eyes followed

knowing, almost without looking, that those dark her every movement, and that a smile, as she thought, of triumph, curved his lip. All this was strange after her cold reproof of yesterday but she did not remember he was one of your Veni-Vidi-Vici men, who never admit the possibility of failure, and fancy victory must attend their banners if they stop to unfurl them; nor did she know he had overheard more than one of the pic-nic party assert that the victory was already his. There was a slight noise in the adjoining conservatory; it might be her aunt, and she insisted on showing him a rare exotic. He followed her with the same admiring gaze, the same confusing and triumphant smile. Helen's hopes were vain-it was only the gardener. She would have detained him, under pretence of giving the names of the flowers, but he was gone before she could effect her purpose.

More than two hours had elapsed since they had entered the conservatory, and still the lady was sitting there alone, and sad. There were traces of tears easily to be seen; her hands hung listless by her side, and her head rested against a pillar. The petals of more than one rare plant were strewed around, as if some strong hand had plucked and scattered them, whilst the mind had been intent on other things. The flowers had been brushed by some rude touch from the datura arborea, and lay on the white stones, shaming them with their own superior purity. A shower of orange blossoms almost covered the pavement near one of the entrances; and the deep dent of a man's foot in the border, and a broken plant here, with an overturned pot there, showed marks of a rude and sudden exit, and told a tale of rejected love and unrestrained violence.

The dressing-bell rang, and Helen started from her reverie. She looked from the door, but the horseman was far on his road. She replaced the thrown down, tied up the broken, put away the fallen, and sighed as she finished her task, and the signs of ruin were removed. She grieved to look upon them herself: she would have grieved still more had they met other and less friendly eyes.

"Mr. Euston presents his compliments to Miss St. Maur, and hopes she is better," were the contents of a note delivered soon after.

"Miss St. Maur presents her compliments to Mr. Euston, and she is better," was the note sent in return.

"Do write a longer note to your cousin," said Mrs. Hargrave.

"Pardon me, aunt; it is cruelty to encourage hopes which can never be realized; and Mr. Euston's note proves he has already repented of his late repentance."

Mrs. Hargrave said no more, and her look of consciousness was not lost upon Helen.

CHAPTER XI.

Avec les gens qui par finesse écoutent tout, et parlent peu, parlez encore moins ou, si vous parlez, dites peu de chose.

He comes! he comes! in glorious style!

LA BRUYERE.

SHANNON AND CHESAPEAKE.

THE next morning, before they had left the breakfast table, Lord Alford was announced. "More than a thousand and one welcomes!" said Helen, yielding both her hands to his grasp, whilst her looks spoke her thanks.

"I suppose, from your early visit, you have brought the flowers," remarked Mrs. Hargrave, pettishly: "I am sure I shall have cause to rejoice, for I have heard of nothing else. 'Are they come?' was her last question at night; her first in the morning."

Helen coloured; Alford smiled, and declaring himself to be the bearer of the flowers, played the agreeable to the old lady, till he restored her to good humour. The flowers were brought in and duly admired, and Helen and her visitor proceeded to the garden, after an admonition from Mrs. Hargrave, to remember that Robert was to be there at twelve. Now, ma belle," said Alford, "for the memory of our bygone days of childish frankness, give me a clue to unravel this mystery, for my wit can only enable me to read half the Oh, Helen! Helen! I verily believe some horrid spell rests in these dark woods of yours. Dormer raced through them from north to south, from east to west, day after day, and always returned looking as if he had explored the Trophonian cave. The day before yesterday he came back in such a mood, that (thanks to Catherine's tormenting questions), if Spanish patriotism had not been out of fashion with the Tories, War to the knife!' must have been proclaimed between

riddle.

them.

Then, yesterday he started from Feldon (thanks to my discretion), with something of a bright look; and lo, behold! he leaves your woods looking as if he had been hanged for burking, or theft, or some such ungentlemanly crime, and was speeding to the abode of the condemned. Nor has the spell worked only upon him. The very name of Hurlestone makes Euston look like a stormy bear, outrageous at being placed in the Zoological Gardens; and even I have no sooner entered its limits, than I feel inclined to quarrel with ⚫ La Belle et La Bonne.' Helen," he continued more seriously, "what amends can you make for having traversed my favourite project, and destroyed the peace of my dearest friend ?”

·

"Do not quarrel with me,' said Helen, raising her beautiful eyes to his, with the large tears standing in them ready to overflow at a look. "You cannot grieve for this matter more deeply than I do; but his passions are wild and fearful, and they alone must prevent his enjoying peace. My manner might have saved him what he termed the disgrace of a refusal."

"I cannot quarrel with you, Helen, were it only for those kind tears, but you must not think Dormer blames you; he sends me to say all you can require, and to deliver his parting wishes and adieus."

