sent. That individual was a Mr. Thornley, who had been the guest of Mr. Mackenzie for some weeks. Mr. Thornley was an Englishman, who was on a tour through the West India Islands. He had been in the Bahamas, and had brought a letter of introduction to Mr. Mackenzie from a particular friend of his there. A much slighter attestation of his respectability would have been quite sufficient to have secured Mr. Thornley every attention in the island of St. ;, indeed, had he come without any introduction at all, his gentlemanly appearance, and his being a stranger, would have recommended him to general hospitality. As it was, Mr. and Mrs. Mackenzie carried their guest everywhere, and gave many parties on his account. This gentleman had seemed much struck with Helen Ludlow, and his society seemed very agreeable to her. The fact of his being an Englishman was a strong recommendation to Helen; he was extremely handsome, which was not against him, and there was something of mystery about him which Helen could not fathom, and which tended to invest him with interest in her eyes. Thornley became excessively fidgety after the departure of Seymour, and Mrs. Mackenzie, pitying his uneasiness, started up in the midst of one of Florence's most elaborate performances, and loudly proclaimed her intention of seeking the fugitives. Florence, in a pet at the interruption, threw down the guitar, and nobody entreated her to resume it, the party seeming now more inclined to stroll about. Geraldine Montresor had spent the day very pleasantly; at table she had been placed between Mr. Fanshawe on one side, and a stranger of extremely agreeable manners on the other. This gentleman, Mr. Le Vasseur, held a lucrative office under the government. His family were of French extraction, and had possessed large estates in St. Domingo, from whence, at the destruction of the white inhabitants of that island, Mr. Le Vasseur's father had the good fortune to make his escape. His property in St. Domingo was lost to him, but he had a small plantation in Martinique, and having married a lady belonging to the island of St. whose connexions were English, one of his sons, Adolphe Le Vasseur, procured the appointment which he held in that island. Geraldine had seen Mr. Le Vasseur at two or three balls, but though he had always gazed at her with evident admiration, he was the only man of any standing in society in the room who had not sought an introduction to her. She felt a little piqued at his indifference towards making her acquaintance. She had first observed him at a ball given in honour of her arrival by the bachelors of the island, at which he was present as a guest, not as a subscriber. On that evening, when the gentlemen were crowding round her, Mr. Le Vasseur alone had kept at a distance. His graceful figure had first attracted her attention as he stood leaning against a pillar, gazing intently at herself. Wherever she moved his eye seemed to follow her, and more than once he came so near as to catch the sound of her voice. He did not dance. She remarked, too, that he spoke to none but married ladies, and of these only the elderly ones. Again she met him at a public ball, and he conducted himself in the same peculiar manner, paying silent homage, but seeking no communication with the object of his apparent admiration. Geraldine had thought a little more about her distant admirer and his odd behaviour than she would have cared to confess. With the true spirit of a woman, she would rather have made a conquest of him who seemed determined not to be conquered, than have accepted the devoirs of a dozen willing slaves; but at large assemblies she had no chance of making his acquaintance unless he pleased it himself, and at smaller and more select parties, to her surprise, she had never met him. It was with no small satisfaction, therefore, that she found he made one of Mrs. Orlando Fish's party at the maroon. On this day his indifference towards an introduction seemed to have left him, and he eagerly sought the earliest opportunity of being presented to her. Geraldine, accustomed as she was to attention, felt much flattered, and exerted herself to be as agreeable as possible. Mr. Le Vasseur seemed enchanted with her; he had eyes or ears for nobody else, and having secured a place by her side, he neither relinquished it during the morning's ramble nor during dinner, and so entirely engrossed her conversation, that she had' scarcely time to speak to any one else. When Mrs. Mackenzie, somewhat rudely, broke up the party, who were doing their duty by Florence O'Brien in solemnly listening to her singing, Le Vasseur was about to secure Geraldine as his partner during the stroll which everybody was preparing to take, but Mr. Fanshawe had "marked her for his own," and coming forward with a sort of glissade, he seized her hand, and drawing her arm through his with a "Permettez-moi," he carried her off with