always blundering, and I declare here is Edith's drawing-book left after all. Does she not draw prettily ?"

A sketch-book had escaped from the portfolio to the floor, and after picking it up, the gentleman for a moment detained it.

"Prettily! beautifully! exquisitely! and I should imagine the contents of the portfolio are well worth examination."

"O! I am sure you may examine them as much as you like. Edith seemed quite delighted this morning that I took so much pleasure in them. And they will bear looking at. She has had a good education, poor child! and it is a sad thing her having to come here at last; but of course you don't know all about it."

The stranger did not know all about it, but he seemed to know sufficient of the art in question to admire the niece's drawings to the aunt's full content. At length, in removing one of the sketches, a few loose sheets of manuscript written in a delicate female hand, arrested his further search, and closing the book he returned it with very sincere acknowledgments for the pleasure it had afforded him.

"But indeed, sir, you have not yet seen half, scarcely y of the most beautiful ones," interposed Miss Clayton.

"Then I will hope to see them at some future opportunity; at present I fear I have already trespassed too far."

"Well, as you please; and, dear sir, I am troubling you with these things when I ought to be thinking of other matters. Of course you are tired, and the air here is proverbial for giving people an appetite; and I have not asked whether you will prefer taking your meals alone or with us; and I have not yet learned your name, and if you would like fish to dinner; Martin Jones is just going with the cart to Abbercliffe, and will bring some in good time."

Miss Clayton's shower of interrogatories, so well calculated to puzzle the gentleman, did not produce any such effect; he briefly informed her that his name was Edwards, that he should certainly prefer the society of her family to solitude, and that as he had no particular predilection for fish, he should leave the matter entirely to her management.

"And now, my good madam," he continued, "if you will let me know your dinner hour I will contrive to be punctual. I have a commission to deliver myself to the Earl of Errington, after which I shall be at your service."

A very visible start of surprise on the part of Miss Clayton, an embarrassment of manner amounting to agitation, could not escape the notice of Mr. Edwards.

The Earl of Errington! You his visitor, sir! I beg pardon; may I ask if you are particularly acquainted with his lordship?" Not at all; and the gentleman on whose behalf I now seek an interview is as great a stranger as myself."

A sudden thoughtfulness had certainly checked the full flow of Miss Clayton's eloquence; and, taking advantage of the circumstance, her lodger departed, turning his steps in the direction of Errington Park.

It is marvellous how circumstances alter cases. A walk through Errington Park in the fresh stillness of early morning, or in the yet deeper quiet of a summer twilight, was a very different thing to traversing the same picturesque grounds under the influence of a July sun at mid-day. This painful fact was frequently reverted to by Mr. Edwards ere he found himself standing at the principal entrance to the earl's mansion. With the exception of the people at the lodge he had encountered no human being on his way, and there was a drowsy langour about the appearance of the building itself, as it stood silently in the noontide heat with no sign or sound of life, that made the young man pause for a moment, marvelling whether or not he was about to intrude at an hour devoted to the siesta.

Quitting the principal entrance, and approaching a small portal to which a bell was attached, he ventured a rather prolonged peal, that was speedily answered by a servant in showy livery, followed by several others, who joined in scrutinizing the stranger with all the licensed rudeness of their order. About him, however, there was a quiet dignity of manner that repulsed their familiarity without any apparent notice of it. Inquiring if the earl was within, and being answered in the affirmative, he said,

"Tell him that the bearer of this letter, from Mr. Morton, of Jamaica, will wait his perusal of it; and in the meantime, I will thank you to show me into some apartment where I may find refuge from the heat of the day.

The answering bow of the lacquey was sufficiently deferential, for the name of Mr. Morton, of Jamaica, extended its influence through the household; and preceding the strange gentleman until he finally deposited him in the statue saloon as the coolest place, the attendant departed on his errand to the earl.

Leaving Mr. Edwards to amuse himself with the worthies, real and ideal, around him, we will follow the fortunes of the latter. The earl was seated in his library with the Lady Elizabeth, when that document was placed in his hands. The servant disappeared, and the epistle had been twice silently perused before the feelings to which it gave rise found utterance.

Lady Elizabeth quietly continued the broidery work with which she was occupied, seemingly too well aware of the value of selfpossession to allow any circumstance to disturb the cool dignity of her usual manner. It is astonishing how apathetic your women of fashion, and, indeed, your conventional women of all classes, can be. At length the earl found a voice.

"A very extraordinary circumstance, Lady Elizabeth—most

extraordinary. Edward Morton says he has especial reasons for not wishing to appear in England just at present; says this barely, without assigning any motive. In the meantime he commends to our notice an especial friend of his; a friend, indeed, he says, after his own heart. I fear the young man's heart is too expansive for this world. This friend, this Mr. Edwards, is, he says, a poet, and fancies himself a bit of a philosopher. He craves our indulgence to his foibles, our sympathy with his views, which he considers noble; and finally, expresses a wish that we should make ourselves mutually agreeable until he himself is pleased to appear on the scene. This is, in fact, the substance of his communication to me. Extraordinarily cool, certainly. Will you, my dear Lady Elizabeth, see if you can give a more satisfactory version of the epistle?"

Lady Elizabeth held out a steady hand, and, after a leisurely perusal of the said epistle, returned it with a stolid assurance that her father's sum of the whole was perfect in every respect.

