The contrarieties and contradictions which exist in the best regulated minds of the best bred and best educated women, are very extraordinary. The declaration of her feelings towards Miles Blackmore, which Jane had made the day before to her friend and hostess, was plain, true, and sincere. We know that whatever had been the reason of her unwillingness to be left alone with him, or indeed to encourage his particular attention or conversation, it was as strong as ever it had been when she came down to breakfast; and yet she was surpriseday, and disappointed too, to find him late in making his appearance at table, and, when he did arrive, to see him seated far from her, and engaged at the side of Amersham in the piscatory conversation which we have just noticed.

It certainly seemed strange, but it is not more strange than true, that Miles Blackmore seemed-and if he were acting, he did it remarkably well to be entirely occupied with the subject proposed to him, and did, what no man in love, unless strategically, would or could do; namely, talk of what his proceedings would be about the trout the next day, if he did not succeed in haling him out after breakfast-the one event involving the period of Jane's departure, and the other pointing to a time when she would be gone.

Amersham took great praise to himself for the way in which he was "playing" his friend; but Mrs. Amersham felt convinced that she had been all along right with regard to Jane's partiality, from watching the result of his success in engrossing to himself all Blackmore's

conversation.

The breakfast-party broke up; and while the members of it were standing in groups, listlessly waiting for some" start," and Mrs. Amersham and Jane were agreeing to have an hour's cause to themselves before luncheon, Amersham and Blackmore came up to her, both evidently prepared for a speech-Jane was agitated, she scarcely knew why.

"My dear Jane," said Amersham," you are, I suppose, resolved to leave us to-day?"

"Oh! fixed as fate," said Jane.

"I feel that I ought not to murmur at your decision," said Amersham, "since it is founded upon your own good judgment; but as it must be so, I hate leavetaking even for a few days, to which our loss of you will, I hope, be limited-and so Blackmore (who sympathizes with me) and I, have agreed to make our parting, conditional-that is to say, we are going down to the river to look after a trout, which is honouring us with a visit, and if we can be back by luncheon-time we will ; if not, we will shake hands and say good bye, now.”

There was something so odd, so hurried, and so abrupt in Amersham's manner, that Jane was quite startled by it. This he saw and added,

"Because by this condition we have to look forward to saying good bye again, and if not-"

-"I see," said Jane, recovering herself, "I understand what you mean-it is not a positive leavetaking-I accept the offer; and so good bye."

"Good bye, Miss Bruff," said Miles Blackmore, extending his hand, which she unaffectedly took, "I dare say we shall be back before you go."

"I think not," said Jane, colouring with something like anger at the

quiet arrangement of the affair; "for I believe neither you nor Mr. Amersham ever eat luncheon."

"Oh!" said Emma, construing Jane's animation into a "proof as strong as holy writ" of the justice of all her suspicions, "they will be back, my dear girl-if Mr. Blackmore is not gallant enough to be in time to make his adieux, I am sure my husband is."

Amersham looked rather cross-Blackmore rather foolish; however, the mutual hand-shaking was repeated, and the sportsmen took their leave.

It would probably be unfair, even if it were 'possible, to detail the dialogue which took place between Mrs. Amersham and Miss Bruff, in the boudoir of the former. The tone of the "matron," however, was much less austere than that of the maiden; for although she advocated obedience to the colonel in all reasonable measures, she with equal force and energy deprecated a complete subjection to his will, provided his commands involved any thing like the endurance of Mrs. Smylar's continuance in the same house with his daughter, in the capacity of mother-in-law; and it was to this point the thoughts of both ladies were directed, Jane herself being conscious that no human being of their not very extensive acquaintance could have been selected by her father as a suitable match for her, and most assuredly never suspecting that she was to be disposed of, in the way of bargain and barter, to a man whom she had never seen, and whose name she had never heard ; or, indeed, thinking that a man could be found, in the sphere of gentlemen, who would be induced to accept such a condition himself.

Soon, too soon, indeed, as we know, were all these doubts destined to be dispelled, and poor Jane doomed to the infliction of a hateful lover, a calamity which she so specially and sensitively dreaded.

Time flew luncheon came, and was not eaten-neither Amersham nor Blackmore made his appearance-the clock struck twopunctual to the moment the colonel's carriage, drawn by a pair of veteran horses, of which he was so chary and careful that Mrs. Amersham had nicknamed them Sugar and Spice, was drawn to the door. Miss Harris was already in the rumble, which had been especially fixed to the rear of the vehicle, for the joint accommodation of herself and a man-servant, an association which in all probability might lead to a premature development of the colonel's proposed proceedings, that is to say, if Mrs. Smylar had condescended to impart the secret to the colonel's own man, who it was supposed was in her confidence, and fully aware of her influence over his master.

