a good deal of trepidation, and downcast eyes, Lady Millicent advanced, the stranger rising to receive her, and then, slowly rising from her profound courtesy, she ventured to raise her eyes, she beheld—her guardian at five-and-twenty-the same tall, bony, ungraceful figure, the same stern features, the same thick eyebrows, and cold, unloving eyes. If Lady Millicent had, in her own little brain, concocted any romantic stories with regard to this charming youth, the first glance put them to flight as effectually as a gun-shot among a flock of sparrows; not one could stand its ground before those chilling eyes; and my grandmother felt that there could be no more sympathy, no more regard, and no more confidence between herself and the young man, than between her and his father. True, he was somewhat more polite, spoke to her somewhat oftener, but always with the same stiff, ungenial manner, the same harsh voice and unsmiling face, as Lord Amesford; and when the hour for retiring came, the poor girl left the room, feeling, if possible, more wearied, more constrained, than when the evening had passed with only her guardian and Mrs. Hartwell, who was always a certain resource, as she could converse with her in low tones while Lord Amesford sat silent and half asleep by the fire.

Another year passed by, and another, bringing but little change. Lady Millicent had gradually grown from a girl into the blooming beauty of early womanhood. Her dark eyes sparkled with an expression and a vivacity that even her dull, lonely life could not subdue; her cheeks bloomed with the roses of youth and health; her teeth gleamed forth from her coral lips, for all the world like her mother's pearl necklace from its scarlet morocco case when you peeped into it half open, as her old nurse used to say-and the foolish old woman was not far wrong with her fantastic comparison; her chestnut hair was rich and wavy, her skin transparently fair, and altogether, a

more beautiful or fascinating creature than my grandmother at the age of twenty it would have been difficult to see. What Lord Wharton thought on the subject, it was hard to tell. He paid her as much stiff, formal attention, as his ungainly nature could bend to; but it was always done as if by an effort, and not prompted by the feelings so young and lovely a woman was likely to inspire in the breast of a man of his age: still he seemed to be always, as it were, keeping a sort of watch on her. He rarely went from home, and never for any length of time; as much as his father, he shunned intercourse with any of the neighbouring gentry, and discouraged their visits, and altogether Lady Millicent felt that she had now two objects of fear and distrust instead of one; and had it not been for the natural buoyancy of her spirits, and the society of her second mother, the excellent Mrs. Hartwell, she would have lost all courage under the painful constraint imposed upon her.

One day the party were sitting at breakfast, and Lord Amesford was as usual looking over the letters which the morning's post had brought; among these one seemed particularly to arrest his attention, he read it over carefully, and then handing it to his son, said, "Here is a letter from your aunt Barbara, it seems she is coming home to Wellwood." Lord Wharton read the letter, returned it to his father in silence, and the matter then dropped.

A month or six weeks later, the arrival of Mrs. Barbara Morland at Wellwood Cottage was duly announced, and Lord Amesford and his son set forth to pay their devoirs with proper respect.

Mrs. Barbara Morland was the sister, and, from their mother, co-heiress of the wife of Lord Amesford. In early life she experienced, I have heard from good authority, a cross in love, which determined her never to marry; but so far from her temper or disposition being soured by her sad experience, she

had sought and found, in higher and better things, not only consolation but cheerfulness, and a more amiable or loveable old lady than Mrs. Barbara existed not in the world. When her sister's marriage with Lord Amesford, then Mr. Harwood, turned out so ill, Mrs. Barbara (who was considerably older than Mrs. Harwood, and had, since the death of their parents, and her marriage, lived alone) gave up the beautiful place in Cornwall, where she had resided for years, and to which she was warmly attached, to come and settle in the neighbourhood of Harwood, to afford to her unhappy sister whatever comfort and aid she was capable of receiving in her sad position. She had purchased Wellwood Cottage, which, with its grounds bordering on a forest of some extent, was almost the only pretty and picturesque spot in the neighbourhood, and there she resided uninterruptedly till Mrs. Harwood's death; and though after that event she gave it up as a fixed abode, she occasionally came to it to pass some of the summer months.

