smile of wonder at the enthusiasm and confidence of success displayed by so young and diminutive a creature, with evident admiration of her singular beauty and animation. "Where is my little jewel-casket? that in the Indian case?" quickly demanded the little beauty in that tone of oriental command all have acquired who have lived in the land of the Ganges and the Ind. There it lies before you!" continued she; "be pleased to take it from its covering ;-now, where are my keys? O here, in my reticule.—Dear girls, show me to your father!

I own I had been so struck with the whole of the foregoing scene, that I thought not of Sir William's prohibition. This Isabel Deane seemed to carry all before her; I mechanically followed in the train, as Miss Ogilvie led the way to the drawing-room.

Isabel Deane no sooner beheld the invalid gentleman, seated in his elbow chair, than she darted forward with an agility I had never seen equalled, with her little ivory casket, beautifully cut and ornamented, in her hand. Although she had never cast her eyes upon him before, it was enough for her to know that he was the father of her friends; to her the name of father gave the idea of all that was most sacred and endearing; she had not long lost her own! Then, had he not invited her, an unknown orphan, to his dwelling?-sent for her so many miles, and in a manner so gratifying to her female delicacy, her Eastern pride?-sent his own carriage, with an upper woman-servant for her escort? Then was he not ill? in pain? her generous patron? And did she not fondly believe that she possessed the power, the secret, the amulet, the charm, to do him good; to give him almost instantaneous relief? It was under the influence of all these mingled feelings, since analysed by myself through a deeper knowledge of her character than I possessed at that time, that this Eastern girl, with the glowing enthusiasm, nay, devotion, that at that moment embued her whole being, placed her ivory casket, containing her amulet, at his feet, and whilst exclaiming, "Dear, dear Sir William! thank God, I have the power to cure you," she threw her childish arms around the neck of the astonished magistrate, and imprinted on his forehead a kiss, pure, infantine, yet impassioned,-a kiss that was at the same time the holiest and the most captivating pressure that, for many years at least, had saluted the brow of Sir William Ogilvie. It is impossible to describe the effect produced on us all by this act of unaffected simplicity; to have laughed at it would have been a profanation-it was a sacred thing! and yet the amazement depictured on the countenance of the invalid! and the evident dread of his daughters and son-in-law, that there would be an out-break of anger from their father for the girl's presumption; all this was approaching to the ludicrous: for my own part, I was interested beyond expression, and watched anxiously for the termination of this

scene.

66

"Cure me! my sweet girl!" said the Baronet, why, you have made me well already! And so you are the much-talked-of Isabel Deane ? You are welcome, most welcome to The Plantations,'welcome as a daughter." Never had I heard him speak in such a tone. In another moment, the key had been applied to the lock of the ivory box, and Isabel Deane took from it a polished piece of blood-stone, a perfect sphere; and calling in an authoritative tone, yet with a most

"It

Sir

musical voice, for a glass of spring water, which, as it happened to be in the room, I presented to her, she dropped the stone into it, and covered it over with a china plate that she found upon the table. must remain there an hour," said the Eastern girl to Sir William, with a little nod," before you drink it; be pleased to note the time,' William mechanically obeyed her. You must not dine immediately after you have taken this infusion," added she, laying her finger impressively on Sir William's sleeve; "I think the Brahmin told me, at least a couple of hours must elapse before you eat, that you may not interrupt the spell."

A spell, is it ?" demanded the now smiling patient. Why, thou art one thyself. Tell us from whence this magic stone was taken ?"

It was dug out from the palace of Agra," responded the fair physician, gravely, where it had lain for centuries, with several tons' weight. more of this precious composition, hid there to preserve it from being carried off. You smile, Sir William, at hearing me call it a composition, since you imagine the blood-stone to be a production of nature. The Brahmins only know how it was composed-whose drops or gouts of blood are scattered throughout this blessed substance; but you shall find its efficacy."

In

"Whose little angel is that?" enquired the strange capricious visitant, now first observing little Fanny ensconced in her corner. the twinkling of an eye, Isabel Deane was by her side, seated in the manner of the East, and playing with the doll, and with the child, as if she were only herself six years old.

"Come with us, Isabel, and change your dress before dinner," said Miss Ogilvie; "I want to tell you a hundred things," said Miss Caroline. "Hush!" retorted the wilful little beauty, "I cannot leave the room until the hour is passed; do not disturb your father: even now the charm begins to operate upon him only by its proximity. The severity of his pain is passed. Give me the watch; I'll calculate the time myself" and she placed Sir William's repeater in her bosom, and went on dressing the waxen baby, and twisting up its silken scarf into an Eastern turban, and plucking some feathers from her own bonnet which she threw down carelessly by her side, discovering the most beautiful and redundant tresses of the purest black I had ever seen. Sir William seemed much amused by the tricks of Isabel Deane, and I saw watched every movement with pleased attention.

