saying how sorry she was she could not | more freely up there among the rocks personally help in founding that sewing- and furze than in small parlours or kitchclub, but offering to send a handsome ens where children had to be laboriously subscription. Wenna answered the letter taught. And yet the picture was not in a dutiful spirit, but firmly declined the cheerful. A grey and leaden sea-a offer. Then nothing was heard of the black line of cliffs standing sharp against Trelyons for a long time, except that now it until lost in the mist of the south-the and again a hamper of game would make green slopes over the cliffs touched here its appearance at Eglosilyan, addressed and there with the brown of withered to Miss Wenna Rosewarne in a sprawl-bracken - then down in the two valleys ing schoolboy's hand, which she easily the leafless trees, and gardens, and cotrecognized. Master Harry was certainly tages of Eglosilyan, the slates ordinarily acting on his own theory, that now she shining wet with the rain. One day was engaged he could give her presents, Wenna received a brief little letter from or otherwise be as familiar and friendly Mrs. Trelyon, who was at Mentone, and with her as he pleased. who said something of the balmy air, and the beautiful skies, and the blue water around her; and the girl, looking out on the hard and stern features of this sombre coast, wondered how such things could be. It was a dull, slow and dreary winter. Mr. Roscorla was deeply engaged with his Jamaica project, and was occasionally up in London for a fortnight at a time. He had got the money from young Trelyon, and soon hoped to set out as he told Wenna-to make his fortune. She put no obstacle in his way, nor yet did she encourage him to go; it was for him to decide, and she would abide by his decision. For the rest, he never revived that request of his that they should be married before he went. Somehow there was so much ordinary and commonplace work to do that Wenna almost forgot that she was engaged; and Mr. Roscorla, continually occupied with his new project, seldom cared to remind her that they were on the footing of sweethearts. Their relations were of an eminently friendly charEglosilyan in winter time is a very dif- acter, but little more in view of ferent place from the Eglosilyan of the the forthcoming separation he scarcely happy summer months. The wild coast thought it worth while to have them anyis sombre and gloomy. The uplands are thing more. Sometimes he was inclined windy, and bleak, and bare. There is no to apologize to her for the absence of shining plain of blue lying around the sentiment and romanticism which marked land, but a dark and cheerless sea, that their intimacy; but the more he saw of howls in the night-time as it beats on her the more he perceived that she did the mighty walls of black rock. It is not care for that sort of thing, and was, rather a relief, indeed to break the indeed, about as anxious to avoid it as mournful silence of those projecting he was himself. She kept their engagecliffs and untenanted bays—when the ment a secret. He once offered her his heavens are shaken with a storm, and arm in going home from church; she when the gigantic waves wash in to the made some excuse, and he did not resmall harbour so that the coasters seek-peat the offer. When he came in of an ing shelter there have to be scuttled and evening to have a chat with George temporarily sunk in order to save them. Rosewarne they talked about the subThen there are the fierce rains, to guard jects of the day as they had been accusagainst which the seaward-looking houses tomed to do long before this engagehave been faced with slate; and the garment; and Wenna sat and sewed in dens get dank and wet, and the ways are silence, or withdrew to a side-table to full of mire, and no one dares venture make up her account-books. Very rarely out on the slippery cliffs. It was a tedi- indeed thanks to Miss Mabyn, whose ous and a cheerless winter. hostilities had never ceased-had he a chance of seeing his betrothed alone, and then, somehow, their conversation invariably took a practical turn. It was not a romantic courtship. Then Mrs. Rosewarne was more or less of an invalid the most of the time, and Wenna was much occupied by household cares. Occasionally, when her duties indoors and in the cottages of her humble friends had been got over, she would climb up the hill on the other side of the mill-stream to have a look, around her. One seemed to breathe intelligence, sweetness, and a sufficient He considered her a very sensible girl. He was glad that his choice was approved by his reason. She was not beautiful; but she had qualities that would last fund of gentle humour to keep a man in good spirits. She was not quite in his own sphere of life; but then, he argued with himself, a man ought always to marry a woman who is below him rather than above him in social position, or in for wealth, or in brain, or in all three then she is all the more likely to respect and obey him, and to be grateful to him. Now, if you do not happen to have won he deep and fervent love of a woman— a thing that seldom occurs - gratitude is Mr. Roscorla a very good substitute. was quite content. 