a silver arrow, to a button-hole of the old coat, and spoke most graciously; reminding him that if he won in the next contest it would be for him to give the prize; and he answered in a modest but earnest tone, "May good fortune still favour me." Mr. Mainwaring had entered the circle, and now stood beside the Lady Arabella, who accosted him thus "Arden, I have been looking for you there, among the riders. Where have you been? You must show what you can do. Here's Mrs. Loftus wants to see a good archer, and has had none to satisfy her yet; have you, Lucretia?" "Oh! yes indeed. I think it's beautiful; but I should of course-" "Of course you would like to see something better. Besides, either that fat man or that long boy will be coming to offer his notable self as partner to Althea if he wins the wreath, and one or other will win it. My life! how that black horse capers! Come Arden; don't be ridiculous !" "I should feel quite delighted to save my cousin the infliction of a partner she disliked; but I am so confident Mr. Brancher is a favourite of hers. Indeed no one could doubt it, who saw the grace with which she delivered to him the prize; and I would on no account interfere with the good man's enjoyment." "How can you be so ridiculous ?-nonsense! -she must not dance with him, nor that long lad neither. Good gracious, do you see that black horse dancing? Who is the lady? I don't know her. Who is she, Caroline?" This was addressed to the young lady who had professed to know everybody. "A black horse? I cannot see from where I What is she like, Mr. Mainwaring? Is she old or young, dark or fair ?" am. 66 Young, with dark eyes and hair, Miss French." "Aye? I know. It's that girl from the place that was robbed. She's a sort of Joan of Arc." "What, old Wainwright's daughter?" said Lady Arabella; "old Wainwright was almost dead for love of me when I was a girl, Miss French; and I can tell you there's not a handsomer man here to-day than old Wainwright was forty years ago. Old Wainwright's daughter!" Give my "His grand-daughter," said Miss French. "Go and fetch her, somebody. She rides beautifully. We'll have her here. I want to look at her. Arden, do you go. compliments, and request her to dismount and come to me. She will think I am frightened for her, but I am not; I see she knows how to ride. Her mother-her grandmother, I meanwas a poor creature, and I never heard anything of her child. Oh! yes, now I remember; she showed all the spirit she had in running away to get married. Whom was she married to, Caroline?" "Somebody named Dalziel. A gipsy perhaps. This girl looks like them." "Nonsense, my dear; it's the Wainwright eye she has, I'll be bound. The Wainwrights Caroline, were renowned for their fine black eyes and strong wills. There was one, a sister of my beau's, a beautiful, dashing woman. She had a fall in hunting, and died the year before I was presented; injured her spine-that was it. She lingered some time, and, I think let me see-yes-it was my spending so much time with her made that fool fall in love with me. Not that he was such a fool neither, though he was twice my age. He was a handsome fellow, and well received everywhere. But he moped because I said him nay; went out of society; then married, and took to making money out of Gatton Marsh. Cardington says he's a Croesus. Well, who was this Dalziel ?" "A soldier who fell in India," said a voice I recognised as that of Mr. Ainslie. "Oh! Mr. Ainslie, you there? Did you know him? What was he in the army then? Though of course it does not signify, whatever he was, if he was killed in the service, a soldier's daughter is to be respected. Is she coming? We are going to have her here-I am going to get her a partner." "I have been longing for an introduction, Lady Arabella," said the officer. "We have been talking of her at Lancaster. Upon my word I think she's a heroine! I do indeed!" Servants now bringing in refreshments, I lost the thread of discourse. I perceived, however, just as Helen was entering, that the old lady, with a glass of wine in her hand, was endeavouring, assisted by Mrs. Loftus, to inform Mr. Long of the circumstances of the robbery at Darliston. I could not distinguish their words, but the gentleman's voice being a powerful one, I plainly heard him enquiring, "Did she shoot any of them?" at that moment Helen arrived beside the Lady Arabella's chair. By the flush on her face, and the haughty expression there, I read that she was indignant at being sent for to be looked at as in a show. It was not, however, the stern gloomy look I had seen her face wear ere now. Excitement, and the pleasure of the day, had raised her spirit from depression. "Kitty Wainwright over again!" cried the old lady, with a stare not very reassuring. "My dear, you are not a bit like your mother. You only want to be taller to be like your aunt Kitty. But may-be you'll grow. How old are you? Don't like to tell?