If the reader thinks with Mrs. Amersham and Mr. Blackmore, he will, perhaps, not be displeased at being spared a description of the sweet yet sorrowful separation of our heroine-if so she must be-from her affectionate friends. A few minutes over, and the family coach was moving at a reasonable old-fashioned pace through the grounds-park it could not be called-and in less than half an hour Jane found herself on the high-road to London, her heart beating and her head aching..

Just as the carriage was ascending a small hill, which commanded a view of the meads through which the pretty rippling river Yarrell runs, she caught sight of Amersham and Blackmore, attended by a keeper and a boy or two, all intent on the sport. She fixed her eyes upon them, as the last objects of interest which were likely to present themselves to her

on her road homewards. One of the boys had turned and seen the carriage; he mentioned the fact, and Amersham and his friend instantly saluted the departing fair one. Amersham waved his hat gaily in the air, as if cheering and encouraging her. Blackmore bowed more quietly, and then stood immovable by the side of his friend, till a turn in the road put an end to the scene.

Jane threw herself back in the carriage and wept-poor thing!

Meanwhile Colonel Bruff and Sir George were by no means inactive in arranging matters connected with their notable project, and, indeed, the further disclosures they mutually made, the more they appeared pleased with the prospect before them.

One person of the party, to do him justice, seemed rather to quail at the awful responsibility, as he before called it, in which the perfection of the arrangement must necessarily involve him-that person was the hero of the drama. But his father, who was even more perilously placed by his favourite son's indiscretions and embarrassments than the son himself, repeated all the arguments he had previously advanced, in order to convince him how essential, not only to his respectability and position, but, in fact, to his existence, the matrimonial measure was, although George could not, as he said, make up his mind at a moment's notice, nor, indeed, finally pledge himself to the completion of the scheme until he had seen the lady, adding, with a kind of confident anticipation to "the governor," "Nor, perhaps till she has seen me would she be more willing."

"You are mighty particular," said "the governor," "as far as you yourself are concerned, and extremely punctilious as regards the girl; but just listen to reason. Our position is desperate-Bruff is a blockhead. Manage him, and he—and he is positive upon the point-will manage his daughter. See her, of course you will. See you, will she; for, having sent for her up from the country, we are invited to dine with him on Monday."

"Monday?" said George, "rather short notice. To be sure the season is wearing out, but the idea of an eight-and-forty hours' invitation, governor, except for a fight, seems short. I hope somebody else

will be there-eh ?"

"I foresaw your dislike to the tête-d-tête system," said Sir George, "and in order to break through the formality, and to set you off well, I got him to invite your brother Frank."

"My half-brother, governor, if you please," said George. "Well, that is something, but will he go?"

"He has promised," said Sir George.

"And will fulfil his promise," said the son, "unless Mrs. Blueskin, or Professor Tarradiddle, or the marvellous Dr. Bobblewobble, happens to invite him to some delightful party at which wonders are to be exhibited, tigers to be shown, or mummies unrolled, and then there will be no getting him, and I should like to have somebody on my staff just to break the ice, and keep the thing going-eh, governor ?"

"I am sure he will go," said Sir George. "Upon his principle of what he calls morality, and from a feeling of fraternal affection he would wish to go-just to see how you were about to dispose of your frail tenement, as he calls it; and mark me, George, if he does go, the chances are that he will say grace before dinner."

"I should like, governor, to tell you something," said George,

"something connected with this business, which hangs a little on my mind."

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By Jove, George," said the juvenile parent, "I really don't know what you need hesitate to tell me. We live, I think, like friends. You have your indiscretions-I have mine. I assure you I am exceedingly merciful, and if you don't—”

"Trust me, governor," interrupted George. "I know what you mean. Be quite at your ease on that subject-every man his own range. No, no, that's not it, but I have-a particular feeling towards a particular person."

"No news to me, George," said the worthy baronet: "the bowwindow at White's, commands enough of town, to show up young gentlemen even more cautious than you are; besides, that affair has been a secret with me these two years.'