Notwithstanding the causes of dislike that must exist in Mrs. Barbara's mind towards her brother-in-law, her gentle and Christian spirit had prevented her indulging in bitter sentiments towards him, and, to do him justice, her interference in behalf of his wife had always been well received, and had not unfrequently been productive of favourable results; even his stern nature was not proof against her winning goodness, and he felt more regard and respect for her, perhaps, than for any other person. Hence no rupture had occurred, and whenever Mrs. Barbara came to Wellwood, Lord Amesford never failed to pay her all due respect.

For some years Mrs. Barbara had been abroad, and this was the first visit she had paid to Wellwood since her return, so that my grandmother had never yet seen her, and in the taciturn household of her guardian she had heard so little of her, that she could not feel much interest in her arrival.

At dinner, Lord Amesford, with much formality, announced that on the following day Mrs. Barbara Morland purposed paying a visit to Lady Millicent, who, he requested, would receive her with all due consideration.

My grandmother knew not whether to be pleased or frightened at the proffered attention, not knowing what sort of person Mrs. Barbara might be, and having a haunting idea that any connexion of her guardian's must be of the same stamp as himself; however, she, with some confusion, expressed her sense of the honour offered her, and with considerable trepidation prepared to receive her visitor, who on the afternoon of the succeeding day carried her proposal into execution.

Lady Millicent's heart beat quicker as the servant threw open the door of her accustomed sitting-room, and in loud tones announced "Mrs. Barbara Morland and Miss Alice Morland," but in a moment her feelings of alarm were succeeded by those of joy and confidence, as the kind, benignant, and still handsome face of the good old lady beamed upon her, while in her footsteps followed a young lady of about my grandmother's age, very pretty, and looking as bright and good-tempered as youth, and beauty, and health, ought to make young ladies look.

They were all friends before the visit terminated, and as Mrs. Barbara pressed my grandmother's hand at parting, she exacted a promise (which Lady Millicent could only make conditionally on her guardian's approval), that she would, within two days, visit Wellwood, and that a frequent and familiar intercourse should exist between herself and its inhabitants,-a point which Mrs. Barbara promised to arrange with Lord Amesford herself.

You may imagine the change this association effected in the hitherto sad and secluded existence of my grandmother. Few days passed without a meeting with the Wellwood circle, and though both Lord Amesford and his son seemed somewhat

jealous and mistrustful of the new intimacy, they did not positively discourage it, and it was far too delightful to my grandmother for her to affect to perceive their latent dissatisfaction, so long as it was not expressed. Alice Morland, the pretty young lady who resided with Mrs. Barbara, was the orphan. daughter of her only brother, who had left her and a son, and at his death had confided her to his sister; the son, Herbert, a fine handsome young man, with a good fortune bequeathed by his father, was in the army, and abroad with his regiment.

Alice and my grandmother became, as you may well suppose, inseparable friends ere the first week of their acquaintance was over; joined to her beauty, she was amiable, affectionate, and clever, with the same gaiety and vivacity that formed one of the charms of Lady Millicent, and it often did worthy Mrs. Hartwell's heart good, while she sat with Mrs. Barbara, to hear her beloved charge's ringing laugh and joyous voice coming in from the garden or the adjoining apartment, where the two young girls were passing away the summer hours in loitering among the flowers, or sitting over some piece of female industry,—perhaps the very embroidered cover that decorates my own pet arm-chair, and which is still bright when, on state occasions, I remove its more humble dress.

One day, when Lady Millicent arrived at Wellwood, she became immediately conscious of an unusual bustle in the quiet household; and as the old servant opened the door to admit her, he exclaimed,-his honest face beaming with delight,"Oh, my lady! Mr. Herbert's come! Mistress and Miss Alice are beside themselves with joy!"- and ere my grandmother could follow her first impulse, which was to draw back, lest her presence might be intrusive at such a moment, Alice came bounding forth, and drawing her friend's arm through her own, declared that she was just come in time to witness and complete their happiness.