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would marry her some day. Had you not made up your mind then?" "I had," he replied, "if I could get her consent."

"Had you any doubt about that ?" asked Miss Grantham, elevating her eyebrows.

"Yes! great doubts. Now I will give you the whole history;" and he began by their meeting in Paris, which he accounted for by his attempt to rescue Torchester from the gambling set into which he had fallen; he described the sort of curious interest he took at first in Maggie because she was so different from the people about her, and then because of the blending of modesty and frankness, unselfishness and individuality, which characterised her. Her unembarrassed ease with himself, as though he were completely out of the category of possible lovers; the confidence that insensibly grew up between them; the tenderness called forth by her unprotected loneliness; the admiration excited by the innate bravery, the high spirit sheathed in the velvet softness of her nature. In short, Trafford, in his every-day phraseology, gave a most interesting psychological sketch of the mutual attraction of two kindred spirits, but wisely left out of sight the wildfire which had soon, though he scarce knew when, begun to flash along the electric system of his frame at the touch of that quiet little orphan's hand, the glance of her calm sweet eyes. “I only regret I did not ask her to be my wife long ago. It seems a shame to turn to her when I have nothing left. What a strong hold the habits and opinions of one's class have over us! At first I felt such a marriage would be disastrous and ridiculous, and then the first moment I lost my self-control, the instant I overstepped the boundary of quiet friendship-Maggie shrank so visibly, and avoided me so steadily, that I often thought she really did not care for me. And now there can be no doubt that our best course is to be married right off. Where could Maggie be during a long indefinite engagement? while I should be feverish and unsettled. Matrimony is not so very costly as we shall undertake it. I daresay Maggie will not mind sharing my chambers for a year or two; at all events, I have made up my mind on the subject."

"One word, Geoffrey! Did you know that she was at Grantham last winter when you came down with me?"

"No; but I confess your description of the new secretary roused my curiosity."

"And you undertook the journey to satisfy it?"

"Not altogether. I was very pleased to be with you, Margaret.' "Do not tell me such stories, you never thought about me," interrupted Miss Grantham, petulantly. "Then Maggie has been true always. Poor dear thing, she must have been unhappy often, and I have been so cross, Geoff! she shall marry you whenever you like. I'll write to her to-day and tell her so. I shall have no patience with

her if she contradicts you, when you love her so dearly; and you doyou do not know how much you have let me see. But, Geoffrey, be constant, be kind! If hereafter you ever regret having made a foolish marriage-for it is a foolish marriage, and by-and-by, being a man, you may half resent the injury to your prospects and social standing-keep it to yourself, don't let her see it; for though I feel infinitely vexed that she ever came in your way, if I saw you change to her and break her heart-for it would break if she saw you changed-I would hate and despise you.'

"I think," said Trafford, smiling, well pleased, "you may trust her with me, and I think if there were more Margaret Granthams in the world, it would be a different and a better place."

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God knows! I am by no means sure. Now, Geoffrey, what do you want me to do?-to tell Tor and his mother?"

"No! I shall tell every one who need be acquainted, myself; but you kindly proposed writing to Maggie yourself, if you will do this, it will be a favour to us both. She is awfully nervous at the idea of universal disapprobation. Then when the general howl begins, if you will strike in with a different key it will produce a great effect, but I really only care for your own fair self. If you stand by me the rest may go."

"I will do that, Geoffrey. Are you going?"

"Yes, I have troubled you long enough."

"Oh, no, no! yet you had better go. I have twenty things to do before that horrid fête!"

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What, the fête you came up on purpose for?"

"Yes, and I must go. I have such a lovely dress."

"Well, good-bye for the present."

"Remember, I shall go to your wedding, and bring Torchester with me," cried the heiress, whose partisanship grew warmer each moment. "Dear Geoffrey, how I hope you may be happy! this is good-bye indeed!" As he bent forward to kiss her brow, she burst into tears, threw herself for an instant into his arms, and ran quickly from the

room.

There was no lovelier woman at the Marchioness of Hillshire's fête than Miss Grantham. Her cheek had a soft glow, her eyes a light and animation that gave her new beauty.

Sir Hugh Erskine pronounced her perfect-dazzling, and declared his mind to be made up, that to-morrow he would secure this exquisite creature for himself.

When, a few days after, his departure for a lengthened visit to Palestine and the East was announced, to the delight of Lord Torchester and several others, society naturally concluded that he had been rejected.

It would swell the narrative of little things to portentous length were all the doubts and self tormentings of poor Maggie, during the day succeeding Trafford's departure, set down. The greatest aggravation of her uneasiness arose from the downcast expression of Mr. Bolton's face, and the depressed quiet of his manner. She felt a criminal of the deepest dye every time she looked at him. Mrs. Berry, too, was a thorn in the flesh, with her perpetual "wonderings" what this and that person would say, her conjectures, speculations, and congratulations.

