midway between the valley and the heights of Copsley; whither he was bound, on a mission so serious that, according to his custom in su

ile, or musefully listening, nursing a thought. Or she was obscured, and he felt the face. The individuality of it had him by the heart, beyond his powers of visioning. On his arrival, he stood in the hall, adrip like one o

are neighbours; she has taken cottage-lodgings at Selshall, about an ho

edworth c

. Any menace to her precious liberty makes her prickly. She is passing the day with the Pettigrews, who have taken a

the worl

hing special

'nothing, I fancy, t

ou were dis

a pleasure

worst moods,

s!' quoth

are to be recko

t was, that I don't cou

eather; and you spoke of the "one point more variable in women." You may forestall yo

t. I have no pretension t

the good man, she would have to discountenance. His candour in confessing disappointment, and his open face, his excellent sense too, gave her some assurance of his not being foolishly impetuous. After he had read to her for an hour, as his habit was on evenings and wet days, their discussion of this and that in the book lulled any doubts she had of his prudence, enough to render it even a dubious point whether she might be speculating upon a wealthy bachelor in the old-fashioned ultra-feminine manner; the which she so abhorred that she rejected t

conduct in being late to the seductions of 'Sol' in his glory. Redworth said he had rarely seen so wonderful a sunset. The result of their unanimity stirred Emma's bosom to match-making regrets; and the walk of the pair together, alone under the propitious laming heavens, appeared to her now as an opportunity lost. From sisterly sympathy, she fancied she could understand Tony's liberty-loving reluctance: she had no comprehension of the backwardness of the man beholding the dear woman hand

's visage, said finally: 'If you mean the mortal man, I think him up to almost all your hyperboles-as far as men go; and he departed to

the butt of your

word-point. He is Roman, Spartan, Imperial; English, if you like, the pick, of the land. It is an honour to call him friend, and

atisfied with it

he ladies retired to read their letters by the morning's post; whereupon Sir Lukin called to Redworth; 'I met that woman in the park yesterday, and had to stand a volley. I went beating about London for you all the afternoon and evening.

ity. They help to the ruin of their order, or are signs of its decay. We won't judge it by him. He favoured me with his "word

oroug

ess to fight, if either

she a young one, a girl, under the protection of the house! By Jove! Redworth, when you come to consider the scoundrels men can be

ukin Dunstane mi

and tell one woman of another woman

ps are perhaps measurable

wick was right when she used to jibe at me for throwing up my commission. Idleness is the

r ti

ind,

ver you

d me to come in for a regular drencher. But a pretty woman in a right-down termagant passion is good theatre; because it can't last, at that pace; and you're sure of your agreeable tableau. Not that I trust he

chief. I had no right to mix myself in it. I'm seldom caught o

at the window, and loo

marrying men, always; and quite right. Not that one doesn't hear a roundabout thing or two about you: no harm. Very much the contrary:- as the world

guess the lady

Payn

reeting the name convinced

er all! . . . why, of course it is! But the thing staring us in the face is just what we never see. Just the husband for her!-

w a heavy breath; and it should be chronic

usal? and from a green widow in the blush? Did you see her cheeks when she was peeping at the letter in her hand? She colours at half a word-takes the lift of a finger for Hymen coming. And lots of fellows are after her; I know it from Emmy. But

name. Or the world won't give it, at all events. I'm a blundering donkey. Yes, she wishes to k

earnest about what you do. You're feeling it now, on the rack, by heaven! though you keep a bold face. Did she speak positively?-

down in half an ho

in replied, and went strai

trance of Emma in her bed-chamber, to whom she said: 'I have here

throw policy to the winds, if only, I can batter at you for your heart and find it

s told

th heard an old story, coming from one of the baser kind of women: grossly false, he knew. I mention only Lord Wroxeter and Lockton. H

an to wife. I know nothing to compare with it, for he is a man of warmth. He is one of those rare men of honour who can command their passion; who venerate when they love: and those are the men that women select for punishment! Yes, you! It is to the woman he loves that he cannot show himself as he is, because he is at her feet. You have managed to stamp your s

tears running over, and her dream of fr

t as if alone at sea, with her dear heavens pelting. 'You have sneered at him for his calculating-to his face: and it was when he was comparatively poor that he calculated-to his cost! that he dared not ask you to marry a man who could not offer you a tithe of what he considered fit for the peerless woman. Peerless, I admit. There he was not wrong. But if he had valued you half a grain less, he might have won you. You

ly there!' interpos

hat was the prick of a needl

y! marriage! Is marriag

in prospect? And are you steering

ought of a husband cuts me from any dre

rejected him when

hink

merits of an

I might not have made him happy. I wanted a hero, an

find me any of your heroes to match him, I will thank you. He came on the day I speak of, to consult me as to whether, with the income he then

er from self-pity and shame to remorseful pity of the su

ise; I was expecting a bellow and an assault of horns; and if, dear:-you will say, what boarding-school girl have you got with you! and I feel myself getting childish:-if Sol in his glory had not been so m . . . majestically m . . . magnificent, nor seemed to show me the king . . . kingdom of my dreams, I might have stammered the opposite word to the one he heard. Last night, when he took my hand kindly before going to bed I had a fit for dropping on my knees to him. I saw him bleed, and he held himself right r

Emma; adding: 'My darling! he trusts you. It is the soul of the man that loves you, as it is

they form square; they enclose me in the middle, and I have their inscriptions to digest. Read that crazy letter from Mary Paynham while I am putting on my bonnet.

entiment the most perfect, is unable to contend with the fatal charm, which exercised by an indifferent person, must be ascribed to original predestination." She should be under the wing of Lady Wathin. There is the mother for such chicks! But I'll own to you, Emmy, that after the perusal, I did ask myself a question as to my likeness of late to the writer. I have drivelled . . . I was sh

ted by Emma to escort her to her cottage. After their departure, Emma fell into laughter at the last words with the kiss of her cheeks: 'Here goes old Ireland!' But, from her l