"I've heard it," replied he; "your Aunt Colville has told me, and it has cut me up sadly: but we must not be unreasonable with you; we must consider your own feelings."

Agnes was taken by surprise; but still it was a relief to find that she was spared making the painful disclosure. Her uncle had resolved, with feelings of true delicacy, not to let her know that of which her aunt had informed him regarding the state of her affections; but his heart was so full that it was next to impossible to conceal it.

"I hoped," said he, looking tenderly in her face, "that we had made you happy amongst us." 'You have, dear uncle," said she, rising to his side, and laying her arm on his shoulder as he liked her to do," and I shall never forget your affection for me. You have been like a second father, and parting from you is like a repetition of my first sorrow" she could not restrain her feelings and wept bitterly-she seated herself on the low seat beside him, on which she sat to read to him. He wept with her; he laid his hand upon her head as her own father used to do, and drew it tenderly to his knee; and thus they both sat for a long time in silence.

"You have been a daughter to me, Agnes," at length he said, "a very dear daughter. I owe you many pleasant hours. Old man as I am, I have been benefited by your conversation, by your example! I have sometimes thought that, like Abraham, unawares I have entertained an angel. May God Almighty bless you, my child, and reward you better than I can! may he bless with fulfilment every desire of your heart! Tell me, my child, is there anything I can do for you?"

Agnes said nothing; she clasped her uncle's hand in hers, and pressed it tenderly to her lips; but she could at that moment make no reply.

At length the old man raised himself in his chair, wiped his eyes, gave a husky cough, and showed that he was about to shake off the grief that oppressed him.

"Now, my love," said he, "let us talk rationally together. Is there anything which your old uncle can do for you?"

She replied that there was nothing.

"Then you must do something for me," said he; "you must not leave me immediately; Ada always is engaged; I shall miss you greatly. I cannot part with you all at once; can you not wait yet a month?”

Agnes replied that it was her wish to go sooner. "Well, a week," said he, remembering that his son remained from home so long. "I cannot part with you under a week! and promise me, moreover, that you will come again to me. I will not fix when it shall be at your own time; when your own heart can bear it-or when you are disposed," added he, wishing to amend the expression; "but for me you cannot come too soon!"

The allusion which her uncle had twice made to the state of her own heart troubled her; she feared that the true state of her feelings regarding Mr. Latimer was discovered-she blushed, and her uncle was all the more confirmed in his own belief.

"And even if you should never come back," said he, "write to me sometimes, and tell me about your brothers; the little fellow that has the Rutherford face, and Arthur. I wish we could have had them here! And then, when you marry let me know; and don't be in a hurry, Agnes, for there are few men who are worthy of you; but I

should like to know, for I consider you as one of my own children; and if I can make you no better return, I can give you a dowry."

Again Agnes wept; she was questioning with herself whether after all she were justified in leaving him. "I will stay with you a week," said she," and, please God, when Ada is married to Mr. Latimer, and my cousin is married, then if he and his wife will have me for an inmate, I will come and be with you; for as to marrying myself, dearest uncle, I am not likely to do that!"

"You shall come and live with me," said he, kissing her tenderly, and looking very nuch pleased. "I shall keep you to your word, spite of a whole clan of raw-boned Scotsmen."

The rain, which had now continued for three or four days without much intermission, gave signs of clearing off, and the news that Miss Agnes Lawford was about to leave her uncle's, circulated about till it reached the Hays.

The very morning after it reached Mr. Latimer, he rode over to Lawford. He had several reasons for going there just then one of these we will state. His brother-in-law, Mr. Acton, was a great promoter of floriculture, especially among the people. The cottagers all around him were florists. One of the first things which he did three years before, when he purchased his little estate and began to lay out his grounds, before his house was built, was to establish in the neighborhood a floricultural society, from which prizes were to be given to the poor for their best flowers. Since he had resided in the neighborhood, his example had made the thing popular and fashionable also. The flower-shows were pleasant occasions of meeting, and the whole country round talked of them with interest and delight. It was now the time of auriculas and ranunculuses; and the little society was to hold its first meeting this season, in the lovely grounds belonging to Mr. Acton. The gentlemen of the neighborhood were to send green-house plants; a tent was to be erected in the grounds, as a sort of temple of Flora; and cards of invitation had been issued for above a fortnight. There was quite an excitement in that little country-world about this occasion, which it was rumored was to be unusually splendid and interesting; and then came the rain and dashed everybody's hopes; the poor man's flowers, the rich people's show, and the whole country's pleasure! But in all cases there is a little cranny for hope to creep in at, and so it was now; people hoped that the weather would change with the change of the moon. The moon changed, and at that very time the most glorious weather began.