I perceived, also, that Mr. Talbot shared the interest I felt in this uncommon scene; although he had a book in his hand, and appeared to be reading, his eyes were constantly lifted off to observe what was next to be enacted.

At the expiration of an hour, Isabel Deane rose with much solemnity, and gazed stedfastly at the glass containing the water and the stone; then lifted up her eyes to heaven, with a smile that looked seraphic, "It will do," said she, and she took out the blood-stone, wiped it carefully, and replaced it in her casket, taking care to lock the box, take out the key, and replace it in her reticule. Then, lifting up the glass, she approached with a devotional look the baronet, presenting it to him on her knees, saying something to this effect :

"May the Father of us all bless these means I use to banish thy disease, my foster-father."

I saw Sir William hesitated: he looked at his son-in-law, then at me; he saw no warning in our eyes to bid him "Forbear:" he cast his eyes on the graceful, almost inspired form before him; so flexible, so elegantly moulded, so full of life, so redolent with faith. "I may as well indulge her strange whim of believing she can cure me; 'tis but a glass of water after all!" he murmured thus to himself, and drained the goblet.

our father

"Now let us leave him, dear ones,” cried Isabel Deane ; will join us at the dinner-table, which must be at six. We cann dine before six; you must not dress for dinner, dear papa!”

He smiled, and said, "Order the dinner at that hour, Matty; perhaps I shall be able to hobble in and join you. My sweet physician! have you no other prescription?—give me one like your first!"

This was said in a tone of gallantry and of cheerfulness that quite surprised us all, not more so indeed, than on seeing this extraordinary Indian girl bending over her patient, as an angel would over a dying saint, and giving him the boon he asked for.

I have said that Sir William Ogilvie had only a slight fit of the gout, but that he made the most of it. It is not for me to go into a history of cause and effect; to speculate on the supposed hidden and occult qualities of the blood-stone of Agra; of which a specimen is now in this house, brought from thence by a brave British officer, who saw it dug out from the palace there, about three miles distant from the celebrated Tarjee, where an enormous mass of this stone was buried by some former king of Agra, to preserve it from being carried off piecemeal on account of its supposed talismanic virtues; and he thought to ensure happiness and welfare to his descendants as long as it remained within the foundations of the royal residence.

Sir William Ogilvy did his best now to throw off all the wrappings and appendages of the gout, more in honour to his young guest, it is presumed, than from the healing virtues of the infusion she had given him; perhaps from a certain exhilaration of spirits produced by an incipient passion for the young Indian: but I must not anticipate my story.

The day after the entrance of Isabel Deane into the family of Sir William Ogilvie, Mrs. Talbot and myself, for weighty reasons, secluded ourselves for a time in a very pleasant apartment overlooking the Southampton water and its green banks, covered with those lovely organised beings, trees and shrubs, the mute inhabitants of this world, whether the sensitive ones or not we do not know. There is a strong analogy between them, it must be allowed, and the animal kingdom; yet so gradual is the change from it to the vegetable one, that who shall say shall dare to pronounce, that the oyster feels pain at the entrance of a knife into its body, and the sensitive-plant, or Venus's fly-trap, does not when torn to pieces? Poetry loves to imagine that there is a kindred spirit throughout all nature. Let her enjoy her wild yet beautiful imaginings-let her people the woods and streams with sentient beings-but enough of this.

I am a very keen observer; I believe I have said this a hundred times before, because I am proud, I suppose, of this faculty, which makes me thus parade it to the world: we talk not of what we wish concealed.

Sir William Ogilvie had always affected to dress a good deal in the

old style, like a country gentleman of half a century back: surprised was I therefore to observe him, the first day I ventured to open the windows in Mrs. Talbot's apartment, walking on the lawn with Isabel Deane and his younger daughters, dressed in a modern suit of very handsome black, with a rich black taffety scarf, tied very carefully round his neck, instead of the cambric stock and gold buckle he had been in the habit of wearing; he had also assumed a white cambric handkerchief for his pocket, and (notwithstanding the gout) I perceived had mounted a pair of black silk stockings and thin shoes. At first I did not recognise him, so great a change had dress made in his appearance and I actually asked Mrs. Talbot, "If she expected any stranger at The Plantations,' as there was a very fine-looking man walking on the lawn, seemingly quite at home, with the young ladies."

·

Who can it be?" enquired the lady.

