lutely necessary. It might indeed be proper that her attachment to him should not be too

apparent till he was firmly established in grace, seeing that his merit was the only thing that could be put in the scale against the finest glebe in the county; but then could she not appear sufficiently careless about him without being so unusually complaisant to such a set of louts-If his presence made her happy, there was no necessity to give them licence to presume to be happy likewise; and, besides, she might surely find some moments for revisiting her grotto, instead of uniformly turning from his hasty whisper, with "It is better not." It was not so formerly, and it was very reasonable to suppose that her three years' constancy had been sustained by some ideal picture of what he might turn out, in which she was now disappointed. He could not sleep. His restless fancy continually beheld her bright eyes looking tenderness upon the wooden face of Sir Lubin. He turned to the other side, and was haunted by a legion of young Lubins, who smiled upon him with Sibyl's looks till he almost groaned aloud. In

the morning he came down with a hag-ridden countenance, which made people wonder what was the matter with him, and Sibyl asked him, with a look of ineffable archness, whether he was experiencing a return of his headaches.

Time rolled on very disagreeably. The Childe grew every day more pale and popular: the old ladies gave him more advice, and the old lord gave him more wine, and Sibyl grew mortified at his mistrust, and Sir Lubin grew afraid of his frown, and one half of the hall could not help being sorry, and the other half were obliged to be civil. Ajax and Ulysses had stepped into each other's shoes, and Sibyl, to keep the peace, was obliged to accede to an interview in her little boudoir.

It was a fine honey-dropping afternoon. The sweet south was murmuring through the lattice amongst the strings of the guitar, and the golden fish were sporting till they almost flung themselves out of their crystal globe: it was just the hour for every thing to be sweet and harmonious-but Sibyl was somewhat vexed and the Childe was somewhat angry. He was much obliged to her for meeting him, but he

feared that he was taking her from more agreeable occupations; and he was, moreover, alarmed lest her other visiters should want some one to amuse them. He merely wished to ask if she had any commands to his family, for whom it was time that he should think of setting out; and when he had obtained them he would no longer trespass upon her condescension. Sibyl leant her cheek upon her hand, and regarded him patiently till he had done. My commands," she gravely said, " are of a confidential nature, and I cannot speak them if you sit so far off."

As she tendered her little hand, her features broke through their mock ceremony into a half smile, and there was an enchantment about her which could not be withstood.

"Sibyl," he exclaimed, "why have you taken such pains to torment me ?"

"And why have you so ill attended to the injunctions which I gave you?"

"Ill!-Heaven and earth! Have I not laboured to be agreeable till my head is turned topsy-turvy?"

“Oh, yes; and hind-side before, as well, for

it is any thing but right. But did I tell you to pursue this laudable work with fuming and frowning, and doubting and desperation, till I was in an agony lest you should die of your exertions, and leave me to wear the willow?"

The cavalier stated his provocation with much eloquence.

"Dear Sibyl," he continued, "I have passed a sufficient ordeal. If I really possess your love, let me declare mine at once, and send these barbarians about their business."

"Or rather be sent about your own, if you have any; for you cannot suppose that the specimen which you have given of your patient disposition is likely to have told very much in your favour."

"Then why not teach them the presumption of their hopes, and tell them that you despise them?

"Because they are my father's friends, and because, whatever their hopes may be, they will probably wait for encouragement before they afford me an opportunity of giving my opinion thereupon."

"But has there been any necessity to give

them so much more of your time-so many more of your smiles-than you have bestowed upon me?"

"And is it you who ask me this question ?— Oh!-is it possible to mete out attentions to those we love with the same indifference which we use towards the rest of the world?-Would nothing, do you think-no tell-tale countenance-no treacherous accent, betray the secret which it is our interest to maintain? Unkind to make poor Sibyl's pride confess so much!"

The cavalier did not know whether he ought to feel quite convinced. He counted the rings upon the fingers, which were still locked in his own, three times over.

"Sibyl," he at last said, "I cannot bear them to triumph over me, even in their own bright fancies. If you are sincere with me, let us anticipate the slow events of time-let us seek happiness by the readiest means—and, trust me, if it is difficult to obtain consent to our wishes, you are too dear to despair of pardon for having acted without it.”

"And you would have me fly with you?"