though I made up my mind to go, I thought it would be more becoming in me to hang back awhile from his proposal, so that when I yielded, 'twould seem I loved him more than my modesty.

"Sir," I said, "as I shall be one day your wife, so it should be my pride to give you occasion always to respect me. But if I attend you alone to a masquerade, what title shall I have to your esteem ?"

"Nay, dearest," says he fondly; "do you think your kindness is like to forfeit my esteem? Sure you know me not, if you think I am not more easily to be won by a tender, yielding nature, than by a character made as prickly by virtues as the porcupine. Besides, you should consider that since we love each other with so violent a passion -at least I'll answer for mine-"

"And I for mine," said I, languishingly.

"'Twould be," he continued, "a thousand shames were we not to seize upon every occasion to be together. Be sure I'll arrange matters that your delicacy shall be no more pained than was you to be going to an assembly under the escort of your father. I warrant you, 'twill be a heavy disappointment for me should you refuse;

I consent to accompany Mr. B. 249

for ever since I have entertained the idea, I have been anticipating the happiness of an whole evening passed in uninterrupted enjoyment of your company. And, dearest, indeed you stand in need of a little diversion; for the constraint and dulness of Wimpole Street will weigh as heavy upon you as frost, if you do not thaw the burden by suffering the warm light of pleasure to shine upon it."

"Ah, sir!" said I, with a roguish look, "sure you have borrowed the song of the syren to decoy me from the path of duty. What should a poor girl's resolution avail against the musick and beauty of so consummate a pleader!"

"Then you will come?" cries he, eagerly.

"Since you will it," said I; "it is not for a mistress to deny so tender and earnest a lover. Perhaps, sir, you will think better of my love, now that you see how I sacrifice decorum on its shrine."

I never doubted thy love, child,” he answered, pressing my hand to his mouth; “indeed, my own passion is too violent to admit doubt. When we love wildly we love blindly."

"Well, sir, and now about the arrangements."

He answered, "At half an hour after seven on Monday, you will come to No. 18, Great Castle Street, where you will meet me. A maid will conduct you to a chamber, where you'll find a masquerade dress you can exchange for your own. You'll know what excuses to contrive to account for your absence to the Astons."

"I will pretend I am to visit Mr. Boothby." "That will do," said he. Then inspecting his watch, "'Tis time we should part." He would have embraced me, but curtseying to him with a laugh, I tripped away, and reached Wimpole Street five minutes after the time I had proposed

to return.

THE

HE next day, Dr. Aston looking into the library and finding me alone (for Miss Aston was taking the air with my lady in the chariot), came in and seated himself.

"It is absurd," said he, "considering we two live in the same house, how little we see of one another. Some might think it a privilege to be so much occupied as to have no leisure for the serious business of pleasure; but I protest I would be glad to dispense with a few of my patients, that, if I lost money, I might gain time.” "I do not doubt, sir, you find it very harassing to be so much occupied."

"Indeed I do, Miss Boothby; and it is beginning to impair my health too. You yourself know how seldom I can get my dinner as it comes hot from the cook. I can never retire to rest with the conviction that I shall enjoy an uninterrupted

I am

repose until the morning. I am obliged to live strictly, lest appetite should cloud my judgment or wine impair the coherence of my views. indeed a martyr, madam : at home I am denied any continuance of enjoyment, and abroad I am wearied and disgusted by the peevish complaints of valetudinarians, to prescribe for whom is positively a violation of medical honour, whilst to neglect them is to give pain to minds already sufficiently tortured by the pangs of hypochondriasm."

"Sure, sir," said I, with a smile, "there can be no further need for you to devote yourself to so ungenerous a calling. 'Tis time you should make society repay you for the care you have taken of it by causing it to unfold its diversions and inviting you to their participation."

Ah, madam," said he, with a smile, "'tis all very well to talk of retiring; I could have left my profession a long time ago, but I pushed on with it, always feeding my desire of retirement with a perpetual renovation of vows, to end in an eternal succession of disappointments; and now when I am prepared to abandon it, comes an obstacle in my daughter's marriage. She will