"I wish I could get a peep at him; just undraw the curtains at the bottom of the bed, for a moment. I declare it is papa! but how altered! How dandified he looks! In silk stockings, too! It is very surprising, I declare; Francis never tells me any thing. He might have mentioned to me, if only for the fun's sake, that my good, grave, magisterial father, is over head and ears in love with this little wild, outlandish, half-crazy chit, Isabel Deane."

The first time after this Mr. Talbot entered his lady's apartment, he was assailed by innumerable questionings, of what had been going on below stairs since her confinement, with no very ambiguous hints that he ought to have kept better watch over the proceedings there, and also have informed her of them, as now she feared the intriguing young Indian had stolen a march that never could, even with the best generalship, be recovered. She will get what she desires, and that, too, in spite of us all. I tell you, Francis, this girl will be Lady Ogilvie.”

How true is it that women have more penetration in these matters than men; and why? Because they think more about them. By one single glance had Mrs. Talbot discovered, and from an upper chamber, too, quite apart from the persons concerned, what had never once entered into her husband's head, he had been so much occupied with reading an essay from that eloquent American writer, Dr. Channing, and his yet incipient desire to enter into a friendly controversy with him about some points of theology in the pamphlet he thought it an easy matter to confute, that he had paid very little attention to what was passing around him; but now it was pointed out to him, he remembered a hundred things that confirmed him in the notion that his wife was right, excepting in the idea of design on the part of the accused young lady herself; and here, with a pertinacity that half offended Mrs. Talbot, he defended her against the charge of being "intriguing" and "artful."

"You wrong her, my dear Fanny," said the conscientious young clergyman; "Isabel Deane is as pure and as free from artifice as the very birds or butterflies that she resembles; the simplest child of nature I ever saw she personifies to me," continued Mr. Talbot, "that beautiful creature of the imagination, portrayed so well by Le Sage, his Virginia of the Isle of France: and then her genius! her brilliant flashes of thought! her rapid sketches of nature, so bold, so true! and then her singing!

"Hold your tongue, Francis, for patience' sake," interrupted his lady; why she has absolutely bewitched you all! I am quite provoked with the audacity of the young minx! You are as bad as papa," -and her colour went and came.

"My dear love!" interposed the alarmed husband, "pray calm yourself; such violent feeling, at such a time as this, will do you injury. Think no more about this foolish affair, let me beseech you. If your father has taken a fancy to this poor orphan, what is that to us? You know I shall have a very good income indeed, in a very short time, at my uncle's death, besides the living that he has already purchased the advowson of; then why should we care about his marrying? Let him please himself, dearest; there will always be enough for you, our little Fan, and this young speechless thing. Come, shew him to me, my dear Fanny, again; who is he like? Mrs. Griffiths, are you expert in likenesses? Give us your opinion."

Seeing the object of the affectionate young divine, I did my best to second it; so between us all, we found out that " the baby-boy" was the very image of the present Bishop of London; and, of course, that denoted he would himself wear a pair of lawn sleeves one day or other; perhaps rise to be an archbishop. Hence the lady was consoled, and fell asleep, undisturbed further by the idea that there was a probability of her having a mother-in-law nearly as young as her youngest sister, and almost as child-like as her own little Fanny.

I could not resist occasionally looking out upon the lawn when I heard voices there, especially as I was myself shaded from observation by the muslin curtains; the next time I so indulged that curiosity, inherited from a very long ancestry, which even the mighty Deluge could not wash away, I saw plainly enough that Mrs. Talbot's surmises, as far as regarded her father, Sir William, were tolerably just. Isabel Deane wished to sketch some particular tree that struck her fancy in the shrubbery, close under our window. It was an old oak, half blasted by the lightning, half shivered to pieces, and without a semblance of vitality; the other half green, flourishing, alive in every leaf. There sat the youthful artist, in the Eastern manner, on the soft turf, with her implements beside her, rapidly etching-in the first faint outlines of the gnarled and splintered ruin, and its more fortunate half; her fine eyes looking up for a moment, then transmitting what they saw on to the paper; her two friends the Misses Ogilvie were watching the progress of the sketch, whilst Sir William, on a garden-seat near, with a book in his hand, glanced on her from time to time the most enamoured gaze. How could I doubt the state of his heart, when I heard him a few minutes after say (his loud stentorian voice softened down to the most tender key it was possible for it to take)—

"The dew is falling fast; I cannot therefore allow you, little artist! to sit another minute there, upon the grass; come, Isabel, you can finish that sketch to-morrow."

"To-morrow!" replied the Indian girl; " to-morrow! Why, a second blast of lightning, my father! may come ere then, and where may be my tree? Fallen, fallen! Let me finish my blighted oak, it wants but a few more touches:" and she moved her hand with extreme rapidity. Sir William rose from his garden-chair, and approached

nearer.