me giddy," said some young man near them. "I shouldn't care if I never walked steadily again. Heavens! what a smile she has!"

Mr. Morton happened to look round. He saw Margaret behind him, leaning back in her chair, gazing with great, wistful eyes on the group in front of the piano, and breathing fitfully, as if still listening to the impassioned music. He did not forget she was there as he went on talking with his companions, who were standing before her. She had excited his curiosity all the evening.

"But it's nonsense to talk about a woman of Catalani's age in that way. She is old enough to be Arundel's mother," said Mrs. Russell.

"Is she old?" asked Brutus. "I never should have thought it!"

"You would not have thought about it, you mean," said Mr. Morton. "I will tell you a little fact, Mrs. Russell,-which you and Mrs. Harrington, and other handsome young women do not seem to know. Youth is not indispensable for a fair enslaver. Great as is the charm of youth in a woman, there are some women who can do without it-nay, because they are without it, men are disposed to believe that youth is something not worth having-any change in them would be for the worse. Women of moderate beauty, and great originality of character, have a sort of bodily originality and uniqueness which makes them perpetually charming. Age cannot wither them. Cleopatra or Catalani at fifty, is worth a dozen fair maidens of sixteen, in the eyes of any young man of taste and feeling. My nephew, there, is quite épris; and on my honour, I don't wonder at it, for she has shown great liking to him this evening."

"My wise uncle judges from his knowledge of ordinary men," said Lord Merle to James Hastings. He has no notion of the transitory emotions that impel without taking possession of the artistic soul. There is not depth of passion enough, not solidity enough, in that sweet singer yonder, to touch my brother's heart; though he loves her voice, and is

pleased with her altogether. My belief is, that in spite of the ministerings to la belle passion which he has found in music, painting, and poetry, my brother Arundel is as yet unscathed. He likes the society of women; but he likes books and music better. As for me, just now, I'm half in love with two girls I never saw!"

"That's a safe passion, at all events," said James, laughing. "Who are the unknown, divided objects ?"

"The Trevor girls, my father's wards. They are coming to live with us in less than a year. What's the matter? Margaret ill? Is she? This confounded heat! All these people standing before her. She is not used to these things. Here, get her out of that crowd to this door. It leads to Miss Price's rooms. I thought Arundel was with her!-Ah, he's deep in his flirtation with Catalani. However, she will go soon, and then the dancing will begin. We must have Margaret well again for that. She used to be so fond of dancing!" "I need not say anything to Mrs. Harrington, I suppose, if you take her to Miss Price ?" he inquired, as he opened the side door.

"Oh, no!" said Margaret, faintly, "don't say a word!—I shall be better presently. The room is too warm. you!"

Thank

James conducted her through the door, and Lord Merle followed, closing it behind him.

"A wonderfully clever little girl that with her bright brown eyes and light hair!" said Mr. Morton, in a whisper to Sir John Fortescue. "She knows what she's about. Sim

plicity is her cue."

'She's not at all pretty, but there's something that arrests attention about her. She looks like a picture I have seen," replied Sir John. "What's all that? Oh, Catalani going! This room will soon be emptied. I've a word to say to you, Morton, and to Willoughby and Arundel. Bring them here if you can." And Sir John turned to a group of ladies, who looked as if they wanted somebody to talk to them. Sir John laid it down as a rule at evening parties to say as many

civil words to as many uninteresting people as he could conveniently come at. Fair words cost nothing, but they buy golden opinions.

CHAPTER XI.

OUT OF THE FASHIONABLE WORLD.

"Oh, thou art fairer than the evening air,
Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars."

"Dead shepherd! Now I know thy saw of might;
'Who ever loved, that loved not at first sight?'"

MARLOWE.

As you Like It.

"When men were fond, I smiled and wondered how!" Measure for Measure.

"WHAT a relief!" exclaimed Lord Merle, as soon as he had shut out the sounds of the music-room. They were in a cool, dimly-lighted lobby. "This is elysium, after that heat and glare. However, I am an áme damnée, and must go back as soon as I have shown you the way to Miss Price's rooms. She looks very pale! Get her to the good old woman aş fast as you can. This way! There,-knock at that door. I hope you will soon be able to come back. Yes; that's the door!"

