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Yes, that is-much as usual. Why do you ask?" Oh, I do not know.-He seems more at home here than he did-"

Well-and in proportion as our acquaintance improves, is that not natural ?"

Oh! very natural, I dare say!" said Rosina, laughing, as she ran down-stairs.

The walk was as pleasant as walks generally are, when a gentleman dividing two ladies pays considerably more attention to one than the other. Rosina knew that this would often be the case now, and was resigned. She could remark without bitterness of feeling, Hannah's softly smiling countenance and downcast eyes. Rosina had often marvelled how Hannah would look if she should ever be in love, or whether she were capable of ever falling in love at all. The doubt was now answered, and it seemed to her that Hannah looked and spoke exactly as might have been foreseen by any one who had had opportunities of judging of her character.

On their return, they fell in with Mr. Russell. He smiled, but with a certain degree of gravity as he spoke to them. Mr. Russell has not lost his austere looks yet, thought Rosina; am I still out of his good graces?

CHAPTER XXIV.

FRATERNAL CONFIDENCES.

THE next post brought her the following letter from Marianne Pennington.

Oh, Rosina! I am mortified and angry with you! I need not say why, for though Lewis will not speak honestly to me, I can guess from his manner at much that has passed at Summerfield. He came home three days ago, and seems as glad to see us as usual. The only suspicious circumstance was his extreme guardedness in neither saying too much or too little, and when you consider Lewis's character, you will grant that this was enough to set our minds at work. When we asked him if he had had a pleasant excursion, he said ' very,' and began to praise the roads and scenery. Papa

told him that would not do that a man who had lived a month in a country village must have characters as well as roads to talk about. He then began to speak of Mr. Russell, of your mother, of your brother, your sister,-every one, in short, except yourself; and when I asked him-pray do not blush,-whether you were a pretty girl, he replied 'yes-so they are both.' He gave a half sigh, but no more could Sophy and I sift out of him, except yes, yes, yes, when we asked if you could do this, that, or the other; and when he began to play with the children, and talk absurd French to Mademoiselle Mackau, we knew the case was hopeless for that night. Next morning, to our surprise and vexation, he began to talk of his travels, and told my father that instead of waiting till next spring, he had been thinking he might as well spend the approaching winter in Germany. You know Lewis has always had a fancy for rambling, and used to frighten mamma when he was a boy, by declaring that as soon as he was of age he should set off to discover the source of the Niger. Since he has grown older, the Niger scheme has passed off, and mamma is well content to hear him talk of Germany and Italy as a distant prospect; but this sudden idea alarmed us all, with the exception of my father. To-day they have been seriously talking on the subject, and I really believe it will end in his going to Heidelberg. Oh, Rosina ! this is all owing to you! I am convinced of it. Lewis was growing out of his boyish whims, and if it had not been for a disappointment, would have cared as little for Heidelberg as for the Troglodytes; and now, what a brother we shall lose! Sophy and I are at the last gasp of despair; but I am the most to be pitied, for I have always been his chosen companion and confidante. Three years ago, when he fancied himself in love with a Miss Edgar (who, by the by, is nearly twice his age, I was made the partaker of all his little triumphs and vexations; therefore now, when I suspect there is some real feeling excited, it is doubly mortifying that he should be so close. That my suspicions are not quite without foundation, I am certain, from what passed this morning; for as he was lounging upon a sofa, reading or pretending to read, I came on him by surprise, and said, Come, dear Lewis, now that we are quite by ourselves, tell me all about it.' About what, Miss Marianne?' said he, starting and colouring. 'Oh!' said I, I am sure you would not be in this mighty hurry to set off for Germany, if there were not some disappointment in the case.' 'Disappointment! nonsense!' cried Lewis, forcing a

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laugh, 'you girls always fancy that love must be the prime-mover of all our actions. I'll tell you what, Marianne-I don't think either you or I shall ever marry; so some of these days we'll set up housekeeping together, and have our books, and our horses, and our garden, and be the happiest old bachelor and old maid that ever lived.' With these words he walked off, and set out on a long ride from which he has not yet returned, leaving me convinced that he or you might clear up a good deal of mystery if you chose. Have you quarrelled, Rosina? Do tell me, if that is the case-Lewis has the sweetest disposition in the world, but he is a little warm sometimes, and he may have offended you, or you may have unintentionally offended him. We quarrelled once, but we soon made it up again and were better friends than ever afterwards; and so may you still be, if you choose.

"I suppose you know that your aunt Diana is lying dangerously ill at Dover. Mr. Curtis was summoned by express yesterday to attend her. I wish her money would go to you instead of to Mrs. Parkinson, who does not want it. What a difference it would make to us if you lived at Park-Place! The house is shut up now, and we shall not be much gayer when your aunt and uncle return. We are poorly off for neighbours, it must be confessed: however, thank goodness, we are completely independent of them; and papa and I pursue our study of natural history with unabating ardour. Isabella is still with the Ponsonbys at Hastings, but she will return to us in a fortnight. Mamma desires to be affectionately remembered to Mrs. Wellford; and Sophy unites in love and good wishes to you with your always affectionate

"MARIANNE PENNINGTON."