cruel disregard of her evident reluctance to go. "Mr. Fanshawe," said Mrs. Montresor, with a very gracious air, "do me the favour to show Geraldine the West India strawberry, The midnight flower That scorns the eye of vulgar light. I know she is anxious to see it, and you will find it not very far from this spot." "West India strawberry!" exclaimed Mr. Fanshawe, arresting his steps; "I did not know-you-a-you-had-a-strawberries in these islands." "Not such strawberries as you have in England," replied Mrs. Montresor ; "we can boast of nothing so good." "Our West India strawberry is a more dignified-looking plant than your English one; you need not go poking about on the ground in search of it," said Mrs. Mackenzie. "But, mamma," remonstrated Geraldine, "you have not deputed the most proper person to show me the night-blooming flower. Mr. Fanshawe, being a stranger, knows the plant no better than myself. We shall be like the blind leading the blind." 66 Oh, you cannot mistake it," said Mrs. Montresor; "it is not unlike the prickly pear; and at any rate you will have the amusement of looking for it." cr Prickly pear!" thought the puzzled Fanshawe. can that be ?" "What the deuce Mr. Le Vasseur came forward, and was about to speak, probably to offer his services in pointing out the stately flower in question; but Mrs. Montresor, pretending not to observe him, tapped Fanshawe on the shoulder with her fan, and admonished him and Geraldine to set off at once on their voyage of discovery, for it was getting too late to remain much longer in the open air. Le Vasseur quickly perceived that, however agreeable his company might be to the daughter, it was not agreeable to her mother that she should enjoy it, and he therefore immediately drew back. "Do you care to see this-a-this-a-stupid strawberry ?" demanded Fanshawe of his listless companion, as they walked on according to Mrs. Montresor's bidding. "Not particularly." "Then, 'pon my soul, I-a-I-a-don't think we need encounter all these horrid bushes," groaned poor Fanshawe, whose ungloved left hand had just come in contact with one of the prickly dry pods of the nickartree.* "Horrid bushes!" repeated Geraldine, who was a little out of humour at being sacrificed to Mr. Fanshawe. "I think the tropical trees and plants are beautiful. Look at the rich clusters of the sea-side grape,† with its thick broad leaf, and at yon pink cocoa-plum—what a delicate colour! yet these grow wild; no art forces them into luxuriance. Stop, let us gather some of these nickars; you have no idea how pretty they are when they are polished." "Really, I—I—a—can see nothing pretty here, but-a-but your fair self," lisped Mr. Fanshawe, with an insinuating smile.. "I am sorry you have so bad a taste," said Geraldine; "but, seriously, are you pleased with nothing in the West Indies ?" "Pleased!" ejaculated Fanshawe, with a melancholy look. "It is long-a-long-a-since I have been pleased with anything. Everything about me wearies me-a-sickens me. I wish I could-couldhave no sensations whatever-sleep always." "Indeed! You are very lazily inclined. But did you feel the same indifference to everything in England ?" "I am tired of the world," continued the exquisite, without noticing her question" tired of everything-bored by everything. What is life? Ah!" And he fetched a deep sigh. "Why, you are quite a misanthrope," said Geraldine, who could scarcely refrain from laughing, as she glanced at the unmeaning countenance before her, and bethought her that Fanshawe was repeating, like a parrot, words which he had heard uttered by some more intelligent being. "To tell you the truth," rejoined he, "I-a-I-a-am blasé with everything quite blasé." Every man at all comme il faut is blasé now-a-days," said Mrs. Temple, who, accompanied by Mr. Ludlow, Mr. Mackenzie, and two or three other persons, had approached in time to have the benefit of Fanshawe's last speech. "My dear Geraldine, this is the age of cant." "I thought cant applied only to affectation or hypocrisy in religious matters," said Geraldine, gladly turning to Mrs. Temple. "No; it has a much more extensive application. There are religious * Giulandina Bonducella. † Coccoloba Uvifera. Chrysobalanus Icaco. cant, literary cant, fashionable cant, musical cant, political cant, and cant of all sorts in abundance, and Britain was the birthplace of this hydraheaded monster." "You are not so partial to England, Mrs. Temple, as my daughter Helen is," remarked Mr. Ludlow. "I believe she carries her affection for it so far, that she would value a grain of English dust more than an ingot of Peruvian gold." "Then she possesses a feeling that is very un-English," said Mrs. Temple, in reply. "She ought rather to bow down before gold and worship it." 66 Oh, Mrs. Temple! you are too bad to call the English idolaters," cried Geraldine. "Whatever they may be," said Mr. Ludlow, warmly, "they are very unchristianlike in