"Then how are we to proceed in this affair? A young man who begins by patronizing poets and affecting mysteries will be a rather difficult person to deal with. He is assuming a great deal, indeed; how he came by such notions I cannot imagine; it is an extraordinary circumstance in his case, very extraordinary. I do not keep a poet in my train; indeed I never heard of one being retained except as a useless appendage of royalty. We must cure the young man of such fancies. In the mean time what are we to do with this son of the Muses? He is here recommended to our especial care, and we must bestow him somewhere."

66

Oh, retain him yourself, by all means," was the laconic reply of the Lady Elizabeth.

"It is an extraordinary circumstance," again commenced the earl; but the Lady Elizabeth did sometimes speak before she was strictly required to do so, in order to abridge the extraordinary circumstances enumerated by her father; and she now said abruptly,

"Perhaps you had better see the gentleman before you attempt to decide anything respecting him."

"Right, Lady Elizabeth," said the earl.

It was not the first time that he had been indebted to his daughter's suggestions, and, summoning the attendant, he desired him to let Mr. Edwards know that the Earl of Errington would be happy to see him. A few moments brought him into the presence.

"I believe I have the pleasure of seeing Mr. Edwards, of whom honourable mention is made by my friend here," pointing to the letter.

Mr. Edwards bowed.

"Mr. Edwards, Lady Elizabeth Stanton-Lady Elizabeth,

Mr. Edwards. We meet under rather extraordinary circumstances, which, however, should not make you less welcome. Being in Mr. Morton's confidence, and having so recently left him, you may be able to give us some more definite idea as to the period of his arriving in England than he has here."

"It would be uncandid to affect ignorance of the nature of Mr. Morton's communication to yourself, and I can only repeat what he there states, that he has certain reasons for not wishing to appear in England at present."

This extended confidence put the earl yet further aback, and the words "extraordinary circumstance" were again hovering on his lips, when Lady Elizabeth interposed.

"Perhaps Mr. Edwards will take some refreshment."

The earl added a very decided " Of course,” and moved towards the bell; and for a few seconds Mr. Edwards fixed his eyes upon the countenance of the lady as if in indecision, but he spoke in time to arrest the movement of the earl.

"I thank you, but I have promised to return to the village by two o'clock to dine with the family at whose house I purpose remaining until Mr. Morton makes known his return. In the meantime I will hope that I may be allowed to pay my respects here occasionally.

"Of course, of course," said the earl, "we shall at all times be happy to see you; will you dine with myself and Lady Elizabeth on Thursday? We can then talk over your views and plans for the future, and if I can aid you in any way it will give me infinite pleasure; although, I must confess, I know little about poetry, and have no literary influence. By the way, may I inquire the name of the family you are residing with ?""

"The lady's name is Clayton, Miss Clayton."

Was it merely fancy, or did the name of his landlady produce the same effect on the earl that his own had so recently produced on her? Mr. Edwards turned his eyes involuntarily to the stolid face of Lady Elizabeth, but there all was calm enough; the earl, however, was discomposed, his manner became more frigid, and, glad to take leave on any terms, Mr. Edwards, having accepted the invitation for Thursday, departed.

CHAPTER III.

The house occupied by Miss Clayton was an irregular, oldfashioned brick building, with stone facings, of small pretensions as to size, and bearing about it rather the appearance of comfort than gentility. A well-grown box hedge here and there cut into

fantastic shapes, partly hid it from the road by which it was situated, and beyond a perfect paradise of flowers opened on either side the winding walks. A large projecting latticed window, enveloped in roses and woodbines without, and within forming a delicious recess, occupied one side of the doorway, with its deep portal half hid in a wilderness of ivy. On the other side was the smaller window belonging to the little parlour into which the reader has been introduced, and over which a large beech-tree threw its deep shadows. The building contained only one story, but what it wanted in height was made up in depth, and one half on the opposite side encroached largely on the small orchard by which the little domain was bounded.

For several minutes after her lodger's departure, Miss Clayton remained standing in his apartment, and, as the thoughts by which she was occupied found audible vent, we feel ourselves at liberty to make use of them.

"Well," she exclaimed, "this is odd and vexatious too; a lodger of mine to visit the Earl of Errington! I am sure I don't know what I shall say to Edith. Perhaps he may not have to go there again; at all events the earl will not come here, that's pretty certain. I think he knows better than to show his face, unless, poor man, he could prove that he wore a heart under it. But it is of no use thinking. And what a fine young man this Mr. Edwards is, so dignified yet so courteous, quite the gentleman I am sure; and then so handsome! I am sure Edith will like him, indeed I am determined she shall; so now to prepare her for the first impression."

Sallying forth with the portfolio under her arm, Miss Clayton sought her niece in the larger parlour, and not finding her there, she threaded her way through passages and other rooms innumerable, until she finally emerged into the broad sunshine that streamed through the orchard trees. A merry peal of laughter, and the exclamation "Come here, Missis," drew her into the dairy, where she found her niece busily employed in churning butter, to the infinite amusement of the maid, a rosy, goodhumoured girl of about twenty; and the united merriment of the two had so far disarranged the speech that her aunt had for the last few minutes been busily conning in her own mind, that her face on the present occasion wore a most unwonted expression of discontent.

"Now don't be angry, my dear aunt," exclaimed Edith, pausing in her labours to look up, and exhibiting as she did so a face startling in its radiant beauty, "I promise you on the faith of Hannah here, who says I can do it no harm, that I will not spoil your butter. She has not held out hopes of my doing it any good, but you know you have threatened me with a dozen farmer lovers before the week is out, and as I may marry one of them in the