ed with the ease of perfect innocence at Miss Aboyne's breakfast table, and there was no trace of stern displeasure in the face of the fair hostess, as she poured out for him the promised basin of potent green tea.

"You were right enough, Milly!" said Vernon, after demolishing a huge fragment of Nora's sweet brown loaf -(for it is a truth to be noted, that lovers, as well as heroes, never forget to "appease the rage of hunger") "You were right enough, Milly! Lady Octavia is not half so disagreeable as I expected to find her. In fact, she is really agreeable on the whole;certainly a lovely creature!-and she and Dr. Hartop both exceedingly polite to me; but somehow I felt but half at ease. The Doctor's civility is so pompous, and now and then I could have fancied Lady Octavia too condescending. I wished myself here more than once in the course of the evening, but could not get away; for first the Doctor pinned me down to three games of backgammon"-" And then, I dare say, you had music, had you not?" asked Millicent. "Yes, Lady Octavia played all the time I was engaged with her uncle, and put me sadly out, by the by; for she plays so divinely, there was no attending to the game." -" So I suppose by this time you like the harp almost as well as the guitar?" said Miss Aboyne, with an arch glance at her companion. "Not I, indeed!" replied Vernon quickly, with a rather heightened color; "though, to be sure, Lady Octavia was amazingly condescending-very considerate of the poor curate's ignorance and rusticity. She had been singing Italian while I was playing with her uncle-some of our favorite things, Milly ;-but when the game was finished, and I approached the harp, her Ladyship said, in the sweetest tone possible, 'I dare say you would rather have some English song, Mr. Vernon; perhaps I may find one or two among this unintelligible stuff,' and out she rummaged The Woodpecker'-my aversion, you know, Milly!" Millicent, who knew Vernon's passionate taste for Italian music and

poetry, (she herself, admirably taught by her father, had perfected him in the language,) could not help laughing at his evidently nettled recital of Lady Octavia's considerate kindness in lowering her performance to the supposed level of his comprehension; but perceiving, with a woman's quick perception in such matters, that even her innocent mirth was not contagious(it is a nice affair to jest with wounded vanity)-she unaffectedly changed the subject, by drawing him into the garden, where she required his assistance in some trifling office about her hyacinths, and soon beguiled him again into smiles and good humor; and at last engaged him to accompany her own sweet voice, and the old finetoned guitar, in one of his favorite harmonies-not Italian, indeed, but a Scotch air of exquisite pathos, which had many a time before exorcised the foul fiend when its spell of fretfulness and despondency was cast over him.

Among the simple pleasures dear to Miss Aboyne, one of the greatest had ever been, from earliest womanhood, the quiet luxury of an evening walk; and now, in later life, that innocent pleasure had not only lost nothing of its pleasantness, but the charm of association, and the pensive joy of memory, cast a more hallowed tone over the hours of her favorite enjoyment. For many weeks, nay months, after her father's death, the impaired health of his sorrowing child incapacitated her from stirring beyond the narrow boundary of her own little garden; but of late, so much of health and strength had she regained, that, with the support of Vernon's arm, she had adventured to some distance from her home, and even beyond the village; and as the warm pleasant spring weather became more genial and confirmed, Millicent's fluctuating cheek became tinted with more permanent hues of health, and every evening she was able to extend her walk a little and a little farther, with her unfailing and attentive companion. Those only who have languished under the pressure of a lingering, enervating malady, more

trying perhaps to the moral frame than many acute disorders, can conceive the exquisite enjoyment of feeling enabled, by gradually reviving strength, once more to wander out beyond some narrow limits, within which the feeble' frame has long been captive, to breathe the fresh free air of meadow or common, or the perfume of green briery lanes, skirting the clover or the bean field, the still requisite support of some kind arm ever punctually ready at an accustomed hour to lead forth the grateful convalescent. How impatiently is that hour expected !—and shoul. anything occur to protract or mar the promised pleasure, how far more acutely felt is that privation than so trifling a disappointment should seem to warraut! Far heavier crosses may be borne with more equanimity, at less cost of reason and self-control.

