"I think him still a little bit of a coxcomb, but very pleasant and elegant."

"A coxcomb! a magician rather! A very awful personage!

'An awful man John Todd! John Todd!

An awful man was he!'

You may laugh now, but you may feel the truth hereafter." "Why, he scarcely said anything till he entered the drawing-room; so taken up was he with his own elegant figure and wounded arm."

"He has said enough since, and, if lips were silent, I am much mistaken if eyes and ears were not the more active. He has every sense double; can see, without looking; hear, without listening; speak, without being heard; and shows us our foibles as the means through which he wins us. We may deceive ourselves; but we shall scarcely deceive him."

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Hey-day, Helen! whence all this eloquence and penetration? and why seek the acquaintance of such a dangerous person?"

"His character interests me as uncommon, and with the daring of youth, I despise the danger.”

"His character interests you! Ha! ha! ha! So it does Miss Carleton."

"Plus on est fou, plus on rit."

"Thanks! Develop his character as you please, you will find him neither more nor less than an agreeable coxcomb.' "Out upon you for a poor blind mole! But remember you must behave with due decorum on Thursday. I cannot have my guests put to confusion for your misdeeds."

"Cruel creature! I have promised my shy neighbour one day of fishing, and one of shooting; have condoled with Mrs. Mahon, and intend to give Mrs. Carleton-no, I will give her nothing, for she does not deserve it."

CHAPTER XIV.

Après l'esprit de discernement, ce qu'il-y-a au monde de plus rare, sont les diamans et les perles.

Il-y-a de petites régles, des devoirs, des bienséances attachées aux tems, aux personnes, qui ne se devinent point à force d'esprit, et que l'usage apprend sans nulle peine; juger des hommes par les fautes qui leur échappent en ce genre, avant qu'ils soient assez, c'est en juger par leurs régles, ou par la pointe de leurs cheveux, c'est vouloir un jour être detrompé. LA BRUYERE.

"Do not stay here with me, my sweet love," said Mrs. Mahon to her daughter, "but go and entertain Miss St. Maur, who is looking for you."

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"I suspect she is much more agreeably employed, and I have no wish to play Madame de Trop," replied Caroline in a whisper, looking to where Helen and Mr. De Roos were standing apart, engaged in an earnest and animated conversation.

"Nonsense! he has not known her more than three weeks, and I see nothing particular in his attentions."

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"True! but some secret sympathy, or something less romantic, has taught him to cross her path almost every day during that period; and there is too much congeniality between them, to allow them to meet so often with indifference." Folly! Join the party directly, or I shall;" then turning to a sheepish-looking young man of good fortune, who approached at the instant, she resumed in a moment her caressing tone. "My dear Caroline is such an affectionate child, I cannot persuade her to quit my side. I don't know how I shall ever part with her; and yet, with her sweet disposition and talents, I can scarcely hope to keep her always with me. But there are so few worthy of her, I don't mean as to fortune, for I think less of that than most mothers-but as to better things. How I wish more of our young men resembled you!"

The sheepish-looking young man looked more sheepish still, and the mother congratulated herself, and not without reason, on having almost secured a dernier resort.

Meanwhile the daughter, with a lagging step, and a blush for her mother, proceeded to disturb the tête-à-tête. On the day, before Mrs. Mahon had given her first dinner to the heiress, and had, as was her wont, furnished house-room for some of the likely young men, rightly judging that the socia

ble morning's meal brought more of intimacy, and perhaps a warmer feeling, than the crowded and sometimes formal din The road from Hurlestone to Bensted being dangerous at night, from a bank having given way, she had been obliged to include Helen among the "Seven Sleepers.

ner.

The windows had been thrown open on account of the heat, and after breakfast, the party had dispersed in groups on the lawn, or in the drawing-room, as fancy directed. As Miss Mahon approached, she found that however earnest might have appeared the conversation between our heroine and Mr. De Roos, it was on no weightier subject than some of the popular works of the day, and the ready manner in which Helen appealed to her as she came up, showed that one at least felt no vexation at her presence. The conversation was continued; and, by degrees, nearly the whole party collected on the same spot.

"Who is that coming down the hill?" asked one. "The postman!" replied another.

"The postman! the postman!" and all moved towards the gate, though none perhaps anticipated letters of any impor

tance.

