beneath his window, reminding the half-bewildered student that it was not all a dreamthe visions of the night. one side, the good lady hastily patted down stairs. When Horace entered the breakfast parlour, they were all assembled around the table, and all busily discussing their plans for the day's amusement. "Uncle, I am of Kate's mind," said Constance. "A sail on the lake this lovely morning will be perfectly enchanting. I will take my sketchbook, for I know there must be some charming scenes for the pencil." Yes, there they were, the whole happy troop, in the most bewitching morning dresses, enjoying to their bent this lovely summer morning in the country. Without a saddle, bonny Kate A seat had been reserved for him between had sprung upon the back of his favourite pony, his father and Meggie, and with a cheerplayfully patting his arched neck and coaxing, ful smile, his hair brushed so, after Mrs. Dihim to a fleet gallop over the greensward-and mity's model, Horace advanced to the breakfast now away, away they bound across the lawn, | table. His morning salutation was returned shaking down the glittering dew drops from the with the most bland politeness by each smiling old elms, and the long beautiful hair of Kate girl, and the conversation his presence had but floating in luxuriant abandon on the soft breezy slightly interrupted, resumed. air. Constance, the stately, dignified Constance, mounted on the brink of the horsetrough, is clapping her hands at the gambols of some half-dozen little porkers in the pig-sty, and tossing green apples into the voracious mouth of Madame Mère. Gabriella, with her neat pink gingham carefully tucked up around her cunning little ankles, has seated herself! upon the milking-stool, taking a lesson from the tall, laughing Irish girl, while at a little distance Bessie and Lucy surrounded by a noisy chattering brood of fowls, from the stately turkey to the tiniest unfledged chicken, are scattering among them handfuls of the yellow grain, which they have just brought in their aprons from the corn-crib. A merry shoutand from a little thicket out springs merry Meggie, with a long fish-pole trailing after her, and in her hand a bunch of shining trout, while with a loud "halloo" the old gentleman himself follows close behind her, crying out "Ah, you mischievous monkey, will you spoil my best rod, and run away with my fish to boot!" "New times these, Mr. Horace!" said Mrs. Dimity, close at the elbow of the student, ere he was aware of her presence-for be it owned, his senses were all absorbed by the novel and beautiful scene from his window, where concealed by a half-closed blind, he had been looking out upon the cheerful abandon of his fair cousins. "Dear me, it makes me think of my young days, Mr. Horace, just to see and hear them pretty creatures! I thought I'd just look in to see if you were fit to be seen, for breakfast is almost ready. Now, don't go down in that old dressing-gown again. Hark-ha, ha, ha,-well I do declare, just hear them happy young things! Oh Mr. Horace, look out there, and study them beautiful works of God, and let your old books writ by men's hands alone. Bless their hearts-well, well, I must go down, or that careless Bridget will send in the broiled chickens wrong side up. Now do pray put on your coat like a Christian, and brush your hair-so, there!"-and suiting the action to the word, by pushing her own gray locks on "Do you propose a sail this morning?" asked Horace. 66 We have thought of it," replied Constance, with a slight bend of her queenly head. "Now is it a very romantic spot, uncle?" said Kate with an arch face; "is it a sweet place for lovers? Are there any melancholy willows sweeping the translucent surface with their graceful branches?" "Plenty of them, you jade, and plenty of golden pickerel and fine speckled trout, which is more to my fancy," answered Mr. Mansfield. "And mine too," cried Gabriella; "so while Con' draws from nature for the entertainment of the imagination, I will draw those same fish from the bosom of the lake for the better entertainment of our appetites!" "At what hour do we go?" asked Bessie; "for my part, I am impatient to be off!" "About nine, I think," replied her uncle. "We will row to the opposite shore, ramble about awhile, lunch, and be back in time for dinner. Put up some gimcracks, Mrs. Dimity, for the girls, and something a little more substantial for me." "Excuse me, father," interrupted Horace, "if