and all that sort of thing which manifests goodbreeding; but the line in which Mrs. Beauvoir excells all other mistresses, as my friend, Lady

says, is the air which she gives her pupils. Much is done in this way by her tableaux-the sweetest things you ever saw, Lady H—, the very sweetest things; she has a public display of this kind every winter. What was your last, Matilda? My memory is so bad; I forget the master, but the subject was mythological, something of the goddesses on Parnassus, and Matilda was the most prominent figure-she was the Dian, and between ourselves, she quite Eclipsed the Venus,-she was so still, so marble-like, so majestic; and there was such a pretty little Cupid hanging about his mother, though the little girl who represented him could not help smiling, which was a pity. But these tableaux, Lady H—, do give such command to the countenance-they are the finest exercise in the world; for, as Mrs. Beauvoir says, there is nothing on earth more low-bred than too much play of the musclesnot to speak of that horrid thing, a burst of laughter. The smiles of a young lady of qua lity should be entirely under command; even the eye should be subject to regulation. You may shake your head, my dear sister, but as I have often said to you, a laughing, dancing eye is a dangerous thing; it often betrays too much of the heart. Your pretty niece's eyes always smile before her lips, and even sometimes when those rosy lips are very politely primmed up; this should be corrected before she goes out into the world. As Mrs. Beauvoir

says, nothing so much distinguishes a woman of real birth from a parvenue, in these days, as an upright carriage, a firm step, and a settled, steadfast look-a look which is not drawn aside by every passing object, or which betrays an interest in what people, perhaps low people, are doing and saying about them. It is in these small matters, though perhaps I should not call them small, that I feel that you are liable to fail in the bringing up of Lucilla—not from any defects in yourself, dear Lady Hbut from the retirement to which she must, in a certain degree, be condemned at Woodville." Nay, dear Lady Anne," said Lady H"do not compliment me on my capabilities of giving a finish to a young lady, like that given by Mrs. Beauvoir; I feel assured, that if Lucilla is brought up by me, she will have none of the perfections given at Laurel Grove, -I have them not myself."

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"At our time of life," replied Lady Anne, "these things are of less importance, as I tell my daughter; but I have remarked of Lucilla, as I before hinted, that she seems to take no account whatever of the station of the person on whom she bestows those smiles."

"She is a child yet," said Lady H——, " and ought not yet to be aware of the great caution necessary in the world. At present, I must confess that her courtesies are very indiscriminately bestowed, as it respects station in life."

"Well, my dear sister, this cannot be right, and I hope you will think of Mrs. Beauvoir's seminary for your sweet little protégée."

Now, Henry Milner, though not wishing to listen, having heard the name of Lucilla, had been anxious to hear more; but it would be difficult to describe the violent anger which he felt when he heard Laurel House recommended. He was not well able to rise, but he begun to fidget, and Lady H coming up to him, he ventured to whisper to her, that he hoped she would not send Lucilla to be spoilt at Mrs. Beauvoir's. "O Lady H," he said, "please not to let her be brought up according to the ways of the world."

"Not," said Lady H--, "whilst I have principle and power to prevent it; so make yourself content on that head, Henry."

It is not the intention of the writer to enlarge much upon the remainder of Mr. Dalben's visit to Lord H. From the period of the steeple chase, Miss Sandys fell entirely into the back-ground; had she been troubled with such a thing as a heart, it might have been suspected that the high hand with which Marten carried his nonchalance gave her some pain, especially when, after the first day, his coldness evidently cost him no effort. It was not thought right for Henry to move much. during the remainder of his stay at Lord H-'s, and accordingly, little Robert, who was recovering his infantine beauty rapidly after the chicken-pox, thought it a matter of duty, as it was no doubt one of pleasure, to try to amuse him. Hence he brought down into the drawing-room many of his toys, and sat on the carpet by Henry playing with them. Lucilla, of course, was often with her brother, and thus

the friendship between these three continued to increase from day to day. In the meantime, Henry knew not what to make of Marten, whose manner, though always kind, seemed to carry with it an unaccountable reservedness, for he was often absent for hours in a morning, and never volunteered any account of these excursions. Henry, however, was pleased to hear him say that he should be glad when the time came for their return into Worcestershire, which proved that he had not entirely lost his taste for simple life.

A visit from old Mr. Clayton, to thank Henry in person, which he did in the handsomest manner, bringing at the same time a good account of his son, was the only matter worthy of record which occurred before Mr. Dalben and the young men left Woodville; still, happy as Henry ever had been at home, when he took leave of his noble friends, and especially of Lucilla and Robert, he found it very hard to restrain his tears, and often during that day, the wish occurred, "O that I had a sister!"

CHAPTER X.

Another turn of the wheel.

It was five o'clock in the evening when the carriage which conveyed Mr. Dalben, Henry, and Marten within, and Maurice without, rolled in at the gate of the old house in Worcestershire, which gate Thomas, who had stood waiting there ever since the rumbling of the wheels had been heard, with Lion at his side, opened with an alacrity which said, "You are all welcome." As the chaise passed in, Maurice nodded to his fellow-servant from the dickey on which he was mounted, with an air which spoke as plainly as that with which Thomas had opened the gate, and which said, "I am not the same boy who left this place a few weeks since; I have seen more of life than you have, Mr. Thomas." At the halldoor, Edgar Bonville sprang out to greet the travellers, with a warmth and a glee which was exceedingly agreeable. Mrs. Kitty was also standing on the steps to welcome her mas