The Lawfords had all been invited to dine at the Actons', after the prizes were distributed; and now the ostensible motive of Mr. Latimer's visit had reference to this. The flower-show was in two days; he prophesied, of a certainty, fine weather, and he wished to engage the whole Lawford family to take luncheon at the Hays, as had been arranged on the unfortunate day of the proposed picnic. It was but a very little way out of their direct road, and his manner very clearly showed that he intended to have no refusal. Agnes had not seen him now for several days; the circumstance of the pine-apples being sent to Ada, trivial as it was, had satisfied her that her own imagination had given much greater importance to his attentions on the night of the rectory party, than there was any occasion for. She was going, she thought, so soon, that even the prospect of meeting

Agnes to meet him. What a wonderful virtue there is in kindness! She did not even express a wish to stay at the Hays, although her uncle preferred doing so. He was afraid, he said, of the ten miles farther; so he was carefully cushioned in an easy chair, in the library, and left to take his nap, and amuse himself till dinner, when Mr. Latimer promised him, that his old acquaintance, the Vicar of Merley, should come and dine with him; promising that on their way to the Actons', he would call at the vicarage, to make this arrangement for him. Agnes and her brothers, who were not to be divided, were to be driven in Mr. Latimer's carriage, and Mr. Latimer himself was to accompany Ada and her aunt. The arrangement outwardly seemed good and satisfactory.

A great deal of company had already arrived at the cottage; nothing could look gayer, or more beautiful, than the grounds; and the cavalry band, which was a very good one, played at intervals. It was quite a fairy-land scene. The grounds at the cottage were extensive, and laid out in the finest taste; there was wood and water within their boundary, and ample space for rambling and solitude here and there, fit for any love-scene what

ever.

"If it were only a rosebud," said Agnes, quite touched by his conduct, "I would treasure it for your sake!"

"Here then," said Tom, "the subject ends forever between us."

"It does," returned Agnes; "but we are friends forever."

Ada and Mr. Latimer walked arm in arm, up and down the long shadowy pleached walk, that ran the whole length of the garden. People saw them and avoided the walk, for all the world believed them to be lovers. But their conversation, whatever it might be, only left Ada graver, and more thoughtful; the true feelings of her heart, however, were concealed under her coldest and proudest demeanor. She received everywhere the homage of her beauty, and George Bridport, who would only have been too happy to have carried her lap-dog, was ten times over her slave. The world said, however, that Ada Lawford was not in her most amiable humor that day. If it had said, that a blight had fallen on her youth and her life that day, it would have been much truer.

"What two handsome boys these are!" exclaimed many a one as they saw Arthur and Harry, with their bright and joyous countenances, which bore, in their characteristic difference of expression, a resemblance to morning and even

These are Mr. Frank Lawford's sons," said one to another, among the company, " and that young lady in mourning is his daughter!" "How interesting looking they are!" was the

"I dare say," said he, "it seems to you a strangely hurried affair; and so it is-but it is all right. The only fault is, that Henrietta is too good for me; and so were you, dear Agnes," said he; "God knows how I want still to have a deal of talk with you. They tell me that you are going -I am sorry for it; if, however, it is on my account, I promise you in no way to displease, or annoy you. You are very dear to me, Agnesand your visit in our family has had a strange influence on me; but I think I told you that before. But however, Agnes, go where you may, I shall always be your friend; and if I am ever worthy of Henrietta it is owing to you-I have told her so already and my prayer is, that you may meet with a husband more worthy of you than I am, and who may love you as well as I should have done!"'

with his world-widening reputation, people wished to notice them; and many a poor man, too poor to buy his works, but who had known them well by newspaper extracts, or by some stray well-worn volume, which had fallen into their hands, and thenceforth became a text-book to their little circle, looked after them with a sentiment, more akin to reverence, than if they had been the queen's own offspring.

In the evening, when the company was all gone, and dinner was over, and coffee had been sipped, and people had chatted, and talked over all the affairs of the day, Mrs. Colville, who, she hardly knew why, was not quite satisfied with several things, began to be impatient to return. The boys, however, were out; and Tom, who was to return with them to the hall, was not to be found; and then, when they were found, it was discovered that Agnes and Mr. Latimer were missing.

It was just like collecting a stray flock of sheep.

"You see how reluctant our friends are to leave us," said Mrs. Acton, smiling. "I wish you would follow their example."

But Mrs. Colville could neither smile nor follow their example; besides which, and that was very unpleasant to her, Mrs. Acton seemed so provok

"That we will!" said Tom, emphatically. "And there is a foolish little thing, which I must mention to you," said he; "I gave you those jet ornaments I had been foolish enough to make your wearing them or not, an omen for my heart, on that evening of my sister's party. I was very disagreeable that night to you. I was disappointed, and annoyed; but, however, that is past. And now will you accept those ornaments from me as an atonement? I wish that they were worthier."

nes sought after. They could not be far off, she said; they would soon be making their appearance, and it really was very early.

