sparing Isabel, proceeded to introduce himself. Isabel had just presence of mind left to name her 66 : Lady Mount Severn." "I am sorry that Lord Mount Severn should be absent, to whom I have the honour of being known," he said. "I am Mr. Carlyle."

"I have heard of you," replied her ladyship, scanning his good looks, and feeling cross that his homage should be given where she saw it was given, but I had not heard that you and Lady Isabel Vane were on the extraordinary terms of intimacy that-that-"

66

"Madam," he interrupted, as he handed a chair to her ladyship and took another himself, we have never yet been on terms of extraordinary intimacy. I was begging the Lady Isabel to grant that we might be: I was asking her to become my wife."

The avowal was as a shower of incense to the countess, and her ill humour melted into sunshine. It was a solution to her great difficulty, a loophole by which she might get rid of her bête noire, the hated Isabel. A flush of gratification lighted her face, and she became full of graciousness to Mr. Carlyle.

"How very grateful Isabel must feel to you," quoth she. "I speak openly, Mr. Carlyle, because I know that you were cognisant of the unprotected state in which she was left by the earl's improvidence, putting marriage for her, at any rate a high marriage, nearly out of the question. East Lynne is a beautiful place, I have heard."

"For its size it is not large," replied Mr. Carlyle, as he rose for Isabel had also risen and was coming forward.

"And pray what is Lady Isabel's answer ?" quickly asked the countess, turning to her.

Not to her did Isabel condescend to give an answer, but she approached Mr. Carlyle, and spoke in a low tone.

"Will you give me a few hours for consideration ?"

"I am only too happy that you should accord it consideration, for it speaks to me of hope," was his reply, as he opened the door for her to pass out. I will be here again this afternoon."

It was a perplexing debate that Lady Isabel held with herself in the solitude of her chamber, whilst Mr. Carlyle touched upon ways and means to Lady Mount Severn. Isabel was little more than a child, and as a child she reasoned, looking neither far nor deep: the shallow, palpable aspect of affairs alone presenting itself to her view. That Mr. Carlyle was not of rank equal to her own, she scarcely remembered: East Lynne seemed a very fair settlement in life, and in point of size, beauty, and importance, it was superior to the home she was now in. She forgot that her position at East Lynne as Mr. Carlyle's wife, would not be what it had been as Lord Mount Severn's daughter; she forgot that she would be tied to a quiet home, shut out from the great world, the pomps and vanities to which she was born. She liked Mr. Carlyle much, she liked to be with him, she experienced pleasure in conversing with him; in short, but for that other ill-omened fancy which had crept over her, there would have been a danger of her falling in love with Mr. Carlyle. And oh! to be removed for ever from the bitter dependence on Lady Mount Severn-East Lynne would in truth, after that, seem what she had called it, Eden. 49

"So far it looks favourable," mentally exclaimed poor Isabel, "but May-VOL. CXIX. NO. CCCCLXXIII.

H

there is the other side of the question. It is not only that I do not love Mr. Carlyle, but I fear I do love, or very nearly love, Francis Levison, I wish he would ask me to be his wife!or that I had never seen him.'

Isabel's soliloquy was interrupted by the entrance of Mrs. Levison and the countess. What the latter had said to the old lady to win her to the cause, was best known to herself, but she was eloquent in it. They both used every possible argument to induce her to accept Mr. Carlyle: the old lady declaring she had never been introduced to any one she was so much taken with (and Mrs. Levison was incapable of asserting what was not true); that he was worth a dozen empty-headed men of the great world.

Isabel listened, now swayed one way, now the other, and when afternoon came, her head was aching with perplexity. The stumbling-block that she could not get over was Francis Levison. She saw Mr. Carlyle's approach from her window, and went down to the drawing-room, not in the least knowing what her answer was to be: a shadowy idea was presenting itself that she would ask him for longer time, and write her

answer.

In the drawing-room was Francis Levison, and her heart beat wildly: which said beating might have convinced her that she ought not to marry

another.

"Where have you been hiding yourself ?" cried he. "Did you of our mishap with the pony carriage ?"

No," was her answer,

hear

"I was driving Emma into town. The pony took fright, kioked, plunged, and went down upon his knees: she took fright in her turn, got out, and walked back. So I gave the brute some chastisement and a race, and brought him to the stables, getting home in time to be introduced to Mr. Carlyle. He seems an out-and-out good fellow, Isabel, and I congratulate you."