James, with Margaret half fainting on his arm, knocked at the door indicated. There was an immediate reply of “ Come in.” James went in accordingly; and if Lord Merle could have seen into Miss Price's room at that moment, he would have entered too, in spite of the attractions of the ball and the promise to his father.

"My dear Miss Price, will you excuse this intrusion? My sister is ill, and Lord Merle suggested that I should bring her to you

"Is it Margaret ?" inquired the old lady, rising hastily from her seat between two young ladies, who also rose, and looked compassionately at Margaret. "Here, my dear Mr. James, place her on this sofa near the window-poor girl! I

suppose the rooms are very crowded.

What folly it is to

invite your friends to come and be stifled!"

"I think the music has affected her rather too much," said James, putting back Margaret's hair tenderly from her forehead, as he bent over the arm of the sofa on which he had laid her.

"Don't lean over her, my dear James!" said Miss Price. "She wants air, and a little cold water. Will you ring the bell ?"

As James turned to look for the bell, a female voice of strangely sweet quality sounded in his ear.

"You need not ring; my sister has gone to fetch water." For the first time he saw the speaker distinctly. What a contrast to the gorgeously adorned women that lately thronged around him, and dazzled his eyes or pleased his fancy. It was a young lady whose quaint simplicity of attire (something between a Quaker and a nun) did not conceal, as it was intended to do, the extraordinary brilliancy of her beauty. A gown of grey stuff enveloping the figure to the throat, and relieved only by a small white collar, did not hide the exquisite nobleness of her young form,-nor did the little white cap, à la sœur de charité, conceal the shape of that beautiful head, or the rare perfection of the Rafaelle-like face.

James Hastings could not choose but gaze upon so fair a vision. While his eyes were still fixed-half fearing that it would melt into the air and prove to be such stuff as dreams are made of—lo! a second form, clothed like the first, stood beside her, bearing a crystal ewer. Together they approached his sister, and began to bathe her face and chafe her hands. They were silent, and graceful as ministering spirits. That second apparition was fair-more beautiful than any earthly creature he had ever seen, except the first. She was a miracle that earth in all its mighty round could not match. Soon his eyes saw only her as she stood at Margaret's head, with her lovely face bowed, and her large lustrous eyes shadowed by their transparent lids, fixed in tender pity on the senseless girl.

66

'Surely there is something more than human in that beauty!" his heart whispered. "Angel-ah! now I see that men are not fools or madmen when they call a woman angel. Thy Spirit, O God, looks out from that face. Thou hast vouchsafed so much of goodness and harmonious beauty—so much of divinity to this, thy creature-that it were scarcely idolatry to kneel. All the air is full of her, and reflects her beauty-the place on which she stands is holy ground.

'Tis her breathing that

Perfumes the chamber thus:-the flame o' the taper
Bows towards her; and would underpeep her lids
To see the enclosed lights; now canopied
Under the windows, white and azure, laced

With blue of heaven's own tint.'"

Thus wandered the fancy of James Hastings-leading him, with a quickened pulse and kindled eye, into a new world. A world higher, purer, brighter, warmer, and more beautiful than the one in which he had hitherto lived!—a world up above the common earth!-nearer-oh, much nearer to God! To see her—to be near her―surely this is Heaven?—he thought. Yes! The heaven of love; in which pure and noble souls,— gentle and true souls,-expatiate freely, and find a happy home, -forgetful of the lets and hindrances of mortality; but learning thoroughly, in that brief space, the lesson which they can never forget the lesson which

"That boon, life's richest treat,"

was perhaps designed by its great Giver to teach them: viz., that, in spite of all misery and shortcomings, and sin and direful change, there is in man's nature a capacity for love and happiness-a capacity for being good and pure, which (as God hath made nothing in vain) must and will struggle into a fitting sphere for its full and permanent exercise. I cannot think that any one who has ever known a true, passionate, yet pure love can believe that man is not made for immortal happiness. There is an earnesta foretaste of the real perfect life in that, which no amount of wordy logic or balance of