couldn't even catch sight of her to wish her "God speed." A year's use of the golden ointment the sire Thwaites made has not obliterated the marks of the past, has it, mother?'

Mrs. Forrester could in her heart forgive her son for being vicious on the subject of Eliza Thwaites, but she also felt that it would be wellnot to encourage him in this vein; so she replied,, 'Mrs. Ponsonby thinks as I do, Charles, that as the foundation is so thoroughly good, intimate intercourse with those of her own age, and sex, and station, will soon raise a superstructure of as fair an exterior as any who are staying here now; she is not showy certainly-'

'Decidedly not,' interrupted Captain Forrester.

'But she possesses a rectitude of mind that is truly admirable,' pursued his mother, without noticing his remark.

The fire had burned out now, and Mrs. Forrester had said her say; so she rose up, and, after having taken a tender leave of her son, she left him to his own reflections, while she retired at once to her own room, not to sleep, but to meditate. That Charles had something to confess she felt sure, and that that something was his (perhaps avowed) attachment to Kate Elton she did not doubt. But she had impressed him now with the necessity that existed for his endeavouring to replenish his always empty purse himself; and she knew that the only way that would occur to her handsome, but not remarkably talented son to do this, would be to make a wealthy marriage. She had avoided his confession, too, which, as she did not want to take extreme measures, she was very glad of: she determined that on the following day Kate Elton should be delicately given to understand that all poaching on Miss Thwaites's preserves would be regarded as a punishable offence, and that Charles should have judicious doses of the heiress so well mixed with the society of others that he should be puzzled as to which was the agreeable element. If all this failed she would

not despair, for she knew that if Charles once felt the shoe of poverty compress-not to say pinch himhe would accept the fate that yawned for him readily enough. And, after all,' she thought, 'it most likely will be a very happy one; she is not, I allow, a woman to inspire a sudden and devoted attachment; but then the sterling qualities she no doubt possesses will eventually win upon Charles, who, like all wild young men, will be far happier with such a wife than with-any girl he has been in the habit of flirting with. He will have the sense to prefer the true gold to dross.'

By the true gold,' singularly enough, Mrs. Forrester did not mean the ten thousand a year, but Eliza Thwaites; while, by the 'dross,' she did allude to Kate Elton. And then her thoughts flew -no, walked steadily-off to the plans she had formed for that other child, for Flora, who, as surely as she suspected anything of the kind, would defeat them, even if by so doing she wrung her own heart to breaking. Charles was easy to manage in comparison with his sister, over whom no threats of reduced allowances or curtailed pleasures would have any effect. This was the first evening since their arrival at Kempstowe that Flora had not caused her mother's heart to ache through the injudicious preference she had shown for Mr. Greville; but to-night a bit of the silver lining to this special cloud had appeared. Flora had been talking-talking, too, as if she was interested in her listener, and as if (what was even more to the purpose) her listener was interested in her-to Philip Morton, who could, unless report greatly erred, play at throwing away guineas with the heiress. He was more congenial, too, to her maternal heart than that young lady, for he was handsome, polished, and winning to an extraordinary degree. And here, in the solitude of her chamber, she could not successfully banish from her mind the reflection that Eliza Thwaites was the reverse of all this.

But she dared not pause, with a thought of going back, on the path

along which she was desirous of leading them. The Dean had been a poor clergyman when elevated, about six years before the time my story opens, to the deanery, which had been a vast expense, and but small comfort to him. He had always been a little what he termed 'behind the world,' through having counted some chickens before they were hatched, when furnishing with great splendour the stiff, huge, uncomfortable house in the cathedral close, which not even the splendid furniture could render other than dull and hideous. He had been a poor rector in a parish full of rich men quite long enough to grow extremely sensitive, or, as his loving flock termed it, thin-skinned;' and he found that even now, as a Dean, 'the world' was a little inclined to look coolly, or, at least, not warmly, upon him, through that circumstance of his being behind it.' Flora, therefore, his beautiful daughter, would be left in but a dubious position-that of a refined, fashionable, lovely woman without a penny-should the weak thread that chagrin was wearing thinner every day be snapped before she married. Flora was not of the stuff of which nursery governesses are made. None of these things, however, did Mrs. Forrester dare to say to her high-spirited daughter, who would ruthlessly, in spite of her habitual gentleness, have baulked anything that looked like a plot, and exposed anything that looked like a manœuvre.

Captain Forrester, meanwhile, still remained in Mrs. Ponsonby's boudoir. The fire had gone out entirely, but he was warm enough now. He had no intention, not the remotest, of being false to Kate'dear little thing! he adored her'but all the same he did hope very fervently that Kate would not be rashly saying anything which might get round to his mother's ears. He dreaded the thought of the neverending line of 'talk' that would in that case be uncoiled for his benefit, and he rose up hurriedly and paced the room as the idea developed itself, and felt that way madness lies.' But, despite his dislike to

family jars and all the ills that poverty brings in its train, he was far from entertaining a thought of buying a peaceful future by seeking the broad-fingered hand of Miss Thwaites. However, he resolved that, for the sake of conciliating his mother thoroughly, he would, while they all remained at Kempstowe, be as kind, polite, and attentive to the heiress as possible; his mother would then suppose that he was striving to forward her views, and constraining himself to do her pleasure; and this would soften her, he hoped, and render her willing to serve him when he dared to throw off the veil, or, if not so, would at least prevent her endeavouring to thwart him.