At length Harry, to whom Mrs. Colville appealed, said that he had seen them down by the water-side, just when he and his brother were bringing up the boat to the shore-that was half a mile off, he said, and he should not wonder if they were there still.

It was proposed to send Harry to seek them; and then, just at that very moment, in walked

Agnes, and Mr. Latimer following her. Everybody's eyes were upon them. It looked very suspicious, but no one said anything; the carriages were waiting.

"Enough, enough!" said Latimer, well pleased by what she had said; "for I know after this, and of a certainty, that you will be my own dear Agnes; permit me only to speak to your uncle." In the hands of Mr. Latimer, it seemed to Agnes, as if it would be hurried on too fast.

66

The boys talked all the way they went; nothing could equal the flow of their spirits. It was well for Agnes that they were all-sufficient for themselves, for she had more to think of that evening, than she had ever had to think of before.

I cannot tell what my uncle would say-I know not even what he ought to do regarding it; none of our family, not even myself, have been prepared for this!"

Such an interview as this, might well make both Agnes and Mr. Latimer silent in their respective carriages on their drive back to the Hays.

"How remarkably silent, almost stupid, Mr. Latimer is to-night," whispered Mrs. Colville to Ada as they sat in the carriage at the door of the Hays, waiting for Mr. Lawford, who was now to join them. Mr. Latimer brought out the old gentleman, who seemed amazingly merry; the old Vicar was with him, and they seemed quite reluctant to part. He was assisted into the carriage; his gout-stool and his air-cushions were settled to his mind.

Oh, if Agnes could only have acted from the impulses of her own heart, how easy would have been the answer-but a sense of honor and of delicacy towards her cousin, made the answer which her heart dictated impossible.

She hesitated; she would not speak a falsehood; she dared not speak the truth. She felt, exactly as Mrs. Colville had always done, that Mr. Latimer was not a man to be trifled with; but how was she to explain even her hesitation without betraying her cousin.

"I was told," at length she said, " even before I came to Lawford, that you were engaged to my cousin Ada; and to speak the truth, I have always regarded you as destined for her."

"There was a time," replied Mr. Latimer, "I will not deny it, when my heart pleaded very warmly for Ada; but in her I found not all that I required in a wife. Two years absence from England confirmed still more my earlier opinions regarding women. I returned cured of my passion, which, for some time before I left, I had sufficient reason to consider hopeless. I returned sobered in many respects, and two years older in feeling. The very day after my return I met you; you were the realization of all my hopes and requirings; since that moment my mind has never wavered, nor doubted the wisdom of its choice. I know my own character, Agnes, and I believe also that I know something of yours-enough at least to convince me, that we are in all respects suited to each other; we have tastes and feelings in common; the same views in life. Where then is the cause for demur or doubt ?""

"It is," said Agnes, "like pleading against my own happiness; almost like ingratitude to Heaven to oppose what you say. But do not require from me at this moment a definite answer; I was not prepared for this. I feel that much is to be considered-weighed. There are many consequences, which I can foresee and which I dread-I feel as if this were a happiness not meant for me, and which I have no right to."

her seat; Mr. Latimer offered her his hand at parting; the very touch thrilled her to the heart. "Good-night! good-night!" rang from the lips of the merry-hearted boys. "We shall come up to Lawford to-morrow!"

"Do; there are good fellows!" returned Mr. Lawford, and the carriage drove away.

CHAPTER XX.

The day was ended; an important day to three of our party. Every one, even Mr. Lawford, seemed tired, and all immediately retired for the night.

Ada exchanged not a word with her cousin ; but, as Agnes sat in her chamber a full hour after midnight, yet dressed, pondering with an anxious and deeply foreboding mind on the decided turn which events had taken, again the door opened which divided her bed-room from her cousin's, and Ada, pale as marble, and looking almost as rigid, stood in the doorway, and said in a sad and solemn voice, "Come into this room; I have something to say to you!"

With somewhat the feeling of a criminal, and yet with a heart ready almost to give up life for her sake, Agnes obeyed; and, as she had done on a former occasion, seated herself on the sofa beside her.

"I have much to say to you," said Ada: "much which concerns your peace and mine, and the sooner it is said the better. You have proved yourself worthy of my confidence; you never betrayed my former confession even to Mr. Latimer. I thank you! you have not caused me to lose my own self-respect. A weak character, with your generous feelings, thinking to have served me with Mr. Latimer, would have betrayed me to him. How much I thank you for not having done so! Had Mr. Latimer's heart inclined to me, even in the smallest degree, no confession of any kind would have been needed; as it did not, such a confession must only have been humiliating to me. The time when he could become attached to me, has long been passed; I cherished false hopes,