I curious studies. They would have The next letter is dated five or six years later, and is from Eveline's bro left the army in the last peace! had done enough that I should not have feared having anything wrong said of me; and I feel that, however campaigning may suit a bachelor, there is no place for an honest married man but his own dear home, with its fireside, and the wife and children of his heart around it. And, whilst I am plodding on in our marches, in these deep roads, and behold the family groups crowding to their doors to see us pass, and the little faces of the young ones turned up to ask explanations of their mother, or the lad climbing up to his father's shoulders to have a better view,-my heart has yearned for Arlescot, and for those who are there gathered together, and I have scarcely kept from weeping. And yet I have, now and then, reasons for thanks and gratitude to Heaven. When-and it happens not seldom-ther, Sir Henry, who was then at Paris. the people are plundered, and put to sufferings of which I cannot and will not speak, my heart has swelled with joy that such things do not take place in our island. My own dear Margaret, I think of you, and Eveline, and Mary; and my heart blesses the Almighty that such things are far from you. Yet I dreamed last night that Arlescot was pillaged and on fire, and that you were under the large firs in front of the entrance, when a soldier came up, who was drunk as well as brutal, and who was about to discharge his pistol at you, when Eveline, who till then had been trembling, gained sudden courage for the moment, and convulsively snatched hold of the piece, which turned the muzzle towards the man himself, and the shock causing the discharge, the ball struck him, and he fell. "I should not tell you foolish dreams, were it not that this serves to show how much you all live in my mind. And, besides, this dream spoke truth of Eveline: it is just as she would have acted, delicate as she is, if you had been in danger.-Pray write me long accounts of yourself, and all of you; and above all, let me hear how Eveline gets on in all her Poor Sir John had never again seen that family, for whom his love was so strong and so tender: he was killed at Minden. Sir Henry, then about oneand-twenty, had been on the continent a great deal since, while Lady Meynell and her daughters had lived chiefly at Arlescot. The remainder, as regards that date, the letter itself will speak : "Paris, June, 1764. "DEAREST EVELINE.-The tone of my few last letters will, I think, to one so clear-sighted, prevent any great surprise being called forth by the contents of this. that I allude to my approaching marriage with Mademoiselle de Villebois ; and hearty and fervent, I am confident, will be your wishes, that that marriage may be to me the source of the degree of happiness which a happy marriage alone can produce. You will readily guess "Of course, once the matter was finally determined upon, my heart turned to you. And now, Eveline, I must speak more at large concerning yourself than I have ever yet done to yourself-for I am certain, when you have read the grounds on which I found the entreaty I am about to make, that you will grant it. "What I wish, then, is that, as long as you remain a Meynell, you should make one of your brother's family. You know that brother is more really attached to you than is any one else in the world ;-he knows you better-and therefore he cannot be otherwise. I am quite well aware of all that is said about the annoyance and danger of a third person being resident in a bridal house, especially when that person is of the bridegroom's kin instead of the bride's. But this, to be true, requires that one of the three should have qualities which I hope none of us possess. It argues, in particular, littleness of mind on the part of one of the female members of the trio:—what your's is I need not tell you-what Adelaïde's is, lover as I am, I know. "It would surprise you, indeed, if you were to be aware of the extent to which she is proud of you already and of the impatience she feels at not being yet able to love you as I do. Strong and fervent as my passion is for Adelaïde, I cannot be blind to the extreme advantage which your society would be to her. She is a year younger than you-and, brilliant as are her talents, and expanded as I am convinced her mind will more and more rapidly become,-still she has not had your advantages to cultivate her natural gifts to the most sound and productive effect. She has exactly that character of feeling which, so far from being envious at this, will admire, with all her warmth of disposition, the merit itself, and be grateful, with all its generous tenderness, for the benefits it will produce in her. Yes, Eveline, she is worthy even of being your sister-and if I think that, you may be quite sure that there is no fear that any discordancy should arise through her means. "As for the paltry and unintelligible jealousy which I have heard sometimes arises on a sister's part at the brother's love for his wife exceeding that for her, I will not insult you by speaking on the subject. You know full well that my affection for you is second only to that which the nature of things must, in every man, make the first-or probably it is in character they differ rather than in degree. "Let me hear from you, dear Eveline, to tell me that you will add to the happiness of our home-till you leave us to make another home less happy only because there will not be such a third as at Arlescot. H. M. "Henri m'a confié le sujet sur lequel il vous écrivait je me l'ai fait montrer sa lettre. Tout ce qu'il dit est vrai, hormis les louanges exagge rés dont il m'accable. Je vous prie de croire, ma deja-chère sœur, que mon âme partage son desir que vous fassiez le tiers de cet heureux trio dont il parle avec une tendresse si aimable et si vraie. A. de V." My readers will now begin to see pretty clearly the sense in which Eveline had received the title of the Second Best. Her father had preferred only the wife of many and affectionate years-her brother had given but slight