His greatest fear just now was about Kate herself. The latter was the spirit of gentleness to those she loved, and she did very truly love Charles Forrester; but there was a look in those brown eyes that told him it might be dangerous to woo their owner with fervour one day, and quietly neglect her the next; and, for the furtherance of his plans, he greatly feared that this was what he might have to do. Kate would have bowed down and kissed the hem of Mrs. Forrester's garment for that she was Charlie's mother, had the latter treated her kindly; but he doubted Kate's power to bear unmerited scorn meekly from the Dean's lady, should he even in appearance desert her side. He knew that those little women who stand trembling and quivering and going all the colours of the rainbow in a moment at small dangers, or at the thoughts of far-distant disagreeables, are frequently firebrands when once 'set up; and Kate was one of these. She had been eating dust, so to speak, before Mrs. Forrester all that evening; but Mrs. Forrester, Charlie knew, would be an unwise woman if she presumed on this apparent humility to trample on Miss Kate when it came to open war. Therefore, to avoid open war at present was the brave dragoon's sole aim; and he was not quite clear what steps he had better take to insure a continuance of the blessed though

hollow truce that now reigned. He fervently trusted that peace might be maintained until such time as Flora had married Philip Morton, if she was going to marry him; and then, one of the family having made a wealthy match, the other might surely be allowed to be happy in a humbler way. Very likely it would turn out that affairs with the Dean were not half so bad as his mother had represented; women always made the worst of things: it was their nature to do so. He was disgusted with himself for having agreed so readily to such a shabby move as cutting off a portion of his already insufficient allowance. Considering he was an only son, he was horribly ill-used. He wondered if Kate had half an idea of the social torments he was so gallantly prepared to endure in her behalf? Very probably she had not. And this last thought had the effect of nearly lashing the unhappy young officer into a rage. At this juncture, the wax candles having burnt very low in their sockets, he lighted his own, and conveyed himself as rapidly and quietly as possible to his room, the door of which he bolted and barred with such energy that Eliza Thwaites, in an opposite chamber, went off straight into a nervous fever on the dreamy supposition that some band of burglars were down below amongst the bottles; for, in the witching hour of night' which had passed since she retired to repose, she had travelled back to the dingy house in the dreary street where she had once known such deep peace. The butler, waking up mistily from the combined effects of deep potations of port and his first lethargic slumber, had a vision of some plate being stolen that he had left loose in his pantry, and for which he would be held accountable with extra severity, as amongst it was a racing cup won by a Ponsonby horse, and so ventured down, chill and trembling, in a highly-unbecoming costume of flannel. And an ill-conditioned Scotch terrier belonging to Sir Ulric Lyster, which always occupied a place in his master's room, lifted up

VOL. II.-NO. VII.

his voice in one of those heartrending howls which makes the night hideous.

But by-and-by silence heavier than before fell upon Kempstowe; even harassed Charlie Forrester and the agitated Scotch pug slept, if not a dreamless, at least a deep sleep. But had any one been out on the lawn in the middle of which was the kaleidoscope garden, he would have seen through ore window a brilliant light gleaming; and had that same person been desirous of pushing inquiry further, he could, by risking his neck, have reached a parapet which would afford him standing room while he looked in to see who was up. It would have been time and trouble thrown away, though, for the occupant of that chamber bad not stayed up to gaze at the stars; therefore his blind was down. It was Horace Greville who sat at that little table; and he had before him two slight sketches-of a female head. He had a pencil in his hand, and occasionally here and there he would add a touch, a stroke SO delicate that it was scarcely perceptible; yet, slight as these touches were, under his hand grew out of one of the bold but unfinished sketches a vivid likeness of Lady St. Clair. A dot, a scratch, the tiniest stroke, these were all he had given to the work Philip Morton had begun, thrown aside, and forgotten till he retired at night, when he had gathered them all up, and, as he thought, destroyed them. But these minute touches had given force and character to the likeness, though Philip himself would have found it difficult to say where they had been put in.

'It will do quite well enough for my purpose now,' he said, after a time, leaning back as he spoke, and looking at the head, which he held up to the light, out of his half-closed velvet, gleaming eyes; it will do well enough for my purpose.' And then he folded it up, and placed it away carefully in his pocketbook next to a letter Philip had given him conveying instructions to his (Philip's) bankers in the matter of the estate that was to be hired.

M

*

T. H.

HE friends of whom we here

THE

speak are not Uncle Clutterbuck and his family, who have come up from the country to see the International Exhibition, and who are well-nigh exhausting our strength and patience in sightseeing; nor are the neighbours here referred to the quiet family next door, or the rackety people in the house over the way. Our friends, on the present occasion, are the British Colonies; our neighbours are France and Germany, and other countries on the Continent. We want to ascertain, so far as the Exhibition will tell us, whether the foreigners have been hitting us very hard, in their industrial advance since 1851; and whether the colonists, the friendly children of old John Bull, are furnishing us with compensatory advantages for meeting the rivalry.

It is, of course, worth knowing whether the makers of costly jewellery, delicate porcelain, brocaded silks, or point-lace veils, are able to maintain their own against the competition of foreigners; but it is

more important to trace the comparison in reference to articles of general consumption, in which a larger number of persons are interested, and on which the well-being of all more notably depends.

As to raw produce, the natural substances on which the industry of man is to be applied, it is almost wicked to talk disparagingly of rivalry. The more there is of natural produce generally, the greater the blessing to all of us, if we only make proper use of it. Take the case of coal, for instance. Ought we to feel jealous at learning that several foreign countries have developed new beds and seams of coal in the period of eleven years, since the last Exhibition? Good sense and proper feeling will answer, No. Suffice it to know that our geologists can trace in this island coal enough to last us for centuries to come, and to supply the wants of many of our continental neighbours. If those neighbours, or some of them, can find coal cheaper at home, so much the better for