"What!" she uttered.

"Don't start. We are all in the family, and my lady told me: I won't betray it abroad. She says East Lynne is a place to be coveted: I wish you happiness, Isabel."

"Thank you," she returned, in a sarcastic tone, though her throat beat and her lips quivered. "You are premature in your congratulations, Captain Levison."

I

"Am I? Keep my good wishes, then, till the right man comes. am beyond the pale myself, and dare not think of entering the happy state," he added, in a pointed tone. "I have indulged dreams of it, like others, but I cannot afford to indulge them seriously: a poor man, with uncertain prospects, can only play the butterfly, perhaps to his life's end."

He quitted the room as he spoke. It was impossible for Isabel to misunderstand him, but a feeling shot across her mind, for the first time, that he was false and heartless. One of the servants appeared, showing in Mr. Carlyle: nothing false or heartless about him. He closed the door, and approached her, but she did not speak, and her lips were white and trembling. Mr. Carlyle waited.

"Well ?" he said, at length, in a gentle tone. "Have you decided to grant my prayer ?""

"Yes. But-" She could not go on.

What with one agitation and another, she had difficulty in conquering her emotion, "But-I was going to tell you

"Presently," he whispered, leading her to a sofa; "we can both afford to wait now. Oh, Isabel, you have made me very happy!"

66

"I ought to tell you, I must tell you," she began again, in the midst of hysterical tears, Though I have said yes to your proposal, I do not-yet-It has come upon me by surprise," she stammered. "I like you very much; I esteem and respect you: but I do not yet love you."

"I should wonder if you did. But you will let me earn your love, Isabel."

"Oh yes,” she earnestly answered. "I hope so."

He drew her closer to him, bent his face, and took from her lips his first kiss. Isabel was passive: she supposed he had gained the right to "My dearest! it is all I ask."

do so.

Mr. Carlyle stayed over the following day, and before he departed in the evening, arrangements had been discussed. The marriage was to take place immediately: all concerned had a motive for hurrying it on. Mr. Carlyle was anxious that the fair flower should be his; Isabel was sick of Castle Marling, sick of some of the people in it; my lady was sick of Isabel. In less than a month it was to be, and Francis Levison sneered over the "indecent haste." Mr. Carlyle wrote to the earl, and Lady Mount Severn announced that she should present Isabel with the trousseau, and wrote to London to order it. It is a positive fact that when he was taking leave of her she clung to him.

"I wish I could take you now, my darling!" he uttered. bear to leave you here."

"I wish you could!" she sighed. side of Lady Mount Severn."

"I cannot

"You have seen only the sunny

II.

MR. DILL'S SHAKING.

THE sensations of Mr. Carlyle when he returned to West Lynne were very much like those of an Eton boy, who knows he has been in mischief, and dreads detection. Always open as to his own affairs, for he had nothing to conceal, he yet deemed it expedient to dissemble now. He felt that his sister would be bitter at the prospect of his marrying; instinct had taught him that, years past; and he believed that, of all women, the most objectionable to her would be Lady Isabel, for Miss Carlyle looked to the useful, and had neither sympathy nor admiration for the beautiful. He was not sure but she might be capable of endeavouring to frustrate the marriage, should news of it reach her ears, and her indomitable will had carried many strange things in her life: therefore you will not blame Mr. Carlyle for observing entire reticence as to his future plans.

A family of the name of Carew had been about taking East Lynne: they wished to rent it, furnished, for three years. Upon some of the

minor arrangements they and Mr. Carlyle were opposed, but the latter declined to give way. During his absence at Castle Marling, news had arrived from them-that they acceded to all his terms, and would enter upon East Lynne as soon as was convenient. Miss Carlyle was full of congratulation; it was off their hands, she said: but the first letter Mr. Carlyle wrote was-to decline them. He did not tell this to Miss Carlyle. The final touches to the house were given, preparatory to the re ception of its inhabitants, three maid and two men servants hired and sent there, upon board wages, until the family should arrive.

One evening, three weeks subsequent to Mr. Carlyle's visit to Castle Marling, Barbara Hare called at Miss Carlyle's, and found them going to tea, much earlier than usual.

"We dined earlier," said Miss Corny, "and I ordered tea in as soon as the dinner went away. Otherwise Archibald would have taken none." "I am as well without tea," said he. "And I have a mass of business to get through yet."