66 Wenna," said he, one day after they had got into the new year, and when one had begun to look forward to the first indications of spring in that southern county, "the whole affair is now afloat, and it is time I should be too - forgive the Everything has profound witticism. can do no been done out there; we more here; and my partners think I should sail about the fifteenth of next month." Was he asking her permission, or expecting some utterance of regret that he looked at her so? She cast down her eyes, and said, rather timidly. "I hope you will have a safe voyage and be successful." He was a little disappointed that she said nothing more; but he himself immediately proceeded to deal with the aspects of the case in a most business-like manner. "And then," said he, “I don't want to put you to the pain of taking a formal and solemn farewell as the ship sails. One always feels downhearted in watching a ship go away, even though there is no I must go to London in any case for a few days before sailing, and so I wouldn't mind coming thought that if you as far as Launceston - with your mother or sister - you could drive back here without any bother." reason. "If you do not think it unkind," said Wenna, in a low voice, "I should prefer that. For I could not take mamma further than Launceston, I think." "I shall never think anything you do unkind," said he. "I do not think you are capable of unkindness." He wished at this moment to add something about her engaged ring, but could not quite muster up courage. He paused for a minute, and became embarrassed, and then told her what a first-class cabin to Jamaica would cost. And at length the day came round. The weather had been bitterly cold and raw for the previous two or three weeks; though it was March the world seemed still frozen in the grasp of winter. Early on this bleak and grey forenoon Mr. Roscorla walked down to the inn, and found the waggonette at the door. His luggage had been sent on to Southampton some days before; he was ready to start at once. Wenna was a little pale and nervous when she came out and got into the waggonette; but she busied herself in wrapping abundant rugs and shawls round her mother, who protested against being buried alive. -66 Good-bye," said her father, shaking hands with Mr. Roscorla carelessly, "I hope you'll have a fine passage. Wenna, don't forget to ask for those cartridgecases as you drive back from the station." But Miss Mabyn's method of bidding him farewell was far more singular. With an affectation of playfulness she offered him both her hands, and so, making quite sure that she had a grip on the left hand of that emerald ring that had afforded her much consolation, she said "Good-bye. I hope you will get safely out to Jamaica." "And back again?" said he, with a laugh. Mabyn said nothing, turned away, and pretended to be examining the outlines of the waggonette. Nor did she speak again to any one until the small party drove away; and then, when they had got over the bridge and along the valley, and up and over the hill, she suddenly ran to her father, flung her arms round his neck, kissed him, and cried out "Hurrah! the horrid creature is gone, never!" and he'll never come back · Mabyn," said her father, in a peevish ill-temper, as he stooped to pick up the broken pipe which she had caused him to let fall, "I wish you wouldn't be such a 66 fool." - not to be crushed. But Mabyn was She said, "Poor daddy, has it broken its pipe ?" and then she walked off, with her head very erect, and a very happy light on her face, while she sang to herself, after the manner of an acquaintance of hers, "Oh, the men of merry, merry England!" There was less cheerfulness in that a black speck waggonette that was making its way across the bleak uplandsin the grey and wintry landscape. Wenna was really sorry that this long voyage, and all its cares and anxieties, should lie before one who had been so kind to her; it made her miserable to think of his going away into strange lands all by himself, with little of the buoyancy, and restlessness, and ambition of youth to bear him up. As for him, he was chiefly occupied during this silent drive across to Launceston in nursing the fancy that he was going out to fight the world for her sake as a younger man might have done -and that, if he returned successful, her gratitude would be added to the substantial results of his trip. It rather pleased him to imagine himself in this position. After all he was not so very elderly; and he was in very good preservation for his years. He was more than a match in physique, in hopefulness, and in a knowledge of the world that ought to stand him in good stead, for many a younger man who, with far less chances of success, was bent on making a fortune for the sake of some particular girl. He was not displeased to see that she was sorry about his going away. She would soon get over that. He had no wish that she should continually mope in his absence; nor did he, indeed, believe that any sensible girl would do anything of the sort. At the same time he had no fear whatever as to her remaining constant to him. A girl altogether out of the way of meeting marriageable young men would be under no temptation to let her fancies rove. Moreover, Wenna Rosewarne had something to gain in social position, by her marriage with him, which she could not be so blind as to ignore; and had she not, too, the inducement of waiting to see whether he might not bring back a fortune to her? But the real cause of his trust in her was that experience of her uncompromising sincerity and keen sense of honour that he had acquired during a long and sufficiently intimate friendship. If the thought of her breaking her promise ever occurred to him it was not as a serious possibility, but as an idle fancy, to be idly dismissed. "You are very silent," he said to her. "I am sorry you are going away," she said, simply and honestly; and the admission pleased and flattered him. "You don't give me courage," he said. "You ought to consider that I am going out into the world -even at my time of life to get a lot of money and come back to make a grand