I know not what others may do, but I love a letter above most things. A delightful long letter! the three pages, the ends, and round the seal written and re-written; the words formed by a flowing pen, and the sense dictated by a loving and eloquent heart; in short, such a letter as ladies love and gentlemen ridicule; and for such letters I have watched and listened as eagerly, and as breathlessly, as can the sick for the step of the coming leech. Thus am I waiting and listening even now, and yet to me will come nothing that can bring hope or pleasure. Perhaps it was the same feeling of vague expectation, which induced all to move in the same direction. The man was employed by several families, and thus Helen was almost the only one who could receive no letter, yet she joined the group round the gate; and, in answer to some remark from Mr. De Roos, hoped he would hear his father was better.

"I thank you!" he replied, much gratified by the kind tone in which the wish had been conveyed. "If not, I shall go to him immediately; you know what it is to lose a parent, and I have but one left."

He turned aside as he spoke, the tears came into Helen's eyes, and a fresh subject for sympathy seemed awakened.

The bags were delivered, the letters taken out, and there

was one for Mr. De Roos from his father. Helen's eyes were almost unconsciously fixed on his face, as he tore it open, and glanced at its contents. The first few lines seem to give him pleasure, then a change came over his features, and the letter was slightly crushed with a sudden and impatient movement. Helen failed not to remark the change, but without a clue to guide her to the contents of that letter, her curiosity, though strongly awakened, must remain unsatisfied. That they were not pleasurable was certain. At that instant he looked up, their eyes met, and aware he had been observed, he coloured slightly and half turned away.

"I hope your father is better."

"Thank you! yes-no-yes," stammered out the gentleman, for the first time since she had known him confused and almost awkward. This confusion lasted but for a moment, her look of wonder recalled his scattered senses, his self-possession returned, and he was again the bland, the collected, and the winning.

"I am happy to say my father is much better; but I was so absorbed in my letter, I believe I should apologize for my distant mode of answering."

"I too should apologize for having disturbed you, but I feared your father was worse.

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She was bending over a flower bed, either admiring its beauties, or trying to account for the change of manner in Mr. De Roos, for she did not like to feel herself baffled, when the subject of her thoughts gained her side.

"What a beautiful gum cistus!" he said, pointing to one just coming into bloom, "and what a lovely flower it is, so delicate, so fragile. It is like one of the bright dreams of our youth, fading almost before we feel its beauty; its most appropriate epitaph a sigh. Or like the hope of the morning, gone ere the evening hour."

She looked up in surprise, but the pensive smile, and the half-veiled eye, accorded well with the melancholy sentiment.

"Have you penetrated my taste for the romantic, and thus covertly ridicule it; or can it be, that the gay, the envied, the animated, the favourite of fortune,' as he is styled by some, bears a canker in his heart, blighting the fairest flowers of life?"

1

"There are few roses without thorns, and where is the heart that hides not some sorrow in its secret depths."

There was something very touching in his tone, and flattering in this confidence. Helen felt it, but answered gaily :

"The roses with thorns are most beautiful of their species; and for the secret depths of the human heart, I trust yours are not so profound as to be beyond the leech's fathom line to reach, or its sorrows beyond his skill to cure."

"I suppose I must own," he replied smiling, "that I spoke at the moment more as a poet than as one who confines himself to strict matter of fact, and were I to tell the cause of my present discomfiture, I fear I should meet with but little sympathy."

"Pray do not keep me in suspense, for I am what you gentlemen would call a thorough woman, all sympathy and curiosity; and since trifles make the sum of human life,' why may I not condole with you on the death of a favourite hunter, or the bursting of a famous gun-two of the heaviest misfortunes, as I have been told, which can befal a man between the ages of eighteen and forty-five."

"You are laughing at me, Miss St. Maur, and I cannot bear your ridicule."

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Nay, I am gravity itself; and it is quite impossible that the Hon. Mr. De Roos should shrink from ridicule !"

"Not quite as impossible as you imagine, and though others might deem the cause of my discomfiture one of those trifles that make the sum of human life, it is no trifle to me, since it will deprive me of the pleasure of dining with you to-morrow.' "Indeed!" she replied, blushing against her inclination at the regret implied and looked.

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"Well, I shall not distress your modesty by saying how much my guests and myself shall lament your absence, but rather try to overcome the obstacle. You are so perfect in the art of putting all in good-humour, that you are an invaluable acquisition, though I doubt if your talents would be rewarded with the like success, were you to attempt to amend our morals instead of our manners.

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Surely you do not deem me a flatterer, who would outrage truth for the paltry purpose of winning common applause."

"No; only as one who would avail himself of the foibles of mankind for amusement or profit.'

"Your manner is playful, but your words, if in earnest, are keen; I had hoped you at least understood me."

"Did you hope so?" replied Helen quickly, with one of those sudden impulses that people of lightning perceptions cannot always control, and her eyes were again fixed on his face. Once more she thought she perceived confusion as he