cally. Every great artist, he said, had need of solitude to perfectionate his works.

But we are advancing matters in the fulness of our love and respect for Monsieur Mirobolant, and bringing him prematurely on the stage. The Chevalier Strong had a hand in the engagement of all the London domestics, and, indeed, seemed to be the master of the house. There were those among them who said he was the house-steward, only he dined with the family. Howbeit, he knew how to make himself respected, and two of by no means the least comfortable rooms of the house were assigned to his particular use.

He was walking upon the terrace finally upon the eventful day, when, amidst an immense jangling of bells from Clavering Church, where the flag was flying, an open carriage, and one of those travelling chariots or family arks, which only English philoprogenitiveness could invent, drove rapidly with foaming horses through the Park gates, and up to the steps of the Hall. The two battans of the sculptured door flew open. Two superior officers in black, the large and melancholy gentlemen, now in livery with their hair in powder, the country menials engaged to aid them, were in waiting in the hall, and bowed like tall elms when autumn winds wail in the park. Through this avenue passed Sir Francis Clavering with a most unmoved face: Lady Clavering, with a pair of bright black eyes, and a good-humoured countenance, which waggled and nodded very graciously Master Francis Clavering, who was holding his mamma's skirt (and who stopped the procession to look at the largest footman, whose appearance seemed to strike the young gentleman), and Miss Blandy, governess to Master Francis, and Miss Amory, her Ladyship's daughter, giving her arm to Captain Strong. It was summer, but fires of welcome were crackling in the great hall chimney, and in the rooms which the family were to occupy.

:

Monsieur Mirobolant had looked at the procession from one of the lime-trees in the avenue. "Elle est là," he said, laying his jewelled hand on his richly-embroidered velvet waistcoat with glass buttons, "Je t'ai vue; je te bénis, O ma sylphide, O mon ange! and he dived into the thicket, and made his way back to his furnaces and saucepans.

The next Sunday the same party which had just made its appearance at Clavering Park, came and publicly took possession of the ancient pew in the church, where so many of the Baronet's ancestors had prayed, and were now kneeling in effigy. There was such a run to see the new folks, that the Low Church was deserted, to the disgust of its pastor; and as the state barouche, with the greys and coachman in silver wig, and solemn footmen, drew up at the old churchyard gate, there was such a crowd assembled there as

had not been seen for many a long day. Captain Strong knew everybody, and saluted for all the company. The country people vowed my lady was not handsome, to be sure, but pronounced her to be uncommon fine dressed, as indeed she was with the finest of shawls, the finest of pelisses, the brilliantest of bonnets and wreaths, and a power of rings, cameos, brooches, chains, bangles, and other nameless gimcracks; and ribbons of every breadth and colour of the rainbow flaming on her person. Miss Amory appeared meek in dove-colour, like a vestal virgin-while Master Francis was in the costume then prevalent of Rob Roy Macgregor, a celebrated Highland outlaw. The Baronet was not more animated than ordinarily— there was a happy vacuity about him which enabled him to face a dinner, a death, a church, a marriage, with the same indifferent

ease.

A pew for the Clavering servants was filled by these domestics, and the enraptured congregation saw the gentlemen from London with "vlower on their heeds," and the miraculous coachman with his silver wig, take their places in that pew so soon as his horses were put up at the Clavering Arms.

In the course of the service, Master Francis began to make such a yelling in the pew, that Frederic, the tallest of the footmen, was beckoned by his master, and rose and went and carried out Master Francis, who roared and beat him on the head, so that the powder flew round about, like clouds of incense. Nor was he pacified until placed on the box of the carriage, where he played at horses with John's whip.

"You see the little beggar's never been to church before, Miss Bell," the Baronet drawled out to a young lady who was visiting him; "no wonder he should make a row: I don't go in town neither, but I think it's right in the country to give a good example-and that sort of thing."

Miss Bell laughed and said, "The little boy had not given a particularly good example."

"Gad, I don't know," said the Baronet. neither. Whenever he wants a thing, Frank whenever he cwies he gets it."

"It ain't so bad, always cwies, and

Here the child in question began to howl for a dish of sweetmeats on the luncheon table, and making a lunge across the tablecloth, upset a glass of wine over the best waistcoat of one of the guests present, Mr. Arthur Pendennis, who was greatly annoyed at being made to look foolish, and at having his spotless cambric shirt front blotched with wine.

"We do spoil him so," said Lady Clavering to Mrs. Pendennis, fondly gazing at the cherub, whose hands and face were now frothed

over with the species of lather which is inserted in the confection called meringues à la crême.

"Gad, I was quite wight," said the Baronet.

and he has got it, you see.

"He has cwied, Go it, Fwank, old boy."

"Sir Francis is a very judicious parent," Miss Amory whispered. "Don't you think so, Miss Bell? I sha'n't call you Miss Bell-I shall call you Laura. I admired you so at church. Your robe was not well made, nor your bonnet very fresh. But you have such beautiful grey eyes, and such a lovely tint."

He is uneasy de

"Thank you," said Miss Bell, laughing. "Your cousin is handsome, and thinks so. sa personne. He has not seen the world yet. Has he genius? Has he suffered? A lady, a little woman in a rumpled satin and velvet shoes-a Miss Pybus-came here, and said he has suffered. I, too, have suffered, and you, Laura, has your heart ever been touched?"

Laura said "No!" but perhaps blushed a little at the idea or the question, so that the other said

"Ah, Laura! I see it all. It is the beau cousin. everything. I already love you as a sister."

Tell me

"You are very kind," said Miss Bell, smiling, "and—and it must be owned that it is a very sudden attachment."

"All attachments are so. It is electricity-spontaneity. It is instantaneous. I knew I should love you from the moment I saw you. Do you not feel it yourself?"

"Not yet," said Laura; "but I dare say I shall if I try.”
"Call me by my name, then."

"But I don't know it," Laura cried out.

'My name is Blanche-isn't it a pretty name? Call me by it."

"Blanche-it is very pretty indeed."

"And while mamma talks with that kind-looking lady-what relation is she to you? She must have been pretty once, but is rather passée; she is not well gantée, but she has a pretty handand while mamma talks to her, come with me to my own room, -my own, own room. It's a darling room, though that horrid creature, Captain Strong, did arrange it. Are you épris of him? He says you are, but I know better; it is the beau cousin. Yes -il a de beaux yeux. Je n'aime pas les blonds, ordinairement. Car je suis blonde, moi-je suis Blanche et blonde,”—and she looked at her face and made a moue in the glass; and never stopped for Laura's answer to the questions which she had put. and like a sylph. She had fair hair with

Blanche was fair green reflections in it.

But she had dark eyebrows. She had long