-whisper." Helen said plainly enough-"I am nineteen." “And did you kill any of those burglars? Mrs. Loftus says you did. Your Aunt Kitty would have shot them like weasels; I know she would! Come, tell me all about it. I want to know what you did." "The Lancashire Mercury gave a very correct report," Helen said. "I do not know that there is anything more to relate worthy your ladyship's attention." Miss French tittered. "Just like your Aunt Kitty!" again said Lady Arabella. "You couldn't get her to talk before you knew her! I wish you would all Alfred Merrivale had possession of the field at once, Mr. Brancher having declined further contest. The good man I heard had a sick wife at home, and was content to take her the trophy he had won. Until Mr. Mainwaring stepped down, it seemed likely Alfred would hold his ground. I felt sympathy for him; but, as he had already won marked success, I was certainly desirous Helen should he graced with the wreath. sit down. Here are the people coming on again; | Ainslie. He caught the intimation in a modo mind them, and let me have a quiet talk with ment, and with prompt kindness made his way Miss Wainwright - Darsell - Dalzell. Mr. to the point of danger, and engaged Miss French Travers, I will introduce you by-and-bye. Miss in conversation. Dalzell, you are going to dance, of course; I'll engage you plenty of partners. You must tell Mr. Wainwright I took care of you. How is he? Quite an old man by this time? I'm an old woman myself, and he is many years older than me. Where's Arden? Arden, you must go and shoot, or Mrs. Loftus and I won't forgive you. You will have a wreath to give to somebody. Here's Miss Dalzell wants to have it; don't you, my dear? Oh! that's nonsense, of course you do—now you're blushing! You are quite a heroine you know, and ought to have it. Arden, go down and win the wreath, and you shall give it to Miss Dalzell. She ought to have something given her in public for encountering the Black Band. Thank you, Arden; go, there's a dear boy!" "I shall very willingly obey your behest, mamma; and, if I can obtain it, place the wreath at Miss Dalziel's feet. But first let me offer her a chair." "Yes, yes; there Miss Dalziel, sit down. You can look at what is going on, and talk to me at the same time." Although attentive to this discourse, I was also in some degree observant of its effect on the fair queen. With such a light as I possessed in regard to the state of affairs between the lady and her cousin, it was interesting to me to consider what her feelings might bewhether the sort of homage involved in the intended presentation to Helen at all affected her. She said nothing, however, only inclining her head with a gracious smile when Helen took the chair provided, as if to welcome her to the rather prominent position she was invited to occupy. Miss French however, I perceived, took more vivid interest in the matter, and by the expression of her face, and some whispered words to the Lady Althea, I conjectured that, like my young cousin Laura, she might be inclined to resent in Mr. Mainwaring what looked like indifference to the favours of the lady of the castle. Mr. Ainslie stood beside me, and in a low voice asked if I thought Miss Dalziel was likely to be distressed by being brought so forward. In reply, I said it was no doubt a trial, but I supposed it would not much mar her enjoyment; and that I was glad she was invited to join in the dance. 66 Yes, she dances well," he observed, " and will not have need to say much. She seems to get on well with Lady Arabella, I think," he added. Miss French had changed her position, and with an appearance of care for the old lady, was folding a shawl around her. I saw she wished to enter into the conversation going on between them. I felt a dread of Miss French. Quick-witted, keenly-observant I perceived she was, and, I feared, not favourable to my young friend. Something of this I hinted to Mr. Six arrows were allotted to each. Already, in an encounter with Mr. Long, Alfred had scored well, and it was for a new aspirant to do better, before he would be called upon to try his skill again. Some six or eight had tried in vain to surpass him, and a sensation was evident among the crowd on the terrace, and the more distant spectators below, when young Mainwaring took aim. Each time his success was so marked as to elicit applause. Perhaps he was favoured on other accounts, though it seemed to my unskilled eyes that he shot beautifully. I heard someoneabout me say, “that lad Merrivale will retire at once if he is wise. He will never beat that!" Alfred was not inclined to give in, however, without trying his best; and he did well, but not better than before. The wreath was lifted by Arden Mainwaring, and, as he had said, placed at the feet of Miss Dalziel. "Take off your hat, my dear," said the old lady; "I must crown you." She Helen has since told me she tried hard to speak some thanks, but only murmured. knelt to Lady Arabella, who, in impatience at some little difficulty in taking off the hat, lent her assistance so hastily, that the net confining her hair was carried away with it, and her brown locks fell streaming over her shoulders. With a momentary impulse she hid her face on the old lady's knee; and then, ashamed of her familiarity, pleased by the honour done her, and at the same time tickled by the idea of her disarray, she raised a glowing, smiling face, and with the silver leaves