So of late had Millicent longed for the hour of the evening walk-the hour when her capabilities of enjoyment, physical and intellectual, were ever keenest when Vernon, released from his own peculiar duties and avocations, came punctual almost to a moment, to be her companion for the remainder of the day, to afford her the support of his arm as far as her gradually returning strength enabled her to wander; and then, re-entering the cottage in tranquil happiness, to share with her the pure pleasures of reading, music, or sweeter converse, till her early hour of retiring. No wonder poor Millicent had fallen into the habit of longing for the return of evening! But now, for a season she must cease to do so. At least she must be content with uncertain, perhaps unfrequent and hurried, visits from Vernon, after the late dinner at the Rectory; and Miss Aboyne had too much good sense and delicacy not to feel, and even enforce upon Horace, the propriety and common courtesy of giving his society, for at least the greater part of most evenings, to the host at whose table he was a constant guest. And truly, in the perfect seclusion of Sea Vale, and the present deranged state of Dr. Hartop's health, which precluded him from in

viting to the Rectory any of those who might, perhaps, have charitably bartered a portion of their precious time for the reverend gentleman's exquisite dinner and old hochheimer, (not to mention the attractions of his lovely niece)-the ready-made society of the young curate his qualifications of backgammon-playing-of listening deferentially to long prosing stories, when the Doctor was disposed to tell them, or, when the latter was slumberously inclined, of directly and noiselessly stealing away to the drawing-room and Lady Octavia's harp, thereby contributing, in the dearth of stronger stimuli, to keep the young lady in that flow of good-humor so conducive to her uncle's comfort. These several qualifications, combined with the gentlemanly manners and unexceptionable character of Vernon, made his society too valuable at Sea Vale Rectory not to be monopolised there, with as much exacting selfishness as could be exercised consistently, with Dr. Hartop's natural indolence and habitual good breeding.

Lady Octavia also conceived an aimable and immediate interest for the handsome, unsophisticated young curate, and forthwith set her fertile imagination to trace out the rough draft of a philanthropic plan for "making something of him," during the summer seclusion to which she had so dutifully devoted herself. No passion is so vulgar or so vulgarising as an insatiate love of indiscriminate admiration.

The high-born and high-bred Lady Octavia Falkland, habituated as she was to the refined incense of courtly circles, would have condescended to smile on her uncle's apothecary, rather than have wasted "her sweetness on the desert air." Vernon was comparatively an unexceptionable protegé, and her benevolent scheme in his favor was by no means " nipped i' th' bud," by the information communicated by Mrs. Jenkins, while assisting her lady to undress on the night of her arrival at Sea Vale Rectory, of his engagement with Miss Aboyne. "What a stupid affair that must be !"

soliloquized the Lady Octavia ;" and how charitable it will be to give the gentle shepherd,' really so tolerable a creature, some idea of la belle passion in its higher refinements—of the tastes and enjoyments of civilized society, before he is buried forever in a country parish, with a dowdy wife and a parcel of chubby cherubs.-I suppose," observed her Ladyship, more directly addressing herself to the confidential attendant- I suppose this Miss-what d'ye call her?-is some rustic beauty, all lilies, and roses, and flaxen-curls-for really Mr. Vernon is so good-looking, and so tolerable altogether, he would not have picked out a fright."-"Oh! they say she's very genteel, my Lady! (Miss Abine's her name, my Lady!)-and used to be estimated rather handsome formerly, before she lost her father, and fell into ill health-and she's not so young as she has been."-" Why, Mr. Vernon can't be more than five or six and twenty, and it's impossible he can be in love with any thing as old as that, when there can be no agrémens to make amends for the want of youth."-"Oh! Mr. Vernon's seven and twenty, my Lady! and Miss Abine's near three years older.""Three years older!-what, almost thirty? You must be mistaken, Jenkins; Mr. Vernon could never have engaged himself so absurdly ;—but it's an old affair, you said, didn't you, Jenkins? Quite a take-in, then, no doubt; for I suppose she has been good-looking,—and boys are so easily caught! It's amazing how artful some old spiders are!" and so saying, the fair Octavia's head sank on her soft pillow, to dream of old spiders and young flies, and the philanthropic pleasure of rescuing some fluttering innocent from the web of its wily destroyer. If Vernon's evening visits to the cottage became comparatively short and unfrequent, after the arrival of the strangers, during the earlier part of their sojourn at the Rectory, he generally made his appearance at Millicent's early breakfast table, and devoted to her as great a part of every 18 ATHENEUM, VOL. 2, 3d series.

morning as he could abstract from his parochial duties-duties from which she would have been the last to entice him; and once he had stolen away during Dr. Hartop's after-dinner nap

not to the Rectory drawing-room and Lady Octavia, but to the cottage parlor and its gentle occupant, whose delighted and grateful surprise at sight of the unexpected visiter, made him first fully sensible of what she (the least selfish and exacting of human beings) had never even hinted-how lonely she had been in his absence; and he fancied, besides, that an appearance of more than usual languor was perceptible about her, though at sight of him a rich and beautiful glow suffused her before colorless cheek, and her sweet eyes glistened (not sparkled) with affectionate welcome, as she exclaimed, "Dear Horace! is it you?-How good you are to steal away to me! But could you do so without incivility ?-what will they think at the Rectory?"

