I was again in the street,-again my thoughts reverted to the great enterprise of the day. "To be, or not to be," that was the question. Sunday, too, the better day the better deed. I felt an impulse. As the Quakers say, "the spirit moved me." Such a woman might be snapped up; opportunities like this did not occur every hour. It was decidedand accordingly I slackened my pace, in order to give her time to compose herself after her return from church, and to catch her before people dropped in, as seemed to be the custom of her house, to luncheon.

I was embarked on a new venture-trying a new style of addressI had certainly been lucky in other cases; and although, in the conclusion of my earlier love-affair, I was not entirely successful, inasmuch as circumstances prevented my reaping the happiness which I might have enjoyed under a more favourable conjuncture-I had won a heart -but that was a young, gentle, timid, beating heart, which, perhaps, had never throbbed before I set it in motion-in my own opinion it never throbbed afterwards in the same way-but here I was to make my advances upon a clever, experienced, worldly woman, whose younger sister seemed very much to resemble in character and description the amiable girl who, at first, was, and (I ought not to have admitted it at this particular crisis) to the last, kept possession of my affections; and I wavered a little even on the edge of my declaration, as to whether I should adopt the younger and discard the elder lady. The consciousness that the latter had exhibited infinitely more kindness and consideration towards me than the former, decided me. Yet, still I lingered about the streets, cold, nervous, sick-if she refused me, I should be shut out of her agreeable society-perhaps not-friendship might still be left for us. I could almost hear my heart beat as I turned up Brook-street in my way to her house-well-but " faint heart never won fair lady ". and so, it was to be; and I knocked as boldly as I could at the door-it was opened Mrs. Fletcher Green was at home-and in five minutes I was in the dear boudoir, with the adorable creature herself-but Catherine was there too; and beside her, a guardsman, whose name I forget, and a Count something, whose name ended in Sko, or Sky, as Counts' names very often do.

It was now evident to me that Miss Carter must be a fortune as well as her sister, for the Count was unremitting in his attentions to her; the Captain rather devoted himself to our hostess, but again she exhibited her preference for me, and again made me sit beside her during luncheon, which was protracted, by agreeable conversation, until nearly four o'clock. I began now to be anxious for my opportunity-I began, moreover, to fear that it would not offer, but at last the assiduous Count made a move, and promising to meet the ladies afterwards in the park, retired.

"Mr. Gurney," said Mrs. Fletcher Green, "if you have nothing better to do, dine here to day-we shall not be more than half-a-dozen." "Do," said Catherine.

What could I say?

"Will you, Captain Lark ?"

"Too happy," said the gallant Captain.

"If you mean to ride, Catherine," said Mrs. Fletcher Green, "it is time to get ready; it takes her at least an hour to prepare herself for horseback."

"Ten minutes, you mean," said Catherine; "however, I will go,

leave you to the beaux."

"I must run away," said the Captain.

I wish you would, thought I.

and

"Well, then, I shall leave my sister to the special care and protection of Mr. Gurney," said Catherine.

"You are too obliging, Kate," said Mrs. Fletcher Green, with a look which convinced me that, although she meant it to sound ironical, she really felt herself very much obliged to her.

"Adieu till dinner-time," said the Captain, and away went he in company with the fascinating Kate, she to dress, and he to ride.

The period had now arrived-the moment to which I had so long looked forward was at hand. Mrs. Fletcher Green seemed to me to be instantaneously aware of my awkwardness; she seated herself on a sofa, and made a sort of sign which I could not but construe into an invitation to sit beside her; there was a lurking devil in her eye-I saw that she already anticipated the course I was about to pursue-I felt conscious that I had betrayed myself-but I could not immediately begin a conversation likely to lead directly to the point-a momentary silence therefore ensued-she saved me a world of trouble, and relieved me from all my embarrassment.

"Well," said she, "did you dream of the beautiful widow last night?"

"I should not like to confess my dreams," said I, "at all events to you.'

"What! do you think I should turn evidence against you, and show you up to Lady Harriet?" said my fair companion.

"I certainly did not dream of her," said I.

"I am afraid, then," replied Mrs. Fletcher Green, "that you are not very susceptible-she is lovely-and I could tell you something that might please you; to be sure it might spoil you, for men's heads are very easily turned."

"I admit that," said I; "but I do not exactly think your house the most favourable sphere for Lady Harriet's display."

"Why!" exclaimed she," what has my poor dear darling house done to merit your disapprobation ?"

"Nothing," said I. "But when you are in it, it seems almost as presumptuous, as I am sure it is unwise, for pretenders to admiration to come within its circle."

