Oh, Lewis," cried Rosina, in terror, part real and part affected, you positively shall not have that Provence rose ! it is the only one I have. Any other that you will, moss, damask, or China."

"With all my heart," said Lewis; "a rose, gathered by myself, would do only to smell twice or thrice and throw over the hedge; whereas one presented by you will have an extrinsic value."

"It is a Spanish compliment you know, to give a rose to a stranger."

"Are you resolved to call me one ?"

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'Well, which colour will you have?"

"The colour of the lips of a young lady of my acquaintance-no; not that-it is too pale."

"How can I tell what colour you mean?" said Rosina, stooping over her roses; "will this do?"

"Yes," said he softly; taking the rose, and playfully approaching it to her lips. Rosina hastily turned away and nearly ran against Mr. Huntley, who was returning with her replenished watering-pot.

"Are you giving away flowers, Miss Rosina, like another Perdita ?" said he. "I am sure I have earned one."

Mr.

"No, no," said Lewis, laughing, "they are all for me." "How can you say so?" said Rosina scornfully. Huntley has earned one very fairly. Here, Mr. Huntley, is a perfect beauty! You deserve one for filling my wateringpot."

"This is lovely enough to inspire a troubadour," said Huntley; and he immediately began to hum

"Oh! my love is like the red, red rose !"

His balmy voice reached the party under the walnut-tree; Mr. Russell called out to beg he would "go on ;" and laughing, "as though he scorned himself for singing," Huntley continued with more emphasis, though still in an apparently careless sotto voce manner, to run through the second verse of the ballad. No woman, musical enough to appreciate simple melody, and youthful enough to believe in the possibility of her having excited interest in the young painter's heart, could have listened unmoved to his enunciation of

"And I will love thee still, my dear,
Till the sands of life are run,"

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Its pathos was attested by a gentle sigh from the bosom of each of the younger ladies; and Lewis with an impatient suspiration wished fate had enabled him to sing as well; and then quieted himself by doubting whether it were a manly accomplishment. Rosina, after having with unusual benevolence, watered Hannah's flowers as well as her quite tired but in unexhausted spirits, to rest beneath the walown, returned nut-tree. The moon presently rose brightly from behind the hills, and Mrs. Wellford thought it time to return to the house. This movement was received by the gentlemen as a hint to wish good evening, which they accordingly did, after waiting to see the moon enter a fleecy cloud, and to make rival quotations from Milton, Byron, and Pope. The last good-night" was said and smiled; Lewis still lingered to utter more last words while Mr. Russell led the way up the lane and called Huntley's attention to the glow-worms sparkling on the banks.

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What an entertaining day this has been !" exclaimed Rosina, as she laid her head upon her pillow.

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Lewis's opinion of it had not been very dissimilar. "What a smile Rosina Wellford has !" exclaimed he abruptly, after Huntley had quitted them. She is so much altered since I last saw her that I should scarcely have known her again. As for her mind, that is altered too; however, I have watched its developement in her letters-"

"What!" exclaimed Mr. Russell with surprise, “did you correspond?"

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which I often saw, Why, they were livvillage, not a crea

No, no; her letters to Marianne, though without Rosina's guessing it. ing pictures? Not a corner of this ture who inhabits it, not a tea-party at Lady Worral's, or a visit from you, Russell," added he laughing, "that was not recorded."

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“I have often thought," said Mr. Russell rather gravely, 'that Rosina was inclined to be satyrical, but I did not imagine she allowed her liveliness to carry her these lengths."

"But not a word of ill-nature in them," interposed Lewis. They were faultless in that respect; and the ardent affection they discovered towards her mother and sister, I have this evening seen displayed with my own eyes. elder sister too; she reminds one of Milton's description I like the of melancholy, though there is nothing melancholy about her. She seems

'devout and pure,

Sober, steadfast, and demure."

"Hannah's character deserves all those epithets except the last," said Mr. Russell, "which in common parlance stands for a sort of affected modesty, whereas hers is completely woven into her mind, and is too intrinsic to be worn as a mere ornament. Rosina has more natural vanity-"

'She has more to be vain of," observed Lewis.

"And often says, does, and fancies things," continued Mr. Russell," which would never enter Hannah's imagination; but her innocence of mind and natural vivacity of disposition, form, I think, her best apologists; and as her experience and power of reflection increase, she will, if she has sufficient strength of mind to correct her little foibles, become a very enchanting character."

"I perfectly agree with you!" cried Lewis with energy; "yes, yes, she will, as you say, become an enchanting character; and I hate a perfect woman!"

CHAPTER XIII.

NUT CRACKING.

