Woodville, where they were kindly and hospitably received by Lord Elsdale, and, as Manvers had predicted in regard to himself, amicably and agreeably by Henry, who, in his quiet manner, omitted no attention that could contribute to his townsman's comfort. They remained here about a week, and then left for Ostend. During this visit Manvers had succeeded in giving Lord Elsdale a very favourable impression of himself; and though Henry lost nothing in his esteem by the comparison he naturally made between them, it was impossible not to allow that in all exterior points of character Manvers was infinitely the superior. He had managed also so adroitly to suit himself to his lordship's taste, that he had already placed himself on a footing with him, to which Henry had never aspired. Uniformly cautious and modest in his observations, the latter was seen to his greatest advantage in private intercourse. He never obtruded his views in conversation, but when his sentiments were asked, he gave them at once candidly and with judgment. Nor on any occasion could he be made to say what he did not mean, either to suit his opinions to those of another, merely to please, or from a fear to give offence.

It was curious, on the other hand, to observe how carefully Manvers, during the short stay he made at Woodville, avoided the open avowal of his sentiments on any subject till Lord Elsdale had declared his-a circumstance which the latter ascribed to respect for himself, or to a feeling of modesty highly becoming Manvers' age and station. When once, however, he had ascertained his Lordship's views, his words flowed with a degree of eloquence and richness of thought that could not fail to charm. Sir George saw the effect produced on his uncle's mind, and was much gratified. So, too, did Henry; but it awoke no feeling of envy or jealousy, and he cordially joined in the admiration. Still he spoke with circumspection, for though he saw and warmly admitted the vast powers of Manvers, and the high cultivation of his mind, he was not more disposed than formerly to form a more intimate acquaintance with him.

A reciprocal feeling and opinion of their visitor existed in the mind of the elder pupil of Henry, Mr. Charles Mansell.

"There is something exceedingly fascinating about Mr. Weston," said he one day to Henry; "and yet there is something wanting in him that I cannot exactly define. Could I but place you in my situation, a mere listener to the conversation going on after dinner, you would at once know what I mean, and would be struck with the difference between yourself and him. The

sentiments you once express, you maintain-your language is as simple as it is clear, and you come to the point direct and without the slightest ambiguity. I never, on the contrary, see where Mr. Weston is leading me, nor do I generally comprehend his views. He interests and charms me, but he never convinces me, nor do I think his own convictions on any subject are very strong. His digressions are as various as they are rapid, and, but for the brilliancy with which he invests them, would be as fatiguing as they are bewildering."

“Why you are using as many words as Mr. Weston himself," said his brother James, who, with a book in his hand, which he was pretending to read, had been listening attentively to the conversation. "Now I will express my sentiments in one line. I admire him,—I trust you;" and he looked affectionately at Henry.

"Bravo!" said Charles, "you have hit it off exactly."

Henry smiled. "Mr. Weston loves an argument,” said he. "I love the truth; he will shine in public life—”

"And you in private," exclaimed Charles, promptly. "But what a curious fellow you are, James! You always seem to have both eyes and ears shut to what is passing, yet nothing escapes you."

The months passed happily away at Woodville, and as it would seem with the party abroad, for the most satisfactory reports continued to be received. Lord Elsdale, whose feelings on political subjects were very strong, was zealously attached to the existing government, and as such passed many months in town from Woodville. His family consisted of three sons and a daughter, who at the death of her mother was placed at school in London. Her holidays had always been spent at Woodville, and no inconsiderable part of her time at her father's house in Grosvenor Square, when the family were residing there. Between herself and her brothers the warmest attachment subsisted. She loved them, she loved their sports, and she loved their studies too; and Lord Elsdale allowed her to share their instruction whenever it pleased her. And never was pupil more apt or more engaging. Innocent in mind and heart, a pure child of nature, there was a fascination about her manners that was far more irresistible than beauty itself, of which, however, she had a considerable share.

Between herself and Henry the most perfect cordiality, without any approach to familiarity, existed. Her presence in the study was always as a bright sunbeam, giving life and animation to all

around; but, like the warmth and cheerfulness imparted by that beam, it had a sacred and purifying influence. Miss Mansell had just completed her seventeenth year, and had now, after an absence of six months, taken up her residence entirely at Woodville. Her return was hailed with general satisfaction. She had become a botanist; her brother James and Mr. Welsh were proficients in the science, and it was necessary to have frequent recourse to them, even sometimes to the interruption of a graver study.

Accustomed to her society, and still hardly conscious that the lively girl was ripening fast into womanhood, Henry had never felt occasion to question the nature of the admiration with which he viewed her. The very diffidence peculiar to him, and the deep respect he entertained, not only for Lord Elsdale but for every member of his family, exposed him to danger rather than shielded him from it. There would have been presumption in the idea that there was a necessity to place a guard over his affections. Contented and happy in his position, the faithful discharge of his duty had alone occupied his thoughts, nor had any regret risen in his mind, except when it occurred to him that his services would naturally cease to be required, and that his presence at Woodville would consequently be unnecessary. Still there was something to cheer him in his prospects for the future. The best living in the gift of Lord Elsdale was held by a very old man. It was true that his Lordship had never positively promised this to Henry, for it was a rule of his life never to commit himself in any such respects; but his sons, without any scruple, talked of his succeeding Mr. Mason, the present incumbent, as a settled point, and laid many bright plans for still higher preferment.