1

"You are not as well without it," cried Miss Corny, "and I don't choose that you should go without it. Take off your bonnet, Barbara. He does things like nobody else: he is off to Castle Marling to-morrow, and never could open his lips till just now that he was going."

"Is that invalid-Brewster, or what his name is laid up at Castle Marling still?" exclaimed Barbara.

"He is there still," said Mr. Carlyle.

Barbara sat down to the tea-table, though protesting that she ought not to remain, for she had told her mamma she should be home to make tea. Miss Carlyle interrupted what she was saying, by telling her brother she should go presently and pack his things.

"Oh no," returned he, with alarming quickness, "I will pack them myself, thank you. Peter, you can put the portmanteau in my room. The large one.

"The large one!" echoed Miss Corny, who never could let anything pass without her interference, "why, it's as big as a house. What in the world can you want, dragging that with you?"

"I have papers and things to take, besides clothes."

"I am sure I could pack all your things in the small one," persisted Miss Corny. "I'll try. You only tell me what you want put in. Take the small portmanteau to your master's room, Peter."

Mr. Carlyle glanced at Peter, and Peter glanced back again with an imperceptible nod. "I prefer to pack my things myself, Cornelia. What have done you

now ?"

"A stupid trick," she answered-for, in fidgeting with a knife, Miss Corny had cut her finger. "Have you any sticking-plaster, Archibald ??' He opened his pocket-book, and laid it on the table while he took from it some black plaster. Miss Carlyle's inquisitive eyes caught sight of a letter lying there; sans cérémonie, she stretched out her hand, caught it up, and opened it.

"Who is this from? It is a lady's writing."

Mr. Carlyle laid his hand flat upon it, as if to hide it from her view. "Excuse me, Cornelia; that is a private letter."

"Private nonsense!" retorted Miss Corny; "I am sure you get no letters that I may not read. It bears yesterday's postmark."

"Oblige me with the letter," he returned; and Miss Carlyle, in her astonishment at the calmly authoritative tone, yielded it to him.

"Archibald, what is the matter with you ?"

"Nothing," answered he, shutting the letter in the pocket-book, and returning it to his pocket, leaving out the sticking-plaster for Miss Corny's benefit. "It's not fair to look into a man's private letters, is it, Barbara ?"

He laughed good humouredly as he looked at Barbara. But she had seen with surprise that a deep flush of emotion had risen to his face-he, so calm a man! Miss Carlyle was not one to be put down easily, and she returned to the charge.

Archibald, if ever I saw the Vane crest, it is on the seal of that

letter."

"Whether it is the Vane crest on the letter, or any other, the contents of it were written for my eye alone," he rejoined. And, somehow, Miss Carlyle did not like the firm tone. Barbara broke the silence.

"Shall you
call on the Mount Severns this time?"
"Probably," he answered.

"Do they talk yet of Lady Isabel's marrying?" pursued Barbara. "Did you hear anything of it ?"

"I cannot charge my memory with all I heard or did not hear, Barbara. Your tea wants more sugar, does it not?"

"A little," she answered, and Mr. Carlyle drew the sugar-basin towards her cup, and dropped four or five large lumps in, before anybody could stop him.

What's that for ?" asked Miss Corny.

He burst out laughing. "I forgot what I was doing. Really, Barbara, I beg your tea's pardon. Cornelia will give you another cup. "But it's a cup of tea and so much good sugar wasted," tartly responded Miss Corny.

Barbara sprang up the moment tea was over. "I don't know what mamma will say to me. And it is beginning to grow dusk! She will think it is late for me to be out alone."

"Dill is wait

"Archibald can walk with you," said Miss Carlyle. "I don't know that," cried he, in his plain, open way. ing for me in the office, and I have some hours' work before me. However I suppose you won't care to put up with Peter's attendance; so make haste with your bonnet, Barbara."

No need to tell Barbara that, when the choice between him and Peter depended on the speed she should make. She wished good evening to Miss Carlyle, and went out with him, he taking her parasol from her hand. It was a calm, lovely night, very light yet, and they took the field

way.

Barbara could not forget Isabel Vane. She never had forgotten her, or the jealous feeling that arose in her heart at Mr. Carlyle's constant visits to East Lynne when she inhabited it. She returned to the subject

now.

"I asked you, Archibald, whether you had heard that Lady Isabel was likely to marry.'

"And I answered you, Barbara that my memory could not carry all I may have heard."