tête-à-tête-I only go for a moment to speak to papa, and I assure you, he is not quite so bad as he appears a little stupid and silent at first, but he improves a good deal on nearer acquaintance."

So saying, she tripped away, leaving me to perform a task for which I felt little inclination.

In a drawing-room the distance of a yard or two constitutes for some purposes a solitude as complete as one could enjoy in the very centre of the great desert of Zahara; and left alone with Miss Pynsent, there was quite privacy enough to be disagreeable, that is, to make us feel mutually awkward, and at the same time to impose the necessity of immediate advances to conversation. Lady Amersham, Lord and Lady Pynsent, and Sir Cavendish, were engaged in a partie quarrée at cards; and Lord Amersham, who had hitherto amused himself in overlooking the game, and criticising the play of all parties, was now half reclining with his daughter on a chaise longue, her beautiful arm encircling his neck, and her countenance affording a strong contrast in juxtaposition to his indented and hard-featured visage. Mr. Pynsent was seated at a remote table, apparently deeply engaged in studying a portfolio of prints of mili

tary costume. From the party thus variously occupied, there appeared no immediate hope of any seasonable interruption to our interview, and I felt obliged, invita Minerva, to set seriously about the task of making myself agreeable.

There can be nothing more cloudy and unhopeful than the first dawn of conversational intercourse between a town-bred lady and a young gentleman born and educated in the country, who has never even approached within eyeshot of the metropolis. Between such persons there appears no channel of approximation. The opera, balls, parties, and Hyde Park, are cut off on the one hand, and all matters of provincial interest are equally a dead letter on the other. Still when two people, however different in habit and ideas, are anxious to be agreeable, the means of accomplishing their object will rarely be found wanting. In the most dissimilar characters there will be found, on nearer view, some points of contact, some coincidences of sentiment and feeling, some unison of tastes, solid enough to serve as the foundation of such a light and fragile superstructure of regard, as is requisite for the purposes of pleasant intercourse in society.

With this hypothesis, at least, my own expe rience coincided. The awkwardness of first address was at length surmounted, and the conversation of Miss Pynsent and myself became fluent and agreeable. The young lady was, fortunately, fond of poetry and romance, and talked enthusiastically, and not ungracefully, of Marmion, the Pleasures of Hope, and the Mysteries of Udolpho. Coincidence or difference of opinion on these subjects, naturally led to the introduction of others equally interesting. In short, when an interruption to our colloquy did at length occur, it found me sailing with a fair breeze on smooth waters, and was received with none of that thankfulness with which, at an earlier moment, it would have been welcomed.

In return for the apparent partiality which had led to an hour's tête-à-tête with their daughter, both Lord and Lady Pynsent regarded me with eyes of favour, and were profuse in their civilities. The secret of all this perhaps was, that though in a matrimonial point of view, I was infinitely beneath the acceptance of a person of the very high pretensions that attached to the heiress of the Amersham title and estates; yet, in the eyes of the world, I

was by no means an ineligible match for Miss Pynsent, without fortune, and the eldest daughter of a tolerably numerous family. So probably thought Lord and Lady Pynsent, who were apparently resolved that no want of encouragement on their part should diminish the chance of their procuring an unexceptionable establishment for their daughter. Of such views, however-if such did exist-I was entirely unconscious, and was disposed, in my ignorance of the world, to attribute the very favourable accueil which I experienced from both parents, either to disinterested benevolence on their part, or to uncommon powers of prepossession on my own.

Thus did the first evening of my sojourn at Staunton pass away; and when, on retiring to my chamber, I cast a retrospective glance on the day just closed, I found I could regard it altogether with a degree of tranquil complacency, far greater than the character of some of its occurrences might have led me to anticipate. The long excitement and consequent exhaustion of my spirits, soon brought their natural restorative; and when slumber that night descended on my eyelids (need I say it?) the Lady Melicent was in my dreams,

CHAPTER XVI.

Yes, there are secret rivets to my heart,

Where Berenice's charms have found the way,
Subtle as lightnings.

Who comes from the chamber?

It is Azrael, the angel of death.

DRYDEN.

THALA BA.

My sojourn in the world of dreams continued till the sound of the morning-bell recalled me to the perception and the consciousness of grosser and more material entities. Few moments were necessary to restore my senses to their wonted activity; and I sprung up to prepare for participation in the pleasures and business of that less visionary world of which I again found myself a denizen. My preparations, however, were made with less facility than usual. The duties of the toilet were protracted for a space considerably transcending the limits ordinarily found sufficient for their due