shining in her luxuriant hair, she looked-well, I thought she looked downright lovely; and it could not be all partiality, for I heard one gentleman, Mr. Travers, I think, invoke Jupiter to witness she was divine; and all of them warmly supported Lady Arabella, when she protested the arrangement of the wreath could not have been more successful if it had been studied. Helen, looking towards me, requested her friend Mrs. Gainsborough might be allowed to give her some assistance in binding up her bair, but Mrs. Gainsborough was in no hurry to come forward, and her request was cried down. I understand the general impression on the terrace was that the wreath would have been offered to the Lady Althea. That such was not the case was soon known; but Helen's place | Now, it occurred to me to think if the poor lad could be in danger from the coquetry of one so far above him. I looked with interest at them both. He did seem rather too much in earnest. Helen entered: her hair had been nicely arranged by Lady Arabella's maid, and I cannot say how much pleasure I felt in seeing her, bright and happy, led out by her distinguishedlooking partner. Some not very sweet voice near me observed that Helen was evidently a thorough country girl, and it was a pity her being a good deal concealed by the drapery, great curiosity was excited as to who was its possessor. They had not long to wait. The queen of the revels passed out, attended by her ladies; then followed Lady Arabella Mainwaring and her son, with Helen between them. Mr. Ainslie took me out, leading me to a sort of garden-court opening on the terrace. Further than this I hesitated to proceed: my friend, however, assured me the castle was thrown open to all the terrace visitors, and reminded me that Miss Dalziel was still under ny chaperon-head should be turned; but I did not fear this age, and that probably Lady Arabella Mainwaring might soon feel fatigue, and retire. "Your young friend comports herself admirably," he said; "but as this is the first occasion of her appearing in an assemblage of the kind, it is very desirable you should be near her, not only to ward off any disagreeable intrusion, but to encourage her. I have seen her look towards" down the middle" retired and gave room for you many times." I entered therefore where Helen bad preceded, but did not see her in the room. Mr. Mainwaring came to me, offering some refreshments, and this made me feel more at ease. I learned too from him that Miss Dalziel had succeeded in persuading Lady Arabella the arrangement of her hair was not convenient for dancing, and that they had retired together. The wind had risen to a breeze, and as I declined taking part in the dance, the young gentleman kindly placed me a chair near one of the large windows, whence I could witness it in comfort. The Lady Althea was in the room, and seemed for the time to have cast off her queenship. I heard she had sent a messenger to young Merrivale, to require him as her partner. Although there was nothing actually ill-natured in the jokes and laughing speeches about him, I somehow felt Alfred would not have been flattered could he have heard the tone taken, even by the Lady Althea herself. Mr. Mainwaring, having heard from Mr. Ainslie that the youngster was son of a tenant of mine, seemed to think it necessary to make a sort of half-apology for the jests about him. He complimented his skill, and then added: "I hope, if he is a favourite of yours, you forgive my disappointing him." I smiled at that, and reminded him that he had bestowed the wreath in a manner to please me. in her case, having some confidence in her good sense, and no reason to conclude young Mr. Mainwaring was disposed to trifle with her. Some twenty couples stood up for "Sir Roger de Coverley," which had been selected as a lively commencement, giving opportunity for all to share in it, as each couple that went others. I soon saw Laura Ainslie among them, and afterwards others of her family, including my dear cousin herself, whose partner was her son Edwin. It was a merry scene, and took up my attention fully. In the next dance, a quadrille, Lady Althea and Mr. Mainwaring were opposite to Helen and Mr. Travers. The seats near my own were in frequent request, and lively conversation going on in the room. None of what passed aroused my attention, till a lady on a sofa near me remarked concerning Lady Arabella Mainwaring's appearance, and I perceived that she was sitting in front of another window, looking on the dancing. "Very much changed from what she was a year ago," was the observation made to an elder lady at her right hand. "How old should you suppose she is?" "Not much over sixty I should think," was the reply; "she was a very handsome woman when she married General Mainwaring, but she might have been forty, for I know it had been many years said she would never find any one to suit her, she was so haughty.' "What made her fancy the General?" 