I suggest the afternoon as the best time for the sail; the shadows which then rest upon the lake and the woody slope beyond are most beautiful, and will present more attraction for my cousin's pencil than the hour you propose." "Why, the girls prefer the morning, you see, Horace, and it makes not a jot's difference to me," answered Mr. Mansfield. "Nor to me certainly," continued Horace; any hour you prefer, fair ladies." "O, of course, it can make no difference to you!" said Gabriella twirling her spoon. "Not in the least," chimed in Kate; "for you will most probably be wandering amid the Pyramids, or searching out the source of the Nile, or gliding down the yellow Tiber, while we float merrily, merrily, merrily float | a mischievous glance at Horace, who stood o'er the waters blue' of this beautiful lake uncle tells of!" "But, my dear cousin, I have no idea of such extensive wanderings as you propose for me," replied Horace smiling, "for I intend to devote the morning to your society." biting his lips with ill-concealed vexation. It was very ungrateful, doubtless, in Horace not to feel himself perfectly free and comfortable, when his cousins had taken so much pains to make him so; but somehow, he never found himself so ill at ease, and instead of going up "Oh, no-no-no!" chimed in every voice; into his study and sitting down to his books, "indeed you must not think of it!" as he undoubtedly should have done, he strolled forth into the garden, and from thence into the little grove beyond. But go where he would, he could not get rid of his tormenting thoughts; "I assure you it will indeed be a happiness, or, if for a moment they turned into their a relief, a-" "No-not a word, not a word; now really we will all take the stage to-morrow morning and leave the Hall and our dear uncle, if you still insist upon regarding us in the light of strangers!" exclaimed Kate with the greatest ear nestness. "You mistake me entirely, I assure you—” "No-no-no, we will not hear of it!" Again Horace looked to his father for help in this perplexing dilemma, but the nose and chin of the old gentleman were buried in his coffee cup, his head thrown back, and his eyes most pertinaciously fixed upon the ceiling. Up sprang the lively girls. "Come, away for our bonnets, come!" cried Gabriella. "Dear cousin Horace," whispered little Meggie coming close to him, "do go with us, now won't you? Do!" "Meggie, Meggie!" said Kate putting her head in at the door, "come this moment, and don't be teasing in this manner; really you should have been left at home!" "Clever girls, Horace, and make themselves at home just as I want to have them," exclaimed Mr. Mansfield. "Now some silly conceited things would have taken airs upon themselves, and not been contented with an old fellow like me to beau them about, when such a nice young man as you were to be had; no-no-these girls understand themselves; don't you enjoy it, eh ?" "Perhaps, father, it will be more polite in me to make one of your party this morning!" "Pooh, nonsense! don't trouble yourself; you know what Constance told you." "True, but that was fastidiousness. I am sure you would prefer my going." "Not at all. I am convinced at last that society is really irksome to you, and now, my dear boy, I am going to let you do as you please. I have plagued your life out for half a dozen years, urging you to marriage and all that sort of thing, but henceforth, you are free to enjoy your silent friends up stairs to your heart's content." “Come, uncle, we are ready. Good-bye to you, cousin, and a pleasant time!" said Kate, with wonted channel, his eyes were sure to rest upon some dainty footprint in the moist gravel, and whew, they were off again in a tangent! Poor fellow! it was no place for him where such witching spells were cast on every side; and so he once more sought his study, where surely no such fantastic visions could gain an entrance. Ah, it was quite a relief to him to repose himself once more within its quiet limits; and turning over the pages of Euclid, he endeavoured to fix his attention once more upon his favourite pursuit. And to prove the practicability of a course which may seem so impracticable, his progress shall be faithfully reported. "How perfectly absurd it is for those girls to act as they do!" he exclaimed, rapidly whirling over the leaves. "Ah here it is-let me see,-let AGKQ be two similar-there is something uncommonly interesting about Gabriella— parallelopipeds, of which AB and-what superb eyes Kate has—and, and—let me see-KL are two homologous sides-the wife of Cæsar could not have been more haughty than the proud Constance the ratio of-of-and what a queenly step-ratio of where was I?