"Is he gone then ?”

:

"He is but may I hope, from that sigh and tone, that his departure is not unregretted ?"

"Were I to say it was not, you would give too strong a meaning to my words. I'd not wish that we should meet again, at least not yet; but I do wish that we had parted in kindness."

"Then may not time and assiduity effect some change? His love is not to be rejected as a thing of little worth. Say it was a fear of Euston's violence, that influenced your rejection."

"No! no! To his own violence, not Robert's, he owes the decision. I should soon learn to tremble in his presence, and he would brook woman's fear as little as her opposition. If I have suffered, I may thank myself for listening to his eloquence after the first warning. Why did he not write an apology for yesterday's violence, but that his pride could not stoop so low."

Alford looked disconcerted, for his friend had refused to take pen in hand, notwithstanding his entreaties.

"Come! come!" said Helen, half smiling at his confusion : "leave your friend to himself. He has been too much flattered and petted, to bear a first disappointment with any tolerable degree of patience; but time will soften the remembrance, pride heal the wound, and we may yet be friends. If you had seen him at our two last meetings, to forget all before, you could not blame my decision."

"Something about a whining beggar, was there not? For I durst not question Dormer, and his ravings were not very intelligible. That a dirty piece of impertinence should step between me and my hopes!"

"If you feared then, what should I do hereafter ?"

"Well! well! Perhaps you are right; and vexed as I am, I own he is scarcely worthy of you."

"We will talk no more then on this painful subject; but let me render you a thousand thanks for all your kindness." "Not a thank, for I would keep the debt undiminished, and will hear of nothing more material than smiles. No looking saucy, and appearing to think the service light. I would almost as soon attempt to tame a pair of full grown lions to run in my curricle, as undertake to calm Robert Euston, when in one of his fiery moods. But for your note, and my consequent caution, yesterday's pastoral might have been converted into a tragedy. Euston's ill-humour was intolerable: first, he seemed out of sorts at the chance of your being there; and then he seemed still more out of sorts at your not being there; and so difficult was it to prevent his affronting Dormer, despite all my devices and strange manoeuvres, by which I acquired the character of a madman, that I much doubt my success if . Percy had not left the field. When Euston discovered his absence, and I suppose guessed his errand, he was like a madman, and would have endangered the lives of himself and his steed, with his haste to reach Hurlestone-to say nothing of you and Dormer-had I not taken care, that by some unaccountable mistake, his horse should be at least four miles distant. I tell you what, Helen, his insolence is intolerable, and the world says you bend before his fury or his love; now I claim as a reward, that you think and act for yourself, and promise never to become Mrs. Euston."

"Do you seek to pain me as well as others ?" asked Helen sorrowfully.

"Never!" replied Alford warmly, looking at her pale cheek and falling tears. "I am quite ashamed of my ill-humour; but Euston provoked me. I ask no promise, only let me advise you as a brother. You do not love your cousin, and he is no fitting guide for you.'

"Must I invest you with that office?" said Helen, smiling through her tears.

"I fear you are too wise," smiling in return; 66 but, scatterbrain as I may be, I am a perfect Solomon when you are concerned. Why is Euston coming here at twelve?"

She gave him a softened account of part of what had passed, and ended by saying: "Now, that your friend bas left the neighbourhood, you need not fear my acting freely, firmly, and fearlessly. So do but retain your good humour, despite Robert's tantrums, and I will apply to you in all my difficulties."

"Thank you, my second sister, Helen. Who knows but with such a hope, I may acquire the wisdom and steadiness of a Lord Chancellor. But time wears, and I have no wish to encounter your visitor, with whom you may be as firm and penetrating as you please. I must wish your aunt good morning, though I perceive she would rather see you Mrs. Euston than Lady Alford, and your cousin has his periodical fits of jealousy.'

"Who sees deeper than the surface now, Alford? No one sees deeper than you. This is no news.

Perhaps not; but, should I ever have any thing to conceal, I must shun your presence."

"Tell it at once with a good grace, and then you need not avoid me."

"I will think about it. Adieu!"

As Alford left Hurlestone Park by one gate, Mr. Euston entered it by another. Helen received him alone, returned a cold bow to his polite good morning; and thanks, almost as cold, for his kind enquiries concerning her health, after which neither spoke for some time. Helen had armed herself with all the coldness and firmness she could summon, to meet and over-awe his expected vehemence; but there was no vehe. mence with which to contend. He had acquired too good information as to Dormer's movements, to find any difficulty in conjecturing the truth; and the removal of all his fears on this point, joined to shame, and the apprehension lest Helen might prove inexorable, made him as humble and as willing to promise every thing, as the most exigeant tyrant could have