir Alfred Douglas, approaching with a peculiar degree of grace. "Perhaps Miss Howard will do my friend Leicester the honour to wear this trophy of his achievement."

As Sir Alfred Douglas presented Matilda with a brilliant cluster of scarlet blossoms, a smile glittered for a moment in his dark eye, and gleamed like sunshine over his

handsome countenance, but he instantly relapsed into the grave and almost stern expression which his features usually wore. A lovely blush glowed upon the young and beautiful face of our heroine, as she looked up with sudden surprise at this unexpected action of Sir Alfred's, and as she accepted the offered flower with modest grace, the long silken fringes which shadowed her brilliant eyes, could not entirely conceal the gratification and pleasure which she felt, though a sensation of embarrassment at the moment deprived her of utterance, and left all she felt, to be read in her expressive countenance.

"Do let me have a cutting from that lovely heath also!” exclaimed Eleanor, starting forward. "I doat upon flowers, so pray give me this beautiful branch to enliven my bouquet."

Sir Alfred Douglas did not appear conscious that these words were addressed to himself, but silently transferring his pruning-knife to Mr. Grant, who eagerly seized it, he strolled off in another direction, without casting a glance towards Eleanor's supplicating attitude, whose whole expression instantly changed to a look of anger and mortification, when her eye followed his retreating figure till he disappeared into a distant grove of trees.

"Might I be permitted to present Miss Fitz-Patrick with this," said Mr. Leicester, in the softest tones of a peculiarly pleasing voice. "I think that in a certain fairytale with which we seem all familiar, it would have been my privilege to present the beautiful heroine with a flower, and to have been immediately afterwards transformed into a perfect Adonis.”

Eleanor was covered with confusion to find that she had been overheard, and felt for the first time in her life at a loss for an answer.

"That transformation," she stammered out at last,

was

I have no doubt, the mere effect of an agreeable manner, as one would never think of criticising those they like.”

"You are not perhaps aware, that in the Mediterranean fleet, a medal is awarded every year to the ugliest person there, Miss Fitz-Patrick, and the competition for that prize is as keen as for any other distinction," continued Mr. Leicester, in a tone of good humoured raillery." I had very nearly become a candidate myself, when Sir Alfred and I were last in that direction, and perhaps if you will warrant success I may venture it yet."

"No! no!" replied Eleanor, trying to laugh off the awkwardness of her situation. "I rather begin to suspect you are like Wilkes, who boasted that a handsome man never had above ten minutes the start of him in any person's estimation, so let this beautiful sprig of heath serve as an olive branch between us, and pray forget all heard to-night that you ought not to have done.”

you have

The sound of a gong having summoned all the party to a dejeuné in the tents, Mr. Leicester offered his arm to Matilda, who found herself seated, some minutes afterwards, between him and Sir Alfred Douglas. The conversation which ensued was animated and interesting to such a degree, that time flew rapidly past, unnoticed by any one of the trio, till at length Eleanor hastily summoned Matilda to follow, as Lady Barnard's carriage was waiting, and their chaperon herself was in agonies of weariness, and impatient to get home.

"What a tiresome day we have had!" exclaimed Eleanor, throwing herself peevishly back in the carriage. "I always hate morning parties, they are so very long and tedious !"

"Do you think so?" exclaimed her astonished auditor. "I never enjoyed any thing so much in my life!-the music, the plants, and the people were all delightful."

"That is because you know nothing better," replied Eleanor, sharply. "I observed you talking prodigiously to Mr. Leicester, and that sublime looking personage

Sir Alfred Douglas, who seems the most proud, arrogant, self-sufficient, and disagreeable of human beings. He looks as if his very shadow durst not follow him. I really pitied you for being placed near him, though I guess your conversation was like the handle of a jug, all on one side.”

"I found no cause to regret my seat," said Matilda. "Both Sir Alfred and his friend seem to be very agreeable, and though I took little part in the conversation myself, I have seldom heard one better supported."

"Matilda! all your geese are swans," interrupted Eleanor, angrily," you praise every body and every thing, which is the most tiresome fault a person can have! I dare say you admire Sir Alfred's frown, and Mr. Leices→

ter's red hair."

"You know Queen Mary wore a red wig, and no one was more admired in her day," said Matilda, in a jocular

tone.

"It does not signify what Queen Mary did, for people were no judges of beauty so long ago," replied Eleanor, conceitedly. "I have never seen a picture of her yet that I could wish to resemble. How astonished Captain Foley was, to hear that I had never sat to Colvin Smith yet but I must really speak to mama about it tomorrow."

"Well," said Matilda, "I would rather have people surprised that my picture was not taken, than wondering why it was, which would be the case, if I did sit probably."

"Very possibly it might!" replied Eleanor, laughing. "You know, Matilda, that young ladies are divided into only two classes in the whole world; those who are admired, and those who are not admired, so let us each judge for ourselves which we belong to."

"Are we the best judges," asked Matilda,

summon a jury of our equals."

"That could not be found," said Eleanor.

or

shall we

CHAPTER XII.

The broad unfeeling mirth that folly wears,
Less pleases far than virtue's very tears.

"BARBARA!" said Sir Francis, one day, with assumed gravity, when he and Lady Howard were calling at Ashgrove. "Barbara, I do not think our friend Miss Rachel Stodart has published anything new lately. I am afraid she is growing lazy at her pen!"

"That would be a subject of sincere lamentation to many," replied Miss Neville, bridling, " and it would be well for some people if they would study her works more than they do."

"I am waiting for the complete edition, with her portrait as a frontispiece, which is sure to come out as soon as she wipes her pen for good," answered Sir Francis. "But, Barbara! I have been thinking whether Miss Rachel Stodart could possibly be prevailed on to shew herself for a night at Maria's conversazioné next Tuesday. We are sadly in want of a new lion. Lady Jenning's two novels are beginning to be forgotten now, and nobody will read Mrs. Dawson's poetry any longer, but I could answer for your friend having a run for the night, with all the help that we could give her!"

"Miss Rachel Stodart only goes into society where she is sure of being appreciated," answered Miss Neville, angrily.

"Well! could any thing show a higher estimate of her than my proposal," continued Sir Francis, with a look of naiveté; "Sir Colin Fletcher I could depend upon, for showing her about the whole evening. By the bye, Maria!