upon him. But no; that he had prevented, by concealing even the name under which he now lived. At any rate, she would shower kindnesses on Mrs. Leslie; he should hear of her attention and cordiality—he should recognise the heart he had once considered as his, in the zeal of her affection towards his mother. With this comfortable, consolatory intention, she set out for the country.

Every preparation had been so arranged as to make Lady Helen's entrance into her inherited property as gratifying to her feelings as possible. She was met by the whole body of her tenants upon the borders of the estate. In the evening, bonfires were lighted upon the surrounding hills, and acclamations and vociferous shouts of good will, not a little added to by admiration of her beauty, accompanied her at every step, and yet she felt less happy than she had done. During the journey from London, she had been allowed more time for consideration and self-examination, than the whirl and quick succession of London engagements had for a long time left her. The last letter of Horace had brought his image painfully back to her recollection; and she could not control an involuntary sigh, as she compared him as he was in the days of their unsuspecting love, of their unalloyed happiness, with the being who was now her all but declared husband.

These gloomy thoughts were, however, upon the morrow in a great measure dissipated; for, before breakfast was finished, arrived Lord Rutherford, full of plans for her amusement, and in her honour. In the first place, his mother, sister, and two younger brothers had arrived at Rutherford, and a fancy ball was to be given in the following week; everything was settled; Helen was to form

one of a quadrille with Lord Rutherford's sister; the boys were to be dressed as pages; the tutor, the cleverest creature in the world, was to change the library into one of Tippoo Saib's tents, the drawing-room into a Swiss cottage; all the maids were to be dressed in short petticoats, red stockings, and round hats, and the footmen, with their faces died with walnut juice, were to be arrayed in full eastern costume: the garden was to be illuminated, fireworks to be let off; Helen's name was to shine in crimson light; in short, nothing was ever to have been so perfect as this fête, and everything entirely in honour of Lady Helen. It is not to be wondered at, that under such an accumulation of new pleasures, every serious thought, every nascent regret in our heroine's breast was at once crushed. There was so little time, hardly sufficient to get her magnificent dress made. Every shop in the neighbouring town had to be visited: old pieces of brocade, that, long since out of fashion, the mercer had put into the lumber-room in despair, were now sought out, and purchased at exorbitant prices. In short, though fancy balls were then a novelty, they have since become so common, that I will not tire my readers with the details of what is now almost a daily preparation. I am sorry to say, all Helen's good intentions towards poor Mrs. Leslie were condensed into a request to her admirer (easily granted, of course,) that he would invite her to

the ball.

The eventful day at last arrived. Lord Ellington and his daughter were to dine and dress at Rutherford. Every body was in the highest spirits. The Dowager Lady Rutherford overwhelmed Helen with care and civility;

Miss Lollington, her daughter, called her Helen, and treated her as a sister, and the two hobble-de-hoy brothers took her all over the house, to show her the clever and tasteful arrangements superintended by their tutor, Mr. Wright. With spirits already worn out by the excitement of the day, Helen gladly, after dinner, betook herself to her room to dress. It would have been a relief to her to weep. Why, she knew not, but melancholy presentiments were upon her mind. By one of those extraordinary whims of capricious memory, that all have felt, but none can account for, it appeared to her that what was then occurring, either in a dream, or in some other existence, had before happened to her. Her free, unfearing pledge to poor Horace with regard to the impossibility of her being changed whenever she appeared at a fancy ball, rung in her ears, and languidly and without exertion she allowed her active and clever femme de chambre to arrange her dress. The task was finished; and if, as she glanced at herself in the long glass that reflected her perfect, her angelic figure from head to foot, if a feeling of gratified vanity then throbbed high at her heart, it would have been hard to have found a being so callous to the charms of beauty, as not to have far exceeded her in appreciation of her charms.

She was anxiously called from below; the company had not yet begun to arrive, and Lord Rutherford was very desirous to show her everything before his duties as host must for awhile separate him from the object of his admiration.

"It is a beautiful evening, Lady Helen," cried he, as she came down stairs, "the garden is just illuminated, and

let us see that whilst we can, for in this charming climate nobody knows that another hour may not bring us a snow storm."

He was evidently in high spirits, perhaps a little excited by the wine he had drank, to the effect of which the hurry and fuss of arrangement had much added; and as he led her from walk to walk, and vista to vista, the explanation of the beauty of the arrangements for the ball, became gradually merged in exclamations of enthusiastic admiration of her, whom he called the Queen of the Feast. "One thing, dearest Lady Helen," he whispered, passionately, one thing only is wanting to add to the pleasure, to ensure the happiness of this evening, that you will say that one little word, so often implored. Surely, surely you have kept me long enough in suspense."

66

Nay, Lord Rutherford," she replied, endeavouring to turn it off in jest," you forget my costume, we Elizabethan maids require rather a more formal scene of courtship than this moonlit walk; let us return to the ballroom, there you may enact your part with some effect, here it is lost."

"Where was there ever form where there was sincere love?" he cried; when is this prudery to end?"

" but you mock me, Lady Helen-when,

"this is

"Let us return to the house," she answered, not the entertainment you invited me to; and to say the truth, it is rather late in the year and evening for these „sylvan scenes.”

66 'By heaven! you shall not go, until you give me an answer!" he exclaimed, losing gradually all control over his irritable temper.

EE

"Shall not! my lord, that is not a word I am much accustomed to

66

Nay, will not, when I implore you," said he, catching her hand." Helen, you know not how I love you, do not trifle with me.-If I admired when I first saw you, how much more must I adore you now, looking as you do the very personification of loveliness."

"Lord Rutherford, loosen my hand, this is neither the time nor the method of seeking the favour of a young lady."

66

Nay, rather, since I have so far proceeded," said the young lord, "let me thus claim you as my destined wife, only do not say no! and I will take your silence as the confirmation of my hopes."

"Never! my lord," she exclaimed, angrily, withdrawing her hand, "but that you appear to be hardly in a state to judge of the propriety of your own actions, I would ask you, is this the way to gain the good opinion that you profess to wish for. For shame, for shame-stand from my way, my lord," for Lord Rutherford still placed himself so as to intercept her progress towards the house.— "Stand from my way, I say; were my friends present, you dare not thus insult me."

"A friend is present!" cried the voice of Horace, "always ready to die to protect you from insult ;" and he rushed between them, pale indeed, and worn in appearance, but scarcely less remarkable for manly beauty than when he had first gained the young affections of her who now stood trembling, almost fainting, before him.

"Mr. Wright," cried the enraged Lord Rutherford, "what insolence is this?"