The next day, however, brought Maggie an enchanting letter, tender, bright, and full of quiet humour shining through its deeper feeling. Of course it had to be replied to, and that was enough joy to have lit up a whole week. Gradually the astonishing fact that she was engaged to Trafford, and on the point of becoming his wife, grew delightfully familiar to Maggie's mind, and its more awful aspects disappeared. Then came a welcome epistle from dear Miss Grantham, beginning, "So we are to be kinsfolk as well as acquaintance, dear Maggie," and continuing in the kindest, frankest tone to describe her own preparation for the event, and her complete consent. "You would laugh if you could have seen Torchester's mingled amazement and amusement. I cannot help imagining that on the whole he is highly delighted, though I cannot quite understand him. Of course it seems to him as it would to any one-rather mad of Geoffrey to think of marrying any one just now; but he has always been so thoroughly independent, such a mentor to Torchester and myself, that we would as soon think of dictating to majesty as advising him, and I trust in heaven all will go well and happily with you both. I must, however, admit that Lady Torchester is in a dreadful state of mind. She was here to-day on her way to see Geoffrey, to remonstrate with him, etc. Much effect she will produce! But she may worry him. So I am quite of his opinion that the sooner you are married the better. Lady Torchester and every one else must thereafter ever hold their peace; besides, I want to be at your wedding, and cannot postpone my departure for our cruise much longer."

"Aunt Grey" wrote "after her kind," and Trafford was much pleased with Uncle Grey's kindly, simple reply to his letter.

There is no more to tell. One chapter of a woman's life is finished, and into the deeper, sweeter, homelier mysteries and interests of the next, writers of English fiction seldom venture to extend their explorations—

"The reasoning of the strongest is always the best."

Trafford had his way, and his very quiet, almost private, wedding was performed in time to allow the happy couple to spend all the long vacation together at the "leafy retreat" in Wales, as that gentleman had planned.

"I little thought when we met in Paris," said the Earl to his cousin's bride, as he handed her into the Eastnor fly which was to convey them to the station, "that the first kiss you were to bestow on me would be as Geoff Trafford's wife."

"What a wonderful ending!

me, dear Lord Torchester!"

How good you have always been to

"Well, take care of Geoff, for he is a good fellow."

"How awfully happy they are!" said the Earl enviously, with a look half comic, half wistful, as he rejoined his cousin, whom he found alone in the little drawing-room.

"I wish, Margaret, we were going to follow suit."

"Dear Torchester, don't talk nonsense to me now."

"Not now! Well, when may I talk what you choose to call nonsense, eh, Margaret ?"

"Oh, I don't know! climate, perhaps."

When we are under blue skies in a southern

Random Sketches in Natural History.

A GENUINE NORWAY RAT.

MORE than a hundred and fifty years ago, when gallant men and beautiful women were intriguing to bring about the restoration of the Stuarts, this country was being rapidly invaded by a new species of Rodent. Wherever it settled itself, the familiar black rat, which a few generations before had also been an invader, gradually disappeared, being either eaten up or gradually absorbed by the stronger and more voracious race. If the Jacobites among our forefathers were unfortunate in their adherence to the ancient line of kings, and were doomed to suffer in purse and person for their loyalty, they took their revenge in many a humorous sally at the expense of the usurpers, as the house of Hanover were then designated by the Jacobites and their supporters. A Jacobite wag gravely associated the invasion of the country by the brown rat with the coming of our first Hanoverian monarch, and dubbed the long-tailed and whiskered freebooter who took possession of lodgings and victuals without asking "by your leave," the Hanoverian rat. What was the pleasantry of a few in a generation became the belief of the many, and within the past quarter of a century we have known more than one aged person, who could speak of "the forty-five" at second band, who religiously believed that the first brown rat ever seen in these islands came across in the ship which brought the new dynasty to England.

Another section of the public believed that the brown rat came from Norway, and to this day, among the vulgar, it is spoken of as the Norway rat. It is needless to tell our readers that neither of these titles was correct, as it has long been established that the brown rat hails from the far East--from the cradle of the human Bace, in Asia Minor, whence it has accompanied man in all his wanderings over the earth, sharing his poverty and his affluence; eating contentedly of the humble provender of the poor, and levying a toll on the luxuries of nobles and of kings.

The Norway rat, of which we wish to say a few words, is THE LEMMING, & species of the mouse tribe, somewhat smaller than the guinea pig, to which in form it bears a considerable resemblance, only the head and body are flatter. Its length is about six inches, of which the short stump of a tail forms half an inch. It is black in colour, mottled with tawny spots, which vary in their disposition in different individuals, and the belly is white, with a slight tinge of

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