ther, whom she had summoned as her chaperon, shared her conversation, which he was not very eager to do, Lord Cleveland was blessed with Constance all to himself.

And a blessing he would have thought it, had she not been seized with that pensiveness which we have described as belonging to her on many occasions, and from which, on the present, the practised Cleveland knew not whether to predict good or evil. For though her charming vivacity might have delighted him more, yet he was well enough versed in woman's demeanour, to know that perfect ease, before a suspected or declared lover, showed too much of perfect indifference; and he has been known to say, when he had designs upon a woman's heart, that he preferred an appearance of downright hatred, as more capable of being influenced to what he wished, than such an indifference. He was, therefore, not absolutely in despair, when he found his fair companion rather constrained, disposed to be silent, and even to reverie, during the ride, notwithstanding all his endeavours, seconded by the plentiful encouragement of Lord Mowbray, to make himself agreeable to her. Once indeed he seemed entirely to succeed; but whether this was a good

or bad omen, he could not exactly decide; for it was when, falling in with Lord Mowbray's prognostics of his soon arriving at great power in the government, he observed, that could such a notion be more than flattery, the only thing that would make it agreeable, would be the opportunity it would give of bringing forward his friends with him, and eminently so noble a fellow as De Vere. The countenance of Constance was instantly lighted up with pleasure, and for not less than five minutes, she was more gracious to him than ever she had been before; though, the conversation changing, she again fell into thoughtfulness, only interrupted by occasional stoppages at particular prospects, where they joined the landau. Here De Vere was unmercifully rallied by the Earl, on his want of gallantry, if not his laziness, in preferring driving to riding; to all which he seemed to submit with most resigned acquiescence.

On the whole, to none of the party, except perhaps the Marchioness, did this little sally seem to give entire satisfaction: for the Marchioness knew nothing of the interests passing in the hearts of any of them, and being of a buoyant cheerful disposition herself, it required palpable reasons at least, to make her suspect

uneasiness in others. She assented, however, to Lady Constance's desire that they should return home rather sooner than they intended, in order to receive the arrivals which might be expected at the Castle; from which the Marchioness hoped, and told her inexperienced pupil to hope, much food for observation.

Upon their return, therefore, they all took their station upon the terrace, along which the state rooms of the Castle opened, and which was accessible at one end by a flight of stone steps. At the bottom of these, the visitors who approached that way without driving into the great court-yard, alighted from their carriages. The steps of the terrace were lined by a double row of orange trees and citrons, which now, in full fruit, extended themselves to the door of the guard-room, where the lady of the castle stood with her relations, to receive her guests.

In truth it was a goodly sight to see the gay company ascending in groups, and moving through odoriferous shrubs and flowers, till they arrived at the most beautiful flower of all, the youthful Constance, to whom having paid their compliments, ceremony ceased, and all was ease.

It wanted an hour to dinner, and half an hour to dressing-time; and this odd half hour was

dedicated to the reception of such guests as, coming from town, or a great distance, were to sleep at the Castle, and dress for dinner. Some of these (as no introduction was expected before dinner-time) remained below; others sought their noble hosts.

Among these, the earliest arrived, (she never failed of being in time,) was a Mrs. Oldbury, the whimsical wife of a neighbouring and reverend gentleman, who, from being bookish and indolent, preferred residing in his prebendal house at Lichfield, to either their own mansionhouse on his own estate, or a town life. Mrs. Oldbury, therefore, was one of those amiable little aristocrats of a cathedral town, to whom we formerly alluded, as being most exact in enforcing the line of separation between the provincial beau monde of the Close, and the vulgar thriving people composing the trading part of the city. Her husband was a high Tory, and as firm a political supporter of Lord Mowbray as his disposition would let him; he was, however, too indolent or too shy to attend his public days.

"Seldom at fête, 'twas such a busy life,
But duly sent his family and wife."

We have called Mrs. Oldbury whimsical, and surely she was so; for, being really as we have described her, a woman of respectable rank and consequence, who might have received as a right those attentions from the great and fashionable which really well-bred people never refuse where they are merited, she seemed to prefer suing for them as an alms, by a pertinacity of humiliation and a too obvious flattery, to which a mere dependant would hardly have submitted. She watched the eye of a person of fashion, with a sort of feline anxiety, and calculated the exact advances or retrogrades in favour which she made, or thought she had made, with those who really were, or assumed to be, higher bred than

herself.

But a very high-looking personage was presently seen mounting the steps of the terrace, much entangled with his travelling pelisse, which, to Lord Cleveland's horror, he found to be the counterpart of his own. Colour, pattern, wadding, and above all, the braided Brandenburgs, were precisely the same; only there having been a hot sun, the house-party rather wondered at its having been worn. Freshville, the new arrival, declared, however,

Mr.