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Well, governor, that's the bore;" said George, "one cannot get of that sort of attraction at a moment's notice."

rid

"Can't one?" said Sir George, raising his eyebrows to a gothic elevation, and taking a huge pinch of snuff. "Oh!"

"I must do something in the way of settlement," said George, “annuity, eh?"

"That will all come as a matter of course," said Sir George, "when you have got it."

"True," said George, "ex nihilo nihil fit, that's it."

"If she is a reasonable person she'll wait the event," said Sir George, "if she is not—"

-"Ah!" said George; "but she is-she is reasonable, and what is so remarkably uncomfortable, is exceedingly attached to me.' "Any results, George?" said the baronet.

"Why, governor," said George, "I suppose this is the time to be candid there is one, a little thing with flaxen hair, which she calls a pledge a boy."

Well," said Sir George, "all that must be taken care of-only nothing of the sort can be done, till you have actually the means of doing it."

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"No," said George, "but it seems odd-sounds odd even to the girl herself, that I should be indebted to the fortune of my new wife, for the means of settling her."

"Those things are as common as daylight," said Sir George, "if there's any doubt upon her mind as to the stability of the means, send her to me.'

"I'd rather not, governor," said George.

"Well, well, pacify her," said Sir George, "pacify her any how." "Ah!" replied the son, "that's easy to say, and much easier to say than to do; there never was a sweeter-dispositioned creature in the world when things go well, and she is pleased; but by Jove, governor, when she's up as they say it takes more than you think for, to get her down again."

"I have almost always through life," said Sir George, "found women disinterested and considerate; she must be aware-in fact, I presume she is that some strong measure is absolutely necessary to prop your falling fortunes, and rescue you from more uncomfortable embarrassments: rely upon it, her care for you will induce her to accede to the change of circumstances-you are not her constant companion now—

other engagements keep you frequently from her, and if you marrywhy-"

"I understand perfectly," interrupted the son and heir, "we shall not be eternally separated-we may chance to see each other occasionally-Upon my word, governor, you were born to be a Mentor to such a Telemachus as I am-there are, difficulties nevertheless-great difficulties but they must be overcome--upon my life it is a horrid bore to have a woman so attached to one as my Calypso is to me."

"Is Frank aware of this connexion of yours?" asked the worthy baronet. "Why," replied George, "he is, and he is not he has, amongst other strange propensities, a fancy for looking at giraffes, and feeding bears in the Zoological Gardens, early in the summer-mornings, and that period of the day suiting me exceedingly well for giving my young woman a trot out, I have more than once met him while occupied in his favourite pursuit. He has asked me two or three questions which I have answered so as to avoid a lecture from a junior, and which, considering that junior to be one's own younger brother, is rather more than flesh and blood can stand."

"True," said Sir George, "but now going a little farther into the question of Frank's likings and dislikings; have you any reason to believe or suspect that he has formed any attachment-any liaison ?"

"Unquestionably not," said George," his friends are saints and sages, and the women he worships are 'valuable remains,' curiosities qualified to take the places of the wax-work in Westminster Abbey, at which I remember screaming myself into a fit in my nurse's arms, when I was a baby."

"He will marry," said Sir George, "and settle, and be respectable, and nothing more; satisfied with a cold mediocrity, he will slumber away his peaceful life, till in a state of almost lethargic inanition, he drops asleep altogether. I never saw a young man so provokingly apathetic in his manner, or so steadily dictatorial in his monitory and even minatory language, and yet his uncle thinks him a wonder."

"And I wonder," said George, "what his uncle thinks of me?" "Why that you are a reprobate and a roué," said Sir George," and have not a soul to be saved-however, the genius is hereditary-the talent for dulness and gloom descends to Frank from his poor mother, who shared it with her exemplary brother-no matter, it is quite right that tastes should differ, and the benefit is especially great in the case of Frank, who, through that uncle's avowed liberality, will not cramp you in your proceedings hereafter."

How much farther this dialogue might have continued it is impossible to surmise, had not visiters to Sir George broken it off like

"The story of the bear and fiddle,"

and sent George away to his Calypso's grot, upon one of those "country banks" in the Regent's-park (which never fail), full of anxiety to sooth its fair tenant. Her story was an interesting one-their association extraordinary. It may be hereafter necessary to recur to it more particularly; at present, as it is the duty of a historian to give all the personages involved in his narrative, the benefit of his knowledge of their different characters, suffice it to say, that as George had been the cause of her misfortune-fault must be the word-so was he the sole object of her undivided affection.

(To be continued.)