if she had trampled with the whole weight of her heel upon the Squire's cloth shoe, she could scarcely have offended in a quarter more painfully sensitive. To sum up the whole of her demerits, she was a Blue-stocking—and a Whig,—and nobody could tell who was her grandfather; and she was a blowsy-faced little woman—and she eat lustily of half-a-dozen different dishes-and her hair was reddish-and her hands and ears were big—and the Squire had never liked her. Perhaps Methodism was the only thing he thoroughly despised that could not be laid to her charge; and perhaps, considering the style of his opinions as to the relative duties of the female sex, Sir Charles Catline's wife was rather more disagreeable to him for presuming to keep free of that particular blemish, than she could have been for wearing it between her eyes. The Vicar, who supported this lady on the other side, appeared to be not much more taken with her than his kinsman.

Throughout the whole of the evening, Reginald could not help making observation, that his father and Sir Charles Catline never, by any ac

cident, exchanged words; but when the gentlemen rejoined the ladies in the drawing-room, which was a very long and spacious apartment, three distinct parties were formed, and these seemed to have about as little to do with each other, as if they had been ten miles asunder. The Squire sat in his arm-chair by the fire-side, with Reginald, the Vicar, and Mrs Betty, close to him. The Baronet, Miss Dalton, Barbara Catline, and the Curate, kept possession of the table on which tea had been served; while Frederick Chisney found his amusement between Lady Catline and her second daughter Julia, quizzing the one, flirting a little with the other, and now and then suffering himself to be beat at trou-madame. The last was certainly the gayest set of the three; perhaps the only one amongst all the members of which the announcement of Sir Charles's carriage was an unwelcome

occurrence.

The moment they were gone, the Squire ordered supper; and, when he found that the two young men must really set off on their journey southward in the morning, and the Vicar also for Westmoreland, a huge jorum of mulled port was called

in to alleviate the affliction of the parting. But even after a second edition of the tankard, the kind old gentleman could not go to his bed until he had made them all promise to come and take farewell of him ere they started.

CHAPTER XII.

As the Vicar and Reginald were walking down the long gallery towards their bed-chambers, and talking together as they went, Mrs Elizabeth, who had retired from the party below stairs some considerable time earlier, made her appearance in her night-cap and a wide dimity dressing gown, at the door of an apartment, in which a brilliant fire was blazing. The Vicar was halting his pace, for he was naturally unwilling to contaminate, even by a passing glance, the vestal penetralia of the old spinster; but she stood firm to her post, and beckoning them onwards with her finger, said, with a slight mixture of mystery, and of roguery too, in the tone of her whisper," Your black cloth will take no spot, cousin John, although you should venture yourself for a moment-Come-come hither-I

have something I would fain speak to you about, -but don't keep Reginald from his bed.-Good night, my dear Reginald."

The Vicar, with a smile and a blush, followed his venerable Armida into her bower; and the door was instantly closed upon our youth, who, it must be confessed, was not without some feeling of curiosity as to the scope and tendency of this furtive interview. He was fain, however, to creep into his bed, since there was nothing better in his power.

There were two most comfortable easy-chairs in Miss Betty's dressing-room, and as soon as she and her reverend visitor were established in these, at the opposite sides of the fire, the old lady coughed once or twice, and then spoke as follows, though not without something both of hesitation and confusion in her manner :

"I am going to take a great freedom, Mr Dalton-but I hope you will just consider me as a sort of old aunt, and let me have my own way."

The Vicar bowed respectfully, and met the old lady's kind look with an eye from which gratitude all but ran over.