rightly by him. But she was somewhat consoled by her father's great delight at her engagement-a delight, to do him justice, which proceeded more from his strong sense of Mr. Hartwell's worth than from any sordid motive. Mrs. Protheroe had already begun to amuse herself with speculations on the amount of Lucy's trousseau, and calculations as to how much they could possibly contrive to spend on that and the wedding without quite ruining themselves. Mr. Hartwell returned punctually at the end of the specified fortnight, and remained with them a month; and during that time, Lucy, who had no other attachment to interfere with her growing regard for him, became much more reconciled to her lot in life, and even began to look upon herself as a fortunate woman in being blessed with so devoted a lover.

There was one subject, however, in which their difference of opinion was a source of real distress to Mr. Hartwell, and that subject was religion. His own views were particularly strong and decided; and it is only due to him to say that his faith was the standard of his practice; and that, notwithstanding what many would have termed his extraordinary strictness with respect to his own conduct, he possessed a large share of that charity which thinketh no evil, and makes every allowance for the faults and weaknesses of others. And so we generally find that those who live most truly and steadily with the one object before their eyes, of doing their duty in great things and in small, are ever the most really merciful towards others; partly, because charity holds a foremost place in the hearts of the best and wisest ; and partly, perhaps, because their greater knowledge of themselves has given them a deeper insight into their own infirmity and need of forgiveness. But Mr. Hartwell could probably have made more excuses for the faults of a stranger than for those of his beloved Lucy; and when he heard her, the first Sunday they passed together after their engagement, give a very decided yawn after breakfast, and say that she did not feel much disposed to go to church that morning, he turned round to her, and asked, as she thought sternly, whether she was unwell?

"Oh, no!" she answered; "but I am rather cold, and you know it is a good half-mile or more to church, and I can read at home instead. Won't you stay with me?"

"Certainly not; and you will distress me very much if you do not accompany me."

"Oh! then, I will go, by all means," she replied, with great good-humour; and she left the room to prepare. But Lucy always took some time in adorning herself on a Sunday, the only day on which she was at all likely to be seen; and, before she was nearly ready, she heard the voice of Mr. Hartwell on the stairs, calling out to her that it was quite time to set off. So she made haste, according to her sense of the term; but when she went down to the drawing-room, where her father was reading the newspaper, and her mother reclining on the sofa, she found Mr. Hartwell pacing up and down the room, evidently annoyed at her not having been ready sooner.

"We have not a minute to spare, Lucy," he said; is, I am afraid we shall be very late."

66 as it "Indeed, I think not," she answered; "besides, if we are a little late, it does not signify. You know it is only the clergyman and clerk, and the school children, who are obliged to be so very punctual."

As they walked rapidly along, Lucy upbraided Mr. Hartwell with being so silent and so cross, after she had come to church on purpose to please him. He tried to explain to her that that was not the motive which ought to take her to the House of God, and that he had been exceedingly pained and grieved at what had occurred since breakfast. Lucy did not clearly understand what he meant, but was inclined to be a little angry; however, as they had now reached the church door, all further discussion was necessarily suspended. It was the first time they had been at church together; for, during Mr. Hartwell's former visit, the weather had been really such as to preclude Lucy, who was not very strong, from going. Here she annoyed him again, by neither kneeling, nor repeating the responses, and giving other small tokens of her attention being little fixed upon the service or the sermon. For the latter there might be some excuse; as the preaching of their clergyman, Mr. Lewis, was of the lowest order, and delivered in a way that made his words almost as inaudible as their meaning would probably have been unintelligible. Mr. Lewis did not hunt, shoot, nor go to balls, and yet he managed to neglect his parish more effectually than if he had been guilty of all three. He had

called twice on the Protheroes, who occasionally on Sundays, when it was neither too hot nor too cold, made their appearance at church once in the day-that is to say, Mr. Protheroe and his daughter did; for Mrs. Protheroe had so long declared herself unequal to the exertion, that it never occurred to any one to think of her joining in the public worship of her Maker.

In the afternoon Mr. Hartwell asked Lucy to accompany him again, but this she said she was too tired to do; and besides, as to going to church more than once in the day, the notion seemed to her quite preposterous.

It will readily be believed that, to a man of Mr. Hartwell's very serious views and feelings, these ideas on the part of his future wife were grievous indeed; and he laboured hard during that month to eradicate them, and to implant principles in accordance with his own. Had he made or rather suffered himself to show her that he made-a little more allowance for her extreme youth and defective education, he would probably have met with greater success; as it was, Lucy could not but think him often harsh and stern, and fidgety about trifles; and though she was not altogether untouched by his arguments, or by the earnestness with which they were delivered, she generally yielded, more from the wish to please, and to avoid disputing, than from any firm or settled conviction of the importance and the necessity of attending to what he said. So he grew in her esteem more than in her affection; and she learned to fear his censure without deeming herself fully deserving of it. Like Lord Tiutern, Mr. Hartwell erred in unconsciously expecting perfection in the woman he loved; but, unlike him, he was not so dazzled and captivated as to be blinded to her faults; on the contrary, as his love for Lucy strengthened, if possible, from day to day, from day to day he became more keenly alive to her least error or failing. He was injudicious in insisting on some trifles of no real moment, when he had better have endeavoured only to imbue her with the high principle which would have enabled her to form a right judgment for herself in these smaller matters. But, with all this, he was a tender and fond lover, anticipating her lightest wish or desire, whenever he could do so conscientiously; most careful of her health, which was far from being robust; and anxious to spare her any unnecessary trouble

or fatigue. He made her some very handsome presents, which alone redeemed him in the eyes of Mrs. Protheroe from the charge of being a madman or an enthusiast, so little could she understand his character or ideas. However, she trusted to Lucy's influence to banish all this nonsense when once they were united, and to restore him to his right

senses.

CHAPTER XIII.

ABOUT six weeks after Lucy's engagement, she was attacked by a cold and cough, which, though they seemed trifling in themselves, ought not to have been neglected in one whose chest was always disposed to be delicate, and would have been carefully attended to if Mr. Hartwell had been with her. But unfortunately for her, both in the immediate results of such neglect, and in those which lay beyond, and which no human wisdom could have foreseen, her ailments were suffered to take their own course; and the consequence was, that, on returning one afternoon in a bitter March wind from a walk to the neighbouring town, she felt so poorly as to be obliged to go to bed, and the next day was seriously ill with a violent attack of inflammation. Medical assistance was summoned, and Mr. Hartwell written to; but he was at that time in a distant part of England, and the attack, from its very violence, was one which must decide her fate before he could arrive. But youth and a skilful doctor were on her side; and when Mr. Hartwell alighted at the cottage-gate, having travelled with more expedition than even Mr. Protheroe had supposed possible, he had the inexpressible happiness of being assured that his beloved Lucy's illness had taken a favourable turn, and that she was pronounced to be out of any immediate danger. The medical man had dreaded the effect of the first meetin with Mr. Hartwell on Lucy's weakened frame; but, he known how calmly she received him, and how tr composed was her pleasure at seeing him, he

feared any thing like a relapse on paying

morning. He found her steadily pre continued to do; but the spring thr and her severe illness had left a