"I don't care what they think, Milly!" replied Vernon, quickly. "This is all very wrong-very hard upon us. Here you sit, left alone, evening after evening, deprived of exercise-of the quiet walks we so enjoyed together; and I am sure, though you said nothing, you have missed them very much. Why did you not take Nora's arm, and stroll out this fine evening, Milly ?"—" O, I did not care to walk without you, dear Horace, and Nora is busy in her dairy at this hour, you know; and besides," she added, with a cheerful smile, "I am very busy also, and shall get through a marvellous deal of work now you are not here to make me idle." That evening, however, Millicent was but too happy to relinquish her notable employment for pleasant idleness, and sweet companionship, and the reviving freshness of the bright green fields. The lovers talked together of their approaching union, their unambitious hopes of quiet happiness, their plans of active usefulness and wise frugality to be patiently and firmly pursued, till the better times

flattering condescenion, and the eclat of making so public an appearance with the high-born beauty familiarly leaning on his arm. It was not until he had conducted the fair stranger through the double file of gazers, that lined the long central aisle, up to the Rector's pew, and left her there, properly accommodated with hassock and prayer-book, and till he had withdrawn to put on his surplice in the vestry it was not till then that a thought of Millicent again recurred to him. But then it did recur, and so painfully, that even after he had ascended the pulpit, and was about to commence that sacred office which should have abstracted his mind from all worldly concerns, he found it impossible to restrain his wandering and troubled thoughts; and his heart smote him, when, glancing downwards on the assembling congregation, his eyes rested on the empty pew where poor Millicent should have been already seated, and that immediately adjoining already occupied by the fair stranger whom he had conducted thither.

It was the custom at Sea Vale church to begin the first service with the morning hynin, not one verse of which was ever omitted by the zealous throats of the village choristers; and on this particular morning, those sweet singers of Israel, in concertor rather out of concert-with bassoon and bass viol, had groaned, droned, and quavered through the first five verses, when the church door fronting the pulpit, at the end of the long middle aisle, slowly opened, and two female forms appeared at it. One, the humble, homely person of Nora Carthy, dropped aside into some obscure corner; and Miss Aboyne, who had been leaning on the arm of her faithful attendant, came slowly and timidly up the long aisle, with ill-assured and faltering steps, her tall slender form bending under evident languor and weakness. She still wore the deepest and plainest mourning, and her face was almost entirely concealed by a large bonnet and a long crape

veil. On reaching the door of her own pew, her tremulous hand-even from that distance Vernon saw that it trembled-found some difficulty in unhasping it, and an old grey-haired man started forward from his bench in the aisle to render her that little service, in return for which she gently inclined her head, and in another moment had sunk on her knees in the farthest corner of the pew.

Vernon saw all this, too well recalling to mind poor Millicent's nervous anxiety to be quietly seated in church before the arrival of strangers; and he saw, besides; what he hoped had been unperceived by Miss Aboyne through her thick veil, that Lady Octavia had stood up in her pew to gaze on the late comer as she slowly advanced up the church, and was still taking leisurely survey through an eyeglass of her kneeling figure. Vernon observed all this with acutely painful consciousness, and when the hymn was concluded, it was only by a powerful. effort that he applied himself seriously to his solemn duty.

When next he glanced towards Miss Aboyne's pew, (while the first psalm was being sung,) her veil was flung back, and he observed with pleasure that her sweet countenance wore its wonted expression of perfect serenity, and that she was too intent on the sacred words in her hymn-book, and too much engrossed by the utterance of her tribute of prayer and praise, to be sensible that the brilliant eyes of her fair neighbor, still assisted by the raised eye-glass, were fixed in curious scrutiny of her person and features. In truth, Miss Aboyne had perfectly recovered from the nervous trepidation which had distressed her on first entering the church; awful consciousness of the Creator's presence soon superseded all thought of the creature in her pious heart, and when at last her eyes caught an accidental glance of her fair neighbor, the only feeling that for a moment drew her earthward, was one of admiration for Lady Octavia's striking loveliness. In her entire abstraction from self, not even did the