'I don't know; he was a good soldier, but not rich; and though there is a peerage in the family, his chance of a reversion of it was barred by a dozen lives. It was a great surprise when we heard she had accepted him." "Was Lady Arabella as beautiful as her "And would not Mr. Merrivale have done niece?" so?" he asked. "He would not have given it to Miss Dalziel," I replied. Perhaps," he said, with slight hesitation, "the young fellow ought rather to thank me. He has played his part sufficiently well already, and he is rather too much in earnest." Alfred Merrivale had entered, and was at the moment leading out the Lady Althea. Had I not from previous knowledge conceived the opinion that that fair lady might play with a true heart, and take no serious harm herself, I might have thought this a hint of little moment, "I think she was-quite, when I first saw her. I doubt, indeed, if Lady Althea will be nearly so handsome at thirty as she was at that age. She has fallen off already, do you not think?” "A little. She certainly was a lovely girl five years ago. I do not think she has ever looked quite so well since her first London season. That constant round of gaiety wears every one's beauty." "She was very much admired." "I suppose we shall lose her from the neighbourhood soon." "Indeed!" and the elder lady leant back with an air as if she knew more than she chose to tell. "What a handsome couple they are!" quoth the younger lady. "Ah! yes. Very well matched for a dance." "Isn't it to be?" "Can't be." "Poor things!" "Oh! it would only be the General and Lady Arabella over again, and you know that would never do! The present generation are wiser, you may depend. Young gentlemen do not rush into matrimony without weighty reasons now-a-days, nor young ladies neither." Falling in love is weighty matter enough, now even, with some folks; and I certainly thought if ever there was a case of it, that was one; and he is such a nice fellow !" "Well, of course; that he is. But she may do better." "And the old lady is fond of her niece." "Yes, I think she has done a good deal to encourage the attachment; though perhaps without intending it. If she perceived it, and I think she must, I suppose she looked upon it merely as a boy and girl affair not likely to last long, especially as her son is younger than his cousin." "I do not see now why it should be given up. He is clever, and has good prospects, I believe." "I happen to know it is given up. Mr. Mainwaring's prospects depend entirely upon Lord St. George. He has offered him a secretaryship in the embassy, or something of the sort, and I believe the young gentleman crosses the channel next week." "Ah! I daresay his mother feels his going abroad. How pale she is! I saw her look round just now, as if she wanted some one to speak to." "Yes, people do not like to be forward in speaking to Lady Arabella Mainwaring. There are, I believe, not a dozen here to-day whom she would condescend to enter into conversation with." "She seemed very affable with that young lady who wears the wreath. I understand she requested her son to obtain it for her, and put it on herself." "Yes, it was an excitement. Anything like a display of courage pleases her; and Miss Dalziel deserved some notice for her brave conduct in resisting the Black Band.” "I remember reading the account. She dances nicely, and there is something I like in her face. Did Lady Arabella know her before to-day?" "Oh no! she is quite a stranger to society." After a pause the younger lady resumed"Everybody expected Lady Althea would have worn the wreath; especially when Mr. Mainwaring appeared to contest for it. It was so last year." "Ah! yes. That gives a very excellent reason for finding some one else to bestow it upon. Everybody must get out of the way of thinking | there is, or has been, anything serious in the case." The ladies' voices had hitherto proceeded in a gentle murmur, which, perhaps because they were nearest me, had quite distinguished itself from the general hum of conversation; although some of a very lively character was kept up meanwhile near us. They seemed now disposed to be more confidential, and sinking their words occasionally as if they did not wish to be overheard, I, not desiring to hear more than I was fairly entitled to, turned my attention elsewhere. Lady Arabella Mainwaring did look ill. She sat with her face half-concealed in her handkerchief, her eyes apparently in eager search for some one among the dancers-her son I supposed, for I could not see him there. Suddenly she raised her head, and leant both hands on the elbows of the chair, as if to support herself in rising. Then she looked round the room. Feeling almost certain she was indisposed, I rose and approached her; not intending to speak unless she addressed me. The old lady stared at me at first, and then, as if partially remembering who I was, made a gesture encouraging me to draw nearer, and said in a low tone 'Stay, this will be better, Mrs.