But

I really believe it is the only devotion of which a modern man takes account. beware, Sidney, that you become not the worshipper of a painted idol, an automaton. I had fondly fancied that I was already acquainted with my daughter. Poor Grace -poor girl !”

"You compel me to smile, my dear father," said Sidney, "when you attempt to deplore the fate of my cousin. Is not sir George Beverly the most amiable of men? are not his family the fondest admirers of Miss Wentworth's character? in short, is not the union, in every point of view, a most promising one?"

"Granted," said the baronet; " yet Grace would have preferred a Wentworth. I know it, sir-do not attempt to contradict me. She has loved you from infancy. Nay, your strangely altered looks half con vince me that you have come down, with a secret hope of being able to destroy the projected alliance."

"On my honour as a man," replied Sid

ney, with a look which strongly expressed his offended virtue, "I never loved Miss Wentworth with other than a brother's love; and though your partiality has led you to imagine that my cousin has distinguished me by her preference, I must beg to contradict you. She possesses too much delicacy to betray such a feeling, even admitting that she owned it; and she is too well acquainted with my sentiments with respect to the sex in general, not to know that I should actually abhor the woman who claimed, rather than won my affections."

"You will be a miserable man, Sidney," interrupted sir Ormsby. "These absurd notions might occasion a smile, if uttered by a boy; but at your age, sir, I had hoped better things. Let me tell you, Sidney, if a man is not reasonable at seven-and-twenty, he makes but a sorry figure in the world."

"My dear father," replied Wentworth, "we will not argue this point. I believe that my reason is yet in its infancy, if marriage is the emanation which is to establish

its bounds. Love, pure love, a feeling I am ever anxious to avow, has brought me hither. I thought your last letter seemed to express a wish to see me; and I am here in obedience to that idea."

"It was well judged, my son. Sidney, Heaven is my witness that your happiness

the paramount consideration of my life. I project and dismiss my plans, yet ever conclude with one wish-to see you settled, by which I mean married. You are the last prop of our once-numerous family. I cannot consent to believe that our name is to die with you;-no, you will bless the declining age of your father, and give him a daughter. Could you once bring yourself to love a woman of virtue, even so as to preclude your poor old father from his present share in your affections, could I see that moment-behold you arranging your home to receive her, I should be the happiest of men; and take my word, Sidney, there is no bliss like that which a ra tional domestic home dispenses."

"I am assured of it, sir," replied Wentworth, thoughtfully. "A woman of virtue is a creature who improves the sphere in which she revolves; and-and none other are worthy of our consideration."

"Spoken like a man of honour," said the baronet, grasping the hand of his son. "A father, my dear boy, who knows the world for what it is, must be forgiven if his fears mix even with his hopes. You have passed through the dazzling scene of youth with credit to yourself. Not a vice has marked your career; never have I had occasion to reprove you. I have, and I must continue to regret, that your cousin was not the object of your choice. The match, in every point of view, was desirable; the contiguity of the estates; her rational and unfashionable education; in short, I had set my heart upon it, and I am disappointed."

The very thoughtful cast which clouded the brow of Wentworth during this harangue of the baronet, excited the curio

sity of the father. It was the most natural thing in the world for a son, thus eulogized, either to disclaim the redundant praise, or express his gratitude.

Wentworth did neither. He seemed lost to the present; and sir Ormsby, whose affection for his son was unbounded, took fright at this apparent apathy. He feared that his recent upbraidings made his present sentiments irreconcileable; and, with all the submission of a doating parent, he besought his son not to think of what he had said; that Miss Wentworth would very shortly be lady Beverly; and as he did not know any other woman worthy of him, it was most probable he would be spared all further importunity.

Sidney smiled languidly at these transitive conditions; at the same time candidly avowing that he had not the most remote idea of marrying. He was unwilling to cast a general censure on a state ordained with so much considerate tenderness for the happiness of man; but of the few he knew who

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