"What!" said my fair friend, "do you really think me so very agreeable? Upon my word, you do me the greatest possible honour; but I am not blind-you cannot compare me with Lady Harriet-she is younger than I am-and, as for person, she is lovely."

Granted," said I; "but where is the intellect to illuminate those regularly formed features of hers-where is the mind to animate the eyes where the intellect to captivate-where, in short, are all those charms

"Which I," interrupted Mrs. Fletcher Green, " abundance."

possess in such

"You have saved me the trouble of finishing my sentence," said I. "Oh! you must know," said Mrs. Fletcher Green," that I am quite aware of all my own perfections. It would be the height of affectation in me not to feel and to know that I am tolerable enough-that I am

good-natured, high-spirited, and love fun to my heart; but it would be the height of folly in me to suppose that I resembled Lady Harriet in any of those attractions which place her in the first rank of our leading beauties."

"Undeceive yourself," said I, warming with my subject, "there is not a human being on the face of the earth, who could for a moment hesitate in a decision on that point."

"How agreeable," said Mrs. Fletcher Green, "it would be if a woman could but bring herself to believe all the pretty things men say to her. I dare say, the moment you leave this house, you will go to some of your friends, whom I don't know, and show me and Kate up for two mad women, full of flightiness and folly, and, in the ordinary course of worldly proceedings, turn up your hands and eyes, and wonder how two silly creatures at our time of life can make such fools of ourselves." "You do me the greatest injustice," said I.

"Perhaps I do," said my fair hostess; "but I do not do the world generally injustice. I tell you mirth and laughing are my delight—I get together all the pleasant people I can-I make my house agreeable-I select those who like to meet each other-I never permit any serious discussion or grave debate. What you saw last night is a fair specimen of our living; and yet, I am quite aware that this, which is innocence itself, and has only the demerit of being a little unlike the ordinary run of humdrum society, gives vast umbrage to some of the ultra stiff prudes and sages, who, when they see other people happy, shake their old empty heads and croak out--' Ah, something bad will come of it!""

"Do not, pray, class me amongst the empty-headed," said I. "You have opened Elysium to me, and I am but too happy; although, perhaps, that very happiness my lead to misery."

tr

There," exclaimed Mrs. Green, "that's it. You are like the odious frumps I have just been talking of something bad will come of it."" "Not bad," said I, hesitatingly, "but to me, perhaps, much wretchedness."

66

'My dear Mr. Gurney," said Mrs. Fletcher Green, "what can you mean-wretchedness to you? l?"

66

'Yes; to be shown a gleam of such happiness, only to be excluded from it eternally.”

"Why," said the lady, "who is going to exclude you?-you are as welcome as flowers in May. Kate and I have made up our minds to be extremely fond of you; and we have resolved to make you one of our most obedient and faithful knights."

"There are circumstances," said I, "which qualify the brightest pleasures a dread of something-an apprehension-I feel myself unable to explain my meaning-I dare not-but-you will forgive me -your manner to me has been so kind-perhaps, too kind-that my whole heart and soul are enchained by the fascinations which surround me-conscious, too, I am of my own demerits-I dare not venture to say all I feel."

cere.

Here I became overcome by my feelings, which were ardent and sinI looked at my Amelia-I thought of her at that moment by her Christian name-there was an indescribable softness and sweetness in the expression of her countenance-no frown-no pride-no resentment-it was a look

"Good heavens, Mr. Gurney!" said she; "what can you mean? I have too high an opinion of you to suppose that you mean either to insult me or laugh at me. Your conduct is a most cutting satire upon my behaviour to you. You are like the rest of the world, or, at all events, like the rest of your sex. You attribute to motives and principles, unknown to innocent and mirthful hearts, actions the result of high spirits, and then venture to do that which nothing upon earth but the height of imprudence upon my part, or the extreme of presumption upon yours, could possibly account for."

"Calm yourself, dearest woman," said I. "You cannot so much mistake me. I may have erred-I may have presumed upon what I had flattered myself was your kind and delightful preference; but do you-can you imagine, presumptuous as I admit my declaration to be, that I can have any but the best, and purest, and most honourable motives ?"