A circumstance now, however, occurred, which made a great revolution in the feelings of Henry. Mr. Charles Mansell, his elder pupil, having kept his first term at Cambridge, had returned to Woodville, accompanied by a young man of high connexions and large property. Charles was much attached to him; and the idea at once sprang up in his mind that Herbert Seabright would make the best husband imaginable for his sister Lucy, and the one of all others the most agreeable to himself. It was therefore with infinite satisfaction that he saw the impression his sister soon made on his friend; nor was Lord Elsdale, who quickly perceived his rising attachment, less gratified. Henry, too, was struck with Mr. Seabright's marked attention to Miss Mansell, and was startled. "Why should it give me pain?" was the question he repeated to himself, but to which he could give no satisfactory answer.

"What was Miss Mansell to him, or what could be said in disparagement of Mr. Seabright?" The rightly-governed heart is never left long to wander in the mazes of uncertainty and doubt; the truth, with all its painful aggravations, was soon revealed to him, and the path that duty prescribed was equally clear. Woodville, much as he loved it, was no longer a safe retreat for him; dear as were his pupils to him, and anxious as he was for their welfare, all must yield to sterner considerations for himself. The struggle, however, was severe. It was much to tear himself from such society-from the presence of one, whose sprightliness and innocence had been acting as an all-powerful though unsuspected charm upon him; to abandon his pupils when he was daily becoming more essential to them; to incur, in all probability, the displeasure of Lord Elsdale, and so forfeit his prospects of preferment, and consign himself to comparative poverty and obscurity. No part of the trial was overlooked. Once, as he viewed the past, the idea suggested itself that there might be some feeling in Lucy's mind reciprocal to his. Such a thought was insupportable, and he endeavoured to crush the very recollection of it, and took shame to himself for the presumption that conceived it. He did not suffer himself to vacillate between his notions of right and wrong; his resolution was taken, and he waited only for an opportunity to communicate his intention to Lord Elsdale.

Breakfast was ended. Henry lingered near the library-door in expectation of seeing Lord Elsdale enter it; but, fi.ding that something had delayed him, he went into his own study. On the table lay a letter from his father. He quickly opened it, for he trusted to find solace to his uneasiness in the affectionate expressions that he knew it would convey. In this he was not mistaken, every word breathed tenderness to him; but that letter contained intelligence that aggravated the painfulness of his situation. Mr. Welsh had met with-to him at least a heavy loss. He wrote much out of spirits, which was an unusual occurrence to him, for he generally looked on the sunny side of all things. Even now he consoled himself, he said, with the brightening prospects of his son; a report having reached him that the living of Dwas on the eve of becoming vacant.

Henry held the letter in his hand. "Shall I add disappointment to disappointment," said he, mentally, "and so heavy a one as I know this must be to him? Can I not for his sake, at least, command myself, and brave both danger and suffering?" And he felt glad that he had not seen Lord Elsdale.

“Mr. Welsh!” cried Charles, laying his hand on his shoulder. He started, while Charles laughed. "I have spoken to you twice without your hearing me. hearing me. Oh, don't apologize, or you will compel me to do the same. I ought not to have broken in upon you thus. I came to ask you to go with me and Mr. Seabright rabbit-shooting; my father has given his consent that James and Arthur should join us."

Henry was glad of something to divert his thoughts, and he readily consented. The keen air and the bright sun gave animation to all but himself, though even he assumed the appearance and tone of enjoyment of the sport. A serious accident, however, had nearly occurred to him. As he and Charles were descending

a declivity, the foot of the latter slipped; his gun, which was loaded, fell to the ground, and discharged its contents so near Henry, that a portion of his hat was carried away.

Evening arrived. "What do you think, Lucy?" said James to his sister, seating himself beside her at the tea-table, "Charles had nearly been the death of Mr. Welsh this morning-see! see! the water is running over," and he laid his hand on the tap of the urn.

"Oh, there is no cause for alarm!" cried Charles; "James is making the most of it. I may have singed a few hairs, and spoilt his hat, but I believe I have done Mr. Welsh no further mischief."

"I have not heard of this," said Lord Elsdale; "what was the accident?"

Charles related the circumstance.

"A very narrow escape indeed," observed his lordship. “I hardly know for whose sake, yours, Charles, or Mr. Welsh's, I am most thankful. One almost shudders at the thought of what might have been."

Henry was taking Lord Elsdale's cup when he said this; as he placed it on the tray before Lucy, she raised her eyes to him. There was an expression in them that thrilled his heart; it was the first-the last-that ever beamed upon him, and it was never forgotten; one only besides himself observed it, and by him too, the all-observant James, it was long remembered.

Henry felt his situation most painful. A former suspicion now flashed vividly on his mind, and bore conviction to his heart. Gladly would he have left the room if he had been able, but it was the custom of Lord Elsdale to engross his conversation at this hour to himself. The subject of their discourse would, at other times, have been interesting to him: as it was, his lordship's