their conduct towards us. They are doing all that they can to ruin us, and, not content with that, they heap undeserved odium and contumely upon us. Let England take the beam out of her own eye before she attempts to take the motes out of other people's eyes. Let her look to her factories, her prison-poorhouses, her vast nests of unimaginable poverty, misery, and guilt, that accumulate in the very hearts of her most splendid cities; let her clean out her own Augean stables, and then it will be time enough for her to cast her restless eyes on countries far removed from her." "No, no, come now," said Mr. Mackenzie, "we must not speak or think so undutifully of our mother country. As they say in Scotland, 'England's bark is waur than her bite."" A 19 "I wish we belonged to your country, Mr. Fish; we should receive more justice at your hands," said Mr. Ludlow. "'Mericay would be a more natʼral protector for you, certainly," responded Mr. Fish; "but we don't want you; with so vast an extent of country as we have, embracing a large portion of the noo hemisphere, we don't need colonies, like England, to add to our greatness and power." Why, then, do you crave so to get hold of Cuba? You would seize her fast enough if you only had a decent pretext," said Mr. Mackenzie. 66 A political conversation ensued, which lasted, to the great disgust of Mr. Fanshawe, until Mrs. Montresor made her appearance, exhorting everybody to repair to the boats, when the party, taking her advice, speedily re-embarked, happily without any further adventures in the water. After a short row by moonlight, they reached in safety, and apparently in high spirits, the opposite shore, where carriages were in waiting to convey them to Mr. Ludlow's, at whose house the remainder of the evening was to be passed. 3 ས. THE evening at Clare Hall was to be spent by the young people in dancing, and in cards by those who liked them. The ladies were only in demi-toilette, but some of them thought fit to improve their appearance by adorning their hair with natural flowers. A vase of flowers in Helen's dressing-room was ransacked, and her black handmaidens were despatched to gather more from the pretty flower-garden that lay beneath her windows. "Helen, how pale you look!" exclaimed Florence, as she suddenly turned her eyes from the mirror in which she had been admiring her own image, while trying flowers of every hue in her hair. "Very pale! and what is the matter with your eyes? I declare you have been crying." 66 'Nonsense," said Helen, hastily; "it is the sea-breeze that has made my eyes look red, and you know I am always pale." "But the sea-breeze has made nobody's eyes look red except yours. You surely have been crying." "Look at your own eyes how red they are; positively they are fright ful," said Helen. "Red are they? Frightful? Good Heavens! do give me some rosewater, Fanchette," she exclaimed, turning to one of Helen's attendants, and forgetting her curiosity about Helen's crying in the horror of her own beauty being at all impaired. Fanchette supplied the rose-water, and Florence resumed the pleasing task of placing the most becoming flowers amidst the ringlets of her dark hair. "For whom are you making that bouquet of myrtle and jasmine, Geraldine ?" asked Mrs. Temple. “I think I shall give it to my exquisite friend Mr. Fanshawe. By the way, I don't think he will, in your hearing again, boast of being blasé, Mrs. Temple. You really were too hard on him, poor harmless creature!" "I own it provokes me to hear such men-things made up of froth and whalebone-talking as if they had deeply suffered from overwrought feelings. Every blockhead must needs be a Childe Harold, and pretend to exemplify those lines: He felt the fulness of satiety With pleasure drugg'd, he almost longed for woe, And e'en, for change of scene, would seek the shades below. If their doom were in my hands I would condemn them to purgatory, at least, for their odious affectation." "You had better," said Geraldine, laughing, "like Milton, condemn them to be Upwhirl'd aloft, O'er the back side of the world far off, thus, in the midst of justice, remembering mercy." The black musicians had now commenced their operations in "the hall," as the largest sitting-room in a West India house is generally denominated, and the sprightly violin and deafening triangle (an instrument dear to negro musicians) were summoning the dancers to the business of the evening. Geraldine's hand for the first quadrille was claimed by the persevering Mr. Fanshawe, to whom she had rashly promised it in the morning, and whom she was very much inclined to wish either in purgatory or in limbo; but for the first waltz she was engaged to Mr. Le Vasseur, who on this occasion seemed to have surmounted his disinclination to dancing. They both waltzed well, and excited much admiration in those who were looking on. During one of the pauses which they occasionally made, |