superiority to the object of his young yet perfect love. The next letter, however, speaks stronger still. It is from the young lady Meynell, about a year after her marriage, to a young lady with whom she had formed an early intimacy. In the preceding letter I have left the little postcript in the original-but this is long enough to need translation. "So you have returned from Italy after your bridal tour of a year-and lo! you express surprise, first, at my being married; secondly, at my having married an Englishman; and above all, at my having consented to live in England. "As for the first cause of wonder, you forget, ma chère, that time advances, and that I was only a month younger at the period of my marriage than you were at your's. With regard to my marrying an Englishman, you don't know what an Englishman Sir Henry is. He has all the polish of our most cultivated Parisians, without any of their frivolity of manner, or frequent littleness of mind. His delicacy of manners, indeed, arises from his own mind, instead of from the mimicry of others-which, in truth, prevents the word delicacy being applicable in its strict sense. Besides, he has a strength of character, and a reality of purpose, which the difference of position between an English gentleman and one of our petits-maitres de Cour, must, in the mass of instances, necessitate*. Do not think I am folle d'amour, thus to speak. No; every month I live with my husband, my love for him, if it cannot well increase in mere degree, becomes of a more intensely tender, as well as of a far nobler, character. "As to my living in England, I certainly consented at first from its being the country of the man whom I married because I loved him. You know that I am of the religion of this country-indeed, if it had not been for the difference of customs which, to some extent, distinguishes the Protestants at Paris, Sir Henry and I never could have known each other before our marriage sufficiently for our affection to become what it did. It is true, then, I resigned my country for my husband.-My parents were dead; but they had not been so long enough for the aunt, with whom I lived, at all to supply their place in my affections. It therefore cost me but little to resign that Paris you all prize so much, for the sake of one whom I both esteemed and loved beyond the power of words to speak. "But now, I would not go back to France, save for an occasional visit, on any account-except it were his wish-and of that there is little fear. You can have no idea of what a country-life is in England. The dull, dismal, comfortless-vous ne connaissez pas même le terme-vous n'avez pas le mot pour le rendre,-je dirai que le comfort embrace, dans son meilleur sens, tout ce qui fait passer la vie journaliere avec une jouissance la plus sauve et constante ;-mais même ici on abuse de cet mot, à force de s'en servir.” [I could not resist leaving this in the original-for it shows to an Englishman how thoroughly Lady Meynell felt what Comfort is in its highest signification, and yet how utterly her language was incapable to express what she understood so well. Το resume.] "The dull, dismal, comfortless life at a château in a distant province in France, can give you no conception of how we live in the country here. Here, at Arlescot, is an admirable house, of various dates, though all old -but not like your father's château in Champagne. excellent and even luxurious; and the society of our neighbors, and our London friends who come down for weeks together, is delightful. Here everything is "But, for nearly all the summer months, we were by choice alone. That is, there were no visiters-but our family circle is completed by a sister of Sir Henry's whom he has prevailed upon to live with us. Oh ! Clara, such a woman I never met!such talents!—such knowledge!—such exquisite tact !-for it is that which springs from delicate feelings, not the factitious tinsel of the world ;-such matchless kindness of manner!—for its source is an incomparable heart. I never shall cease to think of the bursting affection with which she received her brother, on his arrival-still less shall I forget the numberless, and nameless, and indescribable offices of the truest and most considerate friendliness, by which she contrived to set me at my ease among strangers of whose habits of living I could know nothing-in a foreign land, of every custom of which I was of necessity ignorant. Nay, from what I did see, I am confident that there are a thousand delicate kindnesses which I never saw at all. "Figure to yourself, Clara, if you It is to be remembered that the date of this is in the last ten years of Louis XV.'s reign— the most frivolous and contemptible era of French society. can,--which I doubt exceedingly,-a an exquisite charm till bed-time, that, young person, not even now above one-and-twenty, with a face of extreme intellectual beauty without some share of which no mere physical regularity of feature deserves the name of beauty at all,-and which, as in the case of Eveline, can fully compensate for that far lower quality being incomplete. Her features certainly are not regular :—but the combination du bon sens et de l'âme I never saw equally combined in any face before, and I had no conception of what that combination could produce, till now. Her countenance, in repose, has a mixture of strong mind and placid thought with a general benevolent meaning, and unbounded goodness of heart. But to see it brighten with the arousing of her intellect on some subject in which she takes warm interest, --or kindle with intense affection, or soften with sweet tenderness, towards those on whom her feelings are really fixed,—this, indeed, must excite any one with admiration who has either head or heart sufficient to deserve to class among human beings. "Helas! and it is I who am writing thus I whom you recollect so giddy a girl! Yes, but it is impossible to live a year with such persons as Henry and his sister, without imbibing higher thoughts and stronger and more amiable feelings. Of him I need not say more. But I could not have believed it possible