-I beg your pardon, but I forget your name?" I told her. She beckoned to one of the servants, and said, a little to my surprise, "Go and look for Mr. Ainslie, and tell him, Mrs. Gainsborough wishes to speak to him in the study." The last words were scarcely articulated; a sort of spasm seemed to seize her. Had I noticed anything remarkable in the courtyard I should have supposed she had been startled or annoyed by it, for her eyes were turned towards the window. She rose abruptly, and hastened across the room. For a moment I hesitated about following, but perceiving an uncertainty in her step, I decided to keep near her. It was fortunate I did so, for while attempting to open a door at the far end of the apartment, she would have fallen if I had not supported her. A servant immediately started forward to assist me, and together we bore her to a sofa in the adjoining room, the study she had referred to. I desired the man to send some one for her ladyship's maid, and to go himself in search of Mr. Mainwaring, and then resorted to the usual expedients of loosening dress, and applying eau-de-Cologne to her temples. The maid appeared, but was in such a useless state of consternation that I thought it best to send her to enquire if her lady's medical attendant was in the castle. Young Mainwaring soon appeared also, and, in evident alarm, asked if I thought the seizure was simply a faintingfit. I expressed my belief that it was so, and that probably it had been induced by over-exer- The maid came again with the information that Dr. Meredith was not to be found. I suggested Mr. Beverley might be of service; and Mr. Mainwaring seized the idea, and despatched the servant for him. I had mentioned him as a friend of Mr. Ainslie's; and it seemed the old lady was recovering consciousness and some degree of power, for she suddenly spoke. “Arden, send-don't leave me, Arden; that odious man is here." He evidently thought her mind wandered. "No man is here, my dear mother, but myself," he said. "Yes, dear-yes," she murmured; "you must not go. It is that odious man Ollivier." He slightly started; there was something in the name he winced at; but he spoke very calmly. "Do not think about it, mamma. You are ill now. We will see about those matters byand-bye.” "Oh, my boy, I have ruined you!" "Hush, hush, my dearest mother; you must not say that. Look at me, and see if at worst I have not strength and spirit to fight my way as my father fought his." "My boy, my darling, ne never had this to encounter; and it might have been so different!' she partly raised herself, throwing her arm over his shoulder. "Her ladyship is better now," I said. "I will retire." Mr. Mainwaring thanked me as I moved towards the door. Near it I met Mr. Ainslie and Mr Beverley. The former shortly after came to me, saying, Lady Arabella was recovering, and adding a request that I would say nothing of her indisposition; or merely that she was fatigued and faint. I had already so replied to several enquirers, and I told him so. He seemed pleased, and said he was sure I was gifted with sufficient discretion to perceive it was not advisable to repeat what I had heard or surmised during the last half-hour. The same evening at his house, Mr. Ainslie told me that what the lady had accused herself of was no more than fact; her extravagance had deeply injured her son. Calculating on the mere chance of his inheriting a fortune from a relative who had died recently, and was found to have disposed otherwise of his property, she had gone on with fatal recklessness, and kept him in a state of false security as to his affairs. "Thus," said Mr. Ainslie, "the young man has been spending freely at college; and now that he has come of age, his eyes are for the first time opened." 66 Of course I gave my assurance that the family affairs I had so chanced to become acquainted with, together with his explanation, should be regarded by me as strictly in confidence. ON THE RELATION OF ART TO NATURE. PART I. (In Two Parts.) The notion that painting and sculpture are concerned only with the "imitation of Nature" -that is, with copying the forms and colours of existing things-though so often expelled, as it were, with a pitchfork, persistently recurs, not only in popular talk, but in deliberate criticism and in the practice of artists. There are periods when this notion gets the upperhand, as at the end of the fifteenth century, and again at the end of the eighteenth, when Rousseau prescribed a return to nature as the panacea for all defect, in art as elsewhere. Then Winckelmann and his successors triumphed over it for awhile, and showed at least the crudity of that statement. This is the purpose of much of Sir Joshua Reynolds's lectures. Now it seems to be coming up again-thanks partly to Mr. Ruskin, though he might be quoted on both sides-and this time with some prospect of demonstrating, by the aid of photography, what it does in fact amount to. It is a very general opinion that photography has made painting superfluous; or, at least, that it will do so as soon as further improvements in the process shall enable it to render colour as well as light and shade. And our artists seem to give in to this view, in the deference they show to the subject, as if it mat tered not so much what it was, or how, as that it is there-a pious tenderness towards barns and rail-fences and stone walls, and the confused monotony of the forest, not as having any special fitness, not as beautiful, but because they exist a scrupulous anxiety to give the every-day look of the objects they pourtray, as any passer-by would see them, free from any |