lady of you." "Oh!" said she in sudden alarm for such a thought had never entered her head "I hope you are not going away on my account You know that I wish for nothing of that kind. I hope you did not consider me in resolving to go to Jamaica!" "Well, of course, I considered you," said he, good-naturedly; "but don't alarm yourself; I should have gone if I had never seen you. But naturally I have an additional motive in going when I look at the future." That was not a pleasant thought for Wenna Rosewarne. It was not likely to comfort her on stormy nights, when she might lie awake and think of a certain ship at sea. She had acquiesced in his going, as in one of those things which men do because they are men and seem bound to satisfy their ambition with results which women might consider unnecessary. But that she should have exercised any influence on his decision that alarmed her with a new sense of responsibility, and she began to wish that he could suddenly drop this project, have the waggonette turned round, and drive back to the quiet content and small economies and peaceful work of Eglosilyan. They arrived in good time at Launceston, and went for a stroll up to the magnificent old castle while luncheon was being got ready at the hotel. Wenna did not seem to regard that as a very enticing meal when they sat down to it. The talk was kept up chiefly by her mother and Mr. Roscorla, who spoke of life on shipboard, and the best means of filling the tedium of it. Mr. Roscorla said he would keep a journal all the time he was away, and send instalments from time to time to Wenna. They walked from the hotel down to the station. Just outside the station they saw a landau, drawn by a pair of beautiful greys, which were being walked up and down. "Surely those are Mrs. Trelyon's horses," Wenna said; and, as the carriage, which was empty, came nearer, the coachman touched his hat. "Perhaps she is coming back to the Hall to-day." The words were uttered carelessly, for she was thinking of other things. When they at last stood on the platform and Mr. Roscorla had chosen his seat, he could see that she was paler than ever. He spoke in a light and cheerful way, mostly to her mother, until the guard requested him to get into the carriage, and then he turned to the girl and took her hand. "Good-bye, my dear Wenna," said he. "God bless you! I hope you will write to me often." Then he kissed her cheek, shook hands with her again, and got into the carriage. She had not spoken a word. Her lips were trembling-she could not speak and he saw it. interested and pleased. She, too, thought he was much improved — how she could not exactly tell. "Come," said he, at last, "you must not be very downhearted about a mere holiday trip. You will soon get letters, you know, telling you all about the strange places abroad; and then, before you know where you are, you'll have to drive over to the station, as you did to-day, to meet Mr. Roscorla coming back." When the train went slowly out of the station, Wenna stood and looked after it with something of a mist before her eyes, until she could see nothing of the hand- "It may be a very long time indeed," kerchief that was being waved from one Wenna said; "and if he should come to of the carriage windows. She stood any harm I shall know that I was the quite still, until her mother put her hand cause of it; for if it had not been for me, on her shoulder, and then she turned and I don't believe he would have gone." walked away with her. They had not "Oh, that's all gammon ! - begging gone three yards, when they were met by your pardon," said Master Harry, coolly. a tall young man who had come rushing" Roscorla got a chance of making some down the hill and through the small station-house. "By Jove!" said he, "I am just too late. How do you do, Mrs. Rosewarne? How are you, Wenna?"-and then he paused, and a great blush overspread his face for the girl looked up at him and took his hand silently, and he could see there were tears in her eyes. It occurred to him that he had no business there and yet he had come on an errand of kindness. So he said, with some little embarrassment, to Mrs. Rose warne "I heard you were coming over to this train, and I was afraid you would find the drive back in the waggonette rather cold this evening. I have got our landau outside closed, you know and I thought you might let me drive you over." Mrs. Rosewarne looked at her daughter. Wenna decided all such things, and the girl said to him, in a low voice "It is very kind of you." "Then just give me a second, that I may tell your man," Trelyon said, and off he darted. Was it respect for Wenna's trouble, or had it been his knocking about among strangers for six months, that seemed to have given to the young man (at least in Mrs. Rosewarne's eyes) something of a more courteous and considerate manner? When the three of them were being rapidly whirled along the Launceston highway in Mrs. Trelyon's carriage, Harry Trelyon was evidently bent on diverting Wenna's thoughts from her present cares; and he told stories, and asked questions, and related his recent adventures in such a fashion that the girl's face gradually lightened, and she grew money, and he took it, as any other man would. You had no more to do with it than I had — indeed, I had something to do with it- but that's a secret. No; don't you make any mistake about that. And he'll be precious well off when he's out there, and seeing everything going smoothly, especially when he gets a letter from you, with a Cornish primrose or violet in it. And you'll get that soon now," he added, quickly seeing that Wenna blushed somewhat, "for I fancy there's a sort of smeil in