"You are a very extraordinary person," replied Mrs. Fletcher Green. "You admit a declaration, and talk of your honourable motives. Why, my dear Mr. Gurney, if I could bring myself to believe you serious, I should attribute such conduct, coupled with such language, to madness." "Is there," said I, "is there,—and pray hear me patiently, whatever may be the result,-is there anything like madness-except, perhaps, in having been betrayed into this confession,-is there anything like madness in a devoted admiration of qualities, talents, virtues, and accomplishments like yours? My whole heart and soul, I repeat it, are devoted to you; and if the tenderest care and affection-if a life consecrated to you, can justify the appeal, assure yourself that no human being can be more ardent, more sincere, than I am in

"In what?" exclaimed the lady, who appeared rather alarmed at my earnestness, and who, withdrawing her hand, which I had clasped, added, really agitated, "What do you mean?-what can you mean ?”,

66

Recollect," said I," dearest woman, your axiom of last night as to faint hearts. You have made me bold; do not make me entirely wretched."

'

"Good heavens! are you in your senses ?" said Mrs. Fletcher Green. Perfectly," replied I. "All I seek on earth is a return of that feeling which you have inspired. To plight my faith at the altar-to vow eternal fidelity-to pledge my soul to my affection—is the height of my ambition."

The moment I had uttered these words, the look of astonishment and dismay which had characterized her countenance disappeared: a totally different expression illumined her features; I saw my advantage. Judge my delight when my fair companion took my hand in hers, and said, in a tone of exquisite sweetness," Are you in earnest, Mr. Gilbert? Am I to attribute to such an honourable sentiment, and such a desperate resolution, the conversation which has just passed between us ?”

"Indeed, indeed you may," said I. "Only let me have the permission to hope from your sweet lips, and my happiness is complete."

"My dear Mr. Gurney," said Mrs. Fletcher Green, with one of her sweetest looks, her bright eyes twinkling like stars-" my dear Mr. Gurney, what can I say?"

And at this particular juncture the door opened, and Miss Kitty Carter appeared, habited for her ride.

Oct.-VOL. XLII. NO. CLXVI.

M

I never wished a pretty girl at Old Nick till that moment.

"What!" said Miss Kate," you two here all this time! Upon my word, rather a lengthened tête-à-tête. I hope your conversation has been interesting."

I hated her still more.

"It has, my dear Catherine," said Mrs. Green.-I wondered whether she would tell her before my face what we had been talking about.— "And it has excited me very much; and, at all events, shown me the necessity of taking one step which I had hitherto omitted to take."

Then I anticipated her ordering me out of the house; but I was mistaken. I confess I thought that my fair Amelia appeared to be struggling hard to conceal a laugh, and that I considered rather as a display of want of feeling; yet she certainly was struggling. Perhaps I was wrong in my judgment. And while I was debating as to what I ought to do, having just worked up to the very dénouement of my affair, she turned to me, after having made a signal to her sister, no doubt perfectly understood by her,-every family has its private code,-and said, with as much composure as if nothing whatever had occurred, "I must leave you now; but remember you dine with us at seven.'

I bowed-blushed up to the eyes-she shook hands with me-the result was evident-I was accepted. Upon the strength of this encouragement I shook hands sociably with Kate, and bounded rather than walked down the stairs, and so forth into the street.

It is true I would have much rather that the fair rider had been quite as long habiting herself as her sister said she would be, so that I might have concluded my treaty, and signed and sealed it on the lips of my dearest Amelia. I had a strong notion at that time of signing and sealing-however, the last shake of the hand was enough. The not showing me up to her sister, too, was conclusive. She was not angry,-no, not she; it was, in fact, a settled thing. Never was man so happy, so elated. Wit, beauty, accomplishments, seven thousand a-year, and a delightful sister-in-law to break the toujours perdrixism of a matrimonial tête-à tête,-all this, and a fine place in the country, horses, hounds, battues, archeries, races, fêtes, soirées dansantes, and déjeunés dinatoires ;what a vision! Should not I be popular?-should not I be a star of the first magnitude with such a wife, so well known in the gay and learned world, without one bit of the Prussic acid of bluism about herself? Harps, honeysuckles, nectar, postilions, love, ecstasy, champagne, bowers, flowers, music, painting,-all-everything. Gold cornices,

ten-guinea boot-jacks, and every other necessary of life could be afforded with seven thousand pounds a-year; at least, so I thought then; having only, at that period of my existence, four hundred and thirty pounds per annum-just enough to find a moderately well-dressing man in shoestrings.

How the hours seemed to crawl from four until seven! Absorbed in a dream of delight, I lay on my sofa, and conjured up the events of the evening, Captain Lark dying of envy; Count Sko Sky, or whatever it was, in an agony of despair; and I handing my Amelia to table, sitting next her, whispering soft things, and looking still softer ones. "Remember seven!" said my Amelia, with a witchery more impressive than the "Remember twelve!" of the illustrious Siddons. I never was quite so near being mad as during those two hours; but, as the Italian proverb