But, in fact, the enjoyment of the day before seemed now at least to have been problematical. What she had seen, had by no means satisfied her; for it had left her with no very high opinion of her species. The fashionable part of her company seemed stiff, jealous, and unimpressive; the rustic, equally jealous, and not the more sincere from having less polish.

Examining her own part in the exhibition, she could not divest herself of the notion, that to be the object and centre of a great circle, one must be, or at least seem to be, a great actress. This did not please; and in the midst of company and magnificence, she found there was a void in her heart, for which, as it was unexpected, so she could not account. It was, therefore, without regret, that she saw her guests rapidly diminishing as the day advanced.

Unreasonable Constance! thus to deal with the gifts of the world, and not to "take the good the gods provide thee!" She wondered at it herself; and upon being rallied by the Marchioness, and questioned (though without raillery) by Lady Eleanor, she confessed all that had passed in her heart the evening before; and in particular the little sufficiency of the apparently gay scene in which they had been engaged, to supply the enjoyment she had expected.

The three ladies had escaped from the Partridge family and from the gentlemen who were occupied with their politics, into the path that led to the bee-garden, when this confession began; and I shall make no apology for presenting it to the reader, as characteristic of all three.

Lady Eleanor said she was not surprised, for she had herself remarked the conversation of those who had approached Lady Constance; "and whether," said Lady Eleanor, "from my retired habits, or that the world is really changed, I found none who came up to the notions I had formed of fit companions for the mind of my niece.'

"And yet we must not be too fastidious," said the Marchioness; "the world has many disagreeable things in it, men and women among them, yet, upon the whole, it is a good world, and the little defects

that appear in manners and character in mixed society, where all character seems for a time disguised, may soften down, and disappear upon better acquaintance."

"The acting of Mr. Freshville, for instance," said Lady Eleanor; "the folly of Sir Bertie; or, I am sorry to say it, the insolence of my kinswoman, Lady Elizabeth, and her daughters."

"Why, even of these," observed the Marchioness, we have only seen some faults that certainly float on the surface. Should we look deeper, we might find some counter-balancing good. I cannot, I own, discover much under the solemnity of Mr. Freshville; but Sir Bertie has, at least, great good-nature; and the youthful silliness of your young cousins may not prevent them hereafter from proving good wives and mothers."

"Impossible!" exclaimed Lady Eleanor. "I love your good-nature, Marchioness, but you have been too happy in the world; the Marquess and a prosperous life have spoiled you, and long may you continue to be so spoiled."

Lady Clanellan rather smiled at her earnestness; and as, like most people who have no reason to be out of humour with the world, she was in good-humour with it, and had always endeavoured to infuse this spirit into her young pupil, she did not choose this representation to pass without comment; she therefore observed, "You will at least allow, my dear Lady Eleanor, that I have had no reason for misgivings in the midst of prosperity, and that our dear Constance's fears, at the end of her fête, may have been, as they probably were, the mere effect of fatigue."

"It was the effect," said Constance," of an unsatisfied feeling, for which I could not, and cannot now, give a reason, where all is seemingly so promising of satisfaction."

"As if," said the Marchioness, "there being different lots in life, we should not pursue, or enjoy the high, as well as the low."

That is all very true and sensible," answered Lady Eleanor; "but the fear is, that the high lot may

make us think too much of ourselves, and too little of the Giver; though that, I am sure, will never be my dear Constance's condition."

"I trust not," said Constance; and yet the feeling I had, was as if I was not sufficiently humble, and deserved to be lowered. I thought, too, as I looked fearfully at these proud walls, and recollected who I was, how much happier I should be if I had a brother."

"In that respect, I scarcely know what to wish for you," said Lady Clanellan; "but leave it safely to Him whom you so properly invoked not to try you beyond your strength. Yet I cannot help owning, that had you a brother, it might save you some trials."

"It might save me from Lord Cleveland,” observed Constance, with a sigh; "and on this I could not help brooding. I thought myself too great, and could not help repeating some of those passages which Mortimer is so often repeating.