the air this afternoon that means spring-time. I think the wind has been getting round to the west all day; before night you will find a difference in the air, I can tell you." "I think it has become very fresh and mild already," Wenna said, judging by an occasional breath of wind that came in at the top of the windows. "Do you think you could bear the landau open ?" said he, eagerly. When they stopped to try when they opened the windows the predictions of the weather-prophet had already been fulfilled, and a strange, genial mildness and freshness pervaded the air. They were now near Eglosilyan, on the brow of a hill, and away below them they could see the sea lying dull and grey under the cloudy sky. But while they waited for the coachman to uncover the landau, a soft and yellow light began to show itself far out in the west, a break appeared in the clouds, and a vast comb of gold shot shining down on the plain of water beneath. The western skies were opening up; and what with this new and beautiful light, and what with the sweet air that awoke a thousand pleasant and pathetic memories, it seemed to Wenna Rosewarne that the tender spring-time was at length at hand, with all its wonder of Mr. Greville speaks of his father as a yellow crocuses and pale snowdrops, and good-natured, irritable, uneducated man, the first faint shimmerings of green on who "had some faults, with many foi the hedges and woods. Her eyes filled with tears she knew not why. Surely she was not old enough to know anything of the sadness that comes to some when the heavens are cleared, and a new life stirs in the trees, and the world awakes to the fairness of the spring. She was only eighteen; she had a lover; and she was as certain of his faithfulness as of her own. In bidding them good-bye at the door of the inn, Mr. Trelyon told them that he meant to remain in Eglosilyan for some months to come. From The Athenæum. THE GREVILLE MEMOIRS.* THE third Duke of Portland was the father of four sons and two daughters, most of whom did very well indeed in life. One of his sons, William Charles, married the mysterious beauty, Georgiana Frederica Augusta Seymour, the daughter of Grace Elliot and George, Prince Regent. One of the duke's daughters, Charlotte, married, in 1793, Mr. Charles Greville, grandson of the fifth Baron Warwick. Of this marriage came three sons and a daughter. The daughter married Francis LevesonGower, Earl of Ellesmere. The sons were variously provided for. The eldest, who kept the Journal just published, and who was born in 1794, belonged to the "good old times." Early in life, the Duke of Portland's influence obtained for him a well paid sinecure office, the secretaryship of Jamaica; and before he was twenty, Mr. Charles Greville left Christ Church, Oxford, to become private secretary to Earl Bathurst. But the young gentleman was still more comfortably provided for, as the ducal grandsire also obtained for him the reversion of the clerkship of the council. Mr. Greville entered upon its duties in 1821, and he continued to perform them about forty years. Mr. Greville's brother Algernon was secretary to the Duke of Wellington and "Bath king of arms." Henry became gentleman usher to the queen. The Greville Memoirs: a Journal of the Reigns of King George the Fourth and King William the Fourth. By the late Charles C. F. Greville, Esq. Edited by Heary Reeve. 3 vols. (Longmans & Co.) bles." Of his grandfather, Fulke Greville, he says, "He was useless, and worse than useless, as a parent, and his mother (a woman of extraordinary capacity and merit) died while he was a young man, having been previously sep arated from her husband, and having retired from the world." This lady was the Fanny Macartney (daughter of the general) of whom Walpole speaks as one of the beauties of her and his time. She was the author of the very clever ode, or prayer," To Indifference." Walpole said of her, in 1789, "Mrs. Greville is dead who, I believe, had little to leave; I do not know whether even any poetry." The literary power often displayed by Mr. Charles Greville in his Journal may have come to him from his accomplished grandmother. The first date in this diary is of the year 1818. The last is of the year 1837. In round numbers, the journal of twenty years twice the number of years in Pepys's diary. Mr. Gre ville's later entries are properly reserved for another generation. We are not sure that some of the present generation will not wince a little at what is recorded of themselves, though they may take calmly what is said of their relations. Mr. Greville was a thorough English gentleman. He moved, as it is called, in the highest society, but he loved that which is more suitably called the best. He preferred intellect to rank, and could not endure a bore. He was something of a sportsman, by no means disliked whist, had an inclination for dainty fare, and cursed "The Beef-Steak Club" for giving him an indigestible dinner. He was refined by nature; he had a well-stored mind, could fetch from that mental store at will whatever the occasion required, and was a welcome guest under every roof. He was a bachelor, but he speaks often of the pleasures to be derived from the society of women. He was by his office outside and apart from all politics, yet his remarks on political events show that he might have distinguished himself in that disturbed arena. His "portraits" or "characters" of some of the individuals with whom he came in contact are admirable. Occasionally, a mere stroke of the pen presents a feature; an epigrammatic turn is often a revelation, and a line of reflection at the end of a story is frequently fuller of wisdom and more strik |