THIS had been a day of unusual excitement at the White Cottage; nor did it seem likely that events would very soon return to their former sleepy course. Huntley's picture and Lewis Pennington's arrival formed ample subject for conversation at Mrs. Wellford's breakfast table the ensuing morning; and before eleven o'clock, the artist came to request his sitters to resume their attitudes. Lewis soon arrived with his mother's letter, and was delighted to watch Huntley's progress; and in the course of the afternoon, Matthew and Sain Good looked in to inquire what was going on.

Matthew laughed heartily at what he called his sisters, masquerade dresses, and then entered into fluent conversation with Lewis Pennington, who pleased him exceedingly. Sam was meanwhile employed in asking Huntley a thousand absurd questions, and paying Rosina foolish compliments, at length the young men set out on their walk, and Lewis was with some difficulty persuaded by Matthew to accompany them. The painting scheme completely interrupted the usual routine of feminine occupation. Mr. Russell and the Goods

were eager to look on and give their opinion, so that, for the first week, Mrs. Wellford's garden was a perpetual rendezvous, and Huntley found his progress greatly impeded by the admiration, criticism, and small talk of the by-standers. The eharm of variety, however, he knew would soon cease, and than he should be left in comparative quiet. Till that coveted period arrived, he postponed the luxury of painting Hannah's portrait, and occupied himself with his study of Rosina. This flattered her imagination, and awoke both the interest and jealousy of Lewis, who at first was angry with him for not doing justice to her prettiness, and then, for dwelling, as he fancied, enamoured on her features.

Lewis Pennington's character was not such as one sees every day. His disposition was ardently affectionate, his imagination lively, and his mind tinctured with a spice of romance, which, united to manners of boyish gaiety and sincerity, was rather apt to make the sedate and cautious give him less credit for strength of judgment and principle than he really deserved, while it remarkably endeared him to those by whom he was intimately known. To hint that he came to Summerfield on purpose to fall in love with Rosina Wellford, would ruin my hero irreparably in the opinion of his judges, although such a result might appear the natural and proper consequence of his visit. The motives which had actuated him, however, were thoroughly characteristic of himself.

Rosina's childish beauty had had as little effect as might have been expected on his boyish imagination; but in after years, his parents' partial reminiscences of her, and the snatches of her clever letters which Marianne occasionally read aloud for the Doctor's amusement, kept alive his remembrance of her, and excited some degree of curiosity to know whether this lively and secluded young beauty were all that his imagination pictured. Summerfield was thought of by Lewis as a little nest of loveliness, where the trees were greener and the air sweeter than any where else; and he could not help considering himself the originator of the happiness which breathed throughout Rosina's letters, since he it was he who had contrived the scheme of her elopement from Park-Place, an achievement, which, in spite of the disgrace it had entailed on himself, he always remembered with amazing satisfaction. He resolved that if he should ever make a tour through the western counties of England, he would take Summerfield in his way; and on quitting college, idleness soon gave a substantial form to the plan which had once or twice floated

VOL. I.-I.

through his brain. He told his father he should like to unbend his mind and recruit his health by a little excursion through some of the neighbouring counties, and that he thought he might as well begin by spending a week or ten days with that honest fellow, Russell. Dr. Pennington looked at his blithe, arch countenance and elastic figure, and could see no ravages made either by sickness or over-study; however, he had no objection to the boy's having a little change, and was well convinced he could learn no harm of Mr. Russell. So, on a good horse, and with a fifty pound note in his pocket, Lewis started for Summerfield.

Here he found himself so exceedingly comfortable, that he thought, for the present, the western counties might take care of themselves. Mr. Russell was a most hospitable host, with enough love of humour to relish all Lewis's pleasantries, and of indulgence to sympathize in much of his romance. Their breakfasts and dinners were discussed with the utmost harmony for the rest of the day, Mr. Russell was quite as much at liberty as ever, to write in his study or visit his parishoners; for Lewis either rode about the country or lounged the sultry hours away at Mrs. Wellford's. Here he was always sure of smiles, and a little coquetry into the bargain.

Rosina could not be prevailed on to acknowledge the contents of the postscript which she had torn off Marianne Pennington's letter before she gave it to her mother and sister. That it contained some laughing innuendo concerning Lewis was rendered as probable from her confusion as from the enthusiasm and romance which made Marianne so closely resemble her brother. If Marianne, however, had possessed as much judgment as kindness, she would have left the postscript unwritten; since Rosina, induced by it to fancy Lewis a lover from the outset, shrank from his advances with a feeling of consciousness, which not even her inclination to coquetry could overcome. Her vanity made her undoubtful of the effect of her charms; her modesty made her shrink, even while she longed for admiration, from the language of love; and thus, there were as many pretty blushings, and starts, and retreats, and trepidations, as a mischievous bystander could desire for amusement. Lewis was puzzled, attracted, and deceived; he became interested in the pursuit, and little doubtful of success. Yet he was not without his vexations.

He was at first uncommonly charmed with the daily sittings under the walnut-tree, which afforded such opportunity for pleasant idling, and looking to and fro between the picture