'One heav'd on high, to be hurl'd down below;
• A garish flag,
To be the aim of ev'ry dangerous shot.'

On the other hand, I thought, and wistfully too, of the passage in your favourite Walton, which we are all so fond of I will walk the meadows, by some gliding stream, and there contemplate the lilies that take no care.' I almost wished myself one of these lilies."

"These are all delightful indications," said the Marchioness, and show a disposition, the farthest in the world from what you dread; and upon the whole," added she, smiling, "I think you may be reconciled to your fate, of being a great heiress; though I allow it is not every heart that can stand prosperity."

"Will it give me one real friend?" asked Con

stance.

"It neither will, nor ought to give you one," replied her aunt; "too happy if it do not forbid your distinguishing friends from flatterers."

"That is what I most feel, and most fear;" answered Constance, with much seriousness.

"And what is to forbid," asked the Marchioness, "that there should be persons in your own station, as estimable and capable of friendship, at the very least, as those below you: and if there are, that they should seek out and love one so worthy to be loved? It is, surely, the saddest, and most unjust of all mistakes, to suppose that the great have no feeling; or that because they may be rich, they cannot be good."

"Yet we are admonished pretty pointedly, in the sacred book," said Lady Eleanor, "about the difficulty of the rich man. However, nobody who knows you, Marchioness, will say this is universal. Yet, let us confess, there are not many Lord Clanellans among the Peers; and I should say fewer still like his wife among the Peeresses."

"I confess no such thing," said the Marchioness; "and could name many an Earl's daughter, the ornament as well as inhabitant of a Castle, like our dear Constance here, who while they are formed to adorn a high station, have all the gentler virtues of a moderate

one.

"I am sure I will not question it," replied Lady Eleanor; "you will, however, at least own, that prosperity has a tendency to harden the heart, though your's may have escaped."

"You will render me vain in the very worst way of being so," replied the Marchioness; "vain of humility, for if I have so escaped it has surely been from a sense of my own littleness."

"The very thing," observed Constance, "which I felt so home, when I thought of the masque, and all that was said upon it. I was even almost angry with Mortimer for his undeserved gallantry. There seemed a voice whispering in my ear the folly I had been guilty of in listening to it, and the precariousness of all on which I had been so complimented."

"'Twas a kind voice," said Lady Eleanor.

"I shall not soon forget it," answered Constance. The conversation was here interrupted by their meeting Dr. Herbert, De Vere, and Lord Cleveland,

who had been to the Dairy-house in quest of the ladies; Lord Cleveland declaring they ought not to submit to be cut off from the only society that made the country bearable. He was about to address Constance, but saw something in her countenance which disclosed deeper subjects than those on which he wished to entertain her.

"Dr. Herbert," said the Marchioness, "I want your assistance against a couple of philosophers,—(no, I mean any thing but philosophers,)-in petticoats, who are raving against the world, for not being able to make us happy; when I say it is a very pretty world, and has les meilleures dispositions possible to confer happiness, if we only choose to think so.

"And yet," said Lady Eleanor, "we are only discussing the necessity of guarding against confidence in the continuation of prosperity, and the danger to the heart of supposing the tide will never turn."

"My cloth would necessarily lead me to be with you,' ," said the Doctor, "but I am not so instructed as I might be, and you had better," added he, laughing, "consult the Miss Partridges; for I mistake, if they ever think about the tide's turning."

"The Doctor is afraid of committing himself," said Lord Cleveland; "but he is a courtier: now I, who

am none-99

Here Herbert and De Vere, and even the Marchioness herself, laughed outright; but the Earl, unabashed, proceeded, "I who am none, side with Lady Clanellan. As to the tide, we know that there is one in the affairs of men, which leads on to fortune; but

"Omitted, all the voyage of their life

Is bound in shallows and in miseries."

This is my creed, and by this be my actions governed."

"A very good creed," observed Herbert, still laughing, "for all sanguine young people, like you and Lady Clanellan.”

"Nay," said Cleveland, "I am most serious; nc did you ever know any cautious, meanspirited, shop