Rosina's feelings, on reading this letter, bordered on regret. "Certainly it would have been better," thought she, with a sigh, "if neither Lewis nor I had been quite so precipitate. He had a thousand good qualities, it must be confessed, and 1 begin to doubt whether there are many people either so amiable or so entertaining. He had good principles too-I sometimes doubt whether Mr. Huntley's principles are very firm-and if Lewis could not sing, it is not quite certain that Mr. Huntley can dance. Genius is a very fine thing; but so is good temper, and it is to be doubted whether, if Mr. Hunt ley's temper were tried, it would prove quite equal to Lewis's,

If Hannah, for instance, were to teaze him as I used to teaze Lewis! And even as to genius,-Lewis certainly had wit. I can recollect two or three rather clever things of his saying One day, I remember hearing him say to Matthew, Many people fancy themselves capable of forgiving their enemies, who find it mighty hard to forgive their friends.' And another time, he said that Mr. Huntley would have to answer for the sin of making him love the inconstant Orpah better than the constant Ruth, and that though Ruth was crossing the desert, there could be no desert where there was Orpah."

Rosina sighed again, and folded up her letter. She shrank from the task of answering it, and resolved to postpone the duty for the present. As it was impossible to shew the letter to her mother and sister, she had some doubt whether it would not be as well to say nothing of having received it: here, however, the matter did not rest in her own hands, for Mrs. Wellford happened to have seen the postman at the gate. Rosina said as carelessly as she could, that she was not quite at liberty to tell what Marianne had written about, and no more questions were asked, though she teazed herself by wondering how much was suspected. She mentioned her aunt Diana's illness, and it was well she did, for the next post brought Mrs. Wellford a letter from Mr. Parkinson, announcing Mrs. Diana's death. The letter was brief and rather stiff; in the course of ten days, however, it was followed by a second, much more cordially worded, stating that the bulk of Mrs. Diana's property had, as was expected, been left to her eldest niece, but that Mrs. Wellford had a legacy of eight hundred pounds. Never was legacy more opportune: Harry was now old enough to leave school, and it was high time for Matthew to visit the London hospitals. Here were funds sufficient to supply their approaching expenses, and such a world of anxiety was removed from Mrs. Wellford's mind, that she did not breathe a single impatient sigh at the difference between her sister's circumstances and her own.

Huntley found himself excluded from the cottage during the interval between Mrs. Diana's death and her burial. He was surprised at the vacuum thus occasioned in his mind, and endeavoured to cheat the consciousness of it by longer extended rambles than he had been of late in the habit of taking, and by occasionally bestowing his idleness on Mr. Russell, of whom he had lately seen little. Mr. Russell did not receive him with coldness, but there was more penetration exerted, less inclination to take Huntley's opinions on trust than formerly,

Huntley found himself engaged in rather deep ethical discussions, where, conscious of his own want of power, he endeavoured to dazzle by allusion and metaphor rather than by boldly encountering his antagonist, or more frequently, let Mr. Russell have his own way after a little faint opposition, secretly wearied with the subject and wishing to lure him back to belles-lettres. To his joy, he was soon re-admitted at the White Cottage, and the sight of Hannah in her mourning, recompensed him for all the ennui of his banishment. But he had, for the present, lost the first place in Hannah's thoughts. Mr. Good had advised Matthew's going to town without loss of time; Matthew himself wished it; and preparations for his journey and grief at the prospect of the separation engrossed the minds of his mother and sisters. Rosina, sanguine as was her own disposition, and dazzled by the prospect of whatever was lively or new, had the inconsistency to wonder and be a little hurt at her brother's delight at leaving Summerfield, and to think him rather unfeeling. On the evening before his journey, however, Matthew came to drink tea with his family; and while his mother and Hannah were packing up his linen, he asked Rosina to put on her bonnet and take a turn with him in the lane. She found her arm pressed rather tightly to his side, though he began by whistling a bar or two of Cherry Ripe.

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Well," said he, with a smothered sigh, "I shall not be here to-morrow evening, Rosy; nor the next, nor the next. It will be a good while before we shall meet again, and how many things may happen in the mean time! Shall I find you all such as I left you? That is more than you can tell, or I either. I wonder if this Huntley is to be my brother-in-law, after all, or not."

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Do you wish he should be, Matthew?"

Upon my honour, Rosy, I can hardly tell you. At one time I fancied that it was you and he that were in love with each other, and then I could not bear him. But now, somehow

"Well ?"

"Now, somehow, that he is evidently attached to Hannah and that she is pleased with him, I seem to see his character in a different light. There appears to be more sincerity, more depth of feeling about him than I thought there was at first And yet, Rosy, in spite of his wit and genius, and-all that,I cannot feel quite cordial towards him. I cannot fancy that he is worthy of Hannah."