that any one could replace him during the few and short absences he has been compelled to make, as she has done. I never met a woman who had such information without having the very slightest tinge of a précieuse :-she never produces anything, all comes so naturally, so much of course, that it would seem almost to be affected that she should withhold it. In our evenings, when Henry and I returned from wandering along the sweet gardens together, and pausing on the banks of the stream, and silently enjoying the mere consciousness of being together,we used to find Eveline just come in from some errand of her charity in the villageand the hours have passed with such even in my bridal year, I have never once wished her away. It is true, indeed, that she takes care that we often shall be alone ;-but this is never done as though it were contrived, but seems as if it naturally sprang from her being engaged in her own pursuits. "I have used the phrase her chari ty. And well I may! It is indeed no common alms-giving. She knows the history of the wants, the struggles, and the merits of every family in the village. Oh! how I bless her for having shown me, by her practice-scarcely at all by direct precept - what heavenly effects a dame de paroisse may produce in this country, if she know the proper means, and is willing to exert herself ever so little. I trust, if she should form a connection such as alone she would form-and I doubt, from certain indications, whether she ever will-that my watching and studying her admirable conduct on this point may in some degree soften her loss to the poor. That it will fully supply it I never can hope for they have known kind Mistress Eveline' from her childhood upwards. They have seen her goodness from its earliest bud of promise to its present full bearing of fruit. You "Oh! how my admiration and love of my noble and affectionate husband, and of his incomparable sister urge me on to warmth of expression. will scarcely believe this letter to have been written by your light-hearted giddy play-fellow Adelaide. The giddiness is gone, but the lightness of heart is not-or rather it is raised to a sensation of happiness of a degree of delicate and exquisite enjoyment such as I did not then know existed. And this I owe to both my husband and his sister ;-for, if my love for him be an affection far superior to any of which I had conceived the existence, so is my friendship for her, which ranks second only to that, a feeling such as I had no idea that Friendship ever could be." This speaks well for more women than one. Here is a girl, bred in Pa ris-if not, from the peculiarity of her lection,-both personal, and of what I position arising from religion, in its have heard my father say, sometimes worst—namely, its courtly-circles, to me, and now and then to others, certainly in its worst times;-a beau- when my early age prevented his ty-nor that only, but distinguished thinking of my presence,-concerning for her liveliness, I might say brillian- my Aunt Eveline. Nothing I have cy, in society-here is one thus cir- heard said of that beloved being ever cumstanced unconsciously becoming of escaped my memory. I could not strong and finely fervent feelings, and apply all of it then-but the words of sound and reliable judgment, from have remained in my remembrance, her union with a man of sense and of and their meaning is clear to me now. virtue-and from continued intercourse with such a woman as Eveline Meynell. The progress of this heightening of character was, as I have said, imperceptible to her in its progress but such changes can never long continue to exist unknown to those who have undergone them. "You remind me that the period is nearly approaching at which a year will be completed since my poor father died. I know well that it is only the strong impulse of your fondness for me that can have led you to hint at this-for, to do you justice, you do no more than hint-for you, of all the world, must feel that, neither as to retrospect nor prospect, can I need reminding. The loss of such a father as mine must leave painful sensations of sorrow long after the early violence of grief has passed away and I feel it would be affectation, and not delicacy, to deny that the hope of being united to one between whom and myself such attachment exists, and has so long existed, as our's, produces to me a full assurance of a life of happiness. "But the particular object of this letter, dearest Edward, is to give you all the information within my recol48 ATHENEUM, VOL. 2, 3d series. "You say that, of course, she will come and live with us; and that, therefore, you should like to know her character thoroughly. I do not wonder that you should desire to be enlightened on some few points of that character, notwithstanding your strong admiration of the whole. If you had seen more of Aunt Eveline than chance circumstances have allowed you to do, you would need no information at all. I have seen this often, and longed to speak to you about her, as you now own you wished to do to me. Thus has fastidious nicety restrained us both from conversing on a subject upon which we both desired to come to a thorough understanding. As it is, I will give you all that I know concerning her. "You first ask how it is she has never married-with all her talents and information, and with her very peculiar but still admirable beauty, and her warm and affectionate character of heart? I think I know-for I remember what my father thought on the subject and he was likely to be right. I recollect hearing him say, that he thought her ideas were pitched so high, as to what men ought to be, that she had never seen one who had in the slightest degree touched her feelings; while, on the other hand, most men found out, in any duration of intercourse with her, that she was far beyond them in both power and cultivation of mind, and therefore shrank back, all of them in fear, and many in irritation and annoyance. 'Poor Eveline !' I recollect bis adding, how little does she believe she ever annoyed or irritated anybody!how totally her conduct has ever been |