—AG, no—A— no-confound Euclid-away with it!" CHAPTER V. "How far did you say it was to the Glen?" asked Gabriella, as they rose from the dinner table. "Only three miles," replied her uncle. "I will order out the old carriage, and we'll be there just time enough for a pleasant stroll among the rocks and the babbling brooks, as Kate would say, and drive home round by the borders of the lake by moonlight-there will be romance for you!" “It will be charming!” cried Kate; “dear, what a nice uncle you are!" and clapping her two little hands upon his cheeks she gave the old gentleman a hearty kiss. "Did you find a subject worthy of your pencil this morning?" asked Horace, bowing to Constance. "I sketched one or two pretty views," she trembling with melody, as a rich voice, modureplied, turning away. lated to the sweetest intonations, warbled rather than sang, like a skylark on its upward flight, one of Beethoven's most exquisite melodies. Horace had no power to move; he stood as if spellbound "Will you allow me to look at them?" said Horace, laying his hand on the portfolio she had carelessly thrown down. "They are not worthy your notice, but such as they are, you are welcome to inspect them," answered Constance coldly, drawing forth one or two landscapes, and placing them in his hand. Horace started with surprise and pleasure as his eye rested upon those beautiful and vivid representations of the scenery with which he had been familiar from childhood. They were the work of no unskilful hand, -taste, genius, culture, were indicated in every line, and he was about to express his pleasure, when Meggie, running in from the piazza, cried "You are going with us to the Glen, are you not, cousin? Say yes, do!" "Well, yes,” replied Horace, drawing her to his side and kissing her; "certainly I will go with you, and I will gather you some beautiful wild flowers which grow high up among the rocks." "Cousin Horace, you will spoil that child by allowing her to tease you in this manner. Meggie, be still! I am astonished at you, for you know very well the impropriety of your request," said Constance. 'Why so, my fair cousin ?" replied Horace. "Her request is certainly a very flattering one to me, and with your leave I will avail myself of it to join your party to the Glen." Constance hesitated, when Gabriella, with a half-pouting air, exclaimed "Indeed, I see you are already wishing us away from the Hall, Mr. Mansfield, for you continue to insist upon that which you know would mar our enjoyment as much as it would yours-is it not so, Constance,-girls, is it not so?—There, you hear they all agree with me; and now, unless you really wish us gone, never, never say another word about going with us anywhere. Come, girls, that we may not detain our cousin any longer, suppose we adjourn to the parlour, and have a little music." And gayly nodding a good-bye, each fair lady glided past the more than half-angry student, leaving him alone to "chew the cud of sweet and bitter fancies." "This is ridiculous!" he exclaimed aloud; "however, your wishes shall be gratified. I will no further trouble you with my importunities, fair ladies!" So saying, he turned upon his heel and strode with a lofty air through the long hall, unconscious of several pairs of wicked laughing eyes peeping at him through the halfopen door of the parlour. Suddenly a strain of delicious music breathed around. He paused. The very air seemed "Right hard it was for wight which did it hear, To weet what manner music that might be, For all that pleasing is to living ear, Was there consorted in one harmonie." Then the strain melted away "like the sweet south that breathes upon a bank of violets." Another moment the keys were swept with a rapid hand to a lively prelude, and a gay Venetian barcarole was sung in the same sweet accents, to which one or two other birdlike voices warbled a merry chorus. CHAPTER VI. A WEEK passed. Every day some party of pleasure was arranged by uncle and nieces without the least reference to Horace, who, true to his word, kept himself aloof from the society of his cousins. There were sailing parties, and rides, and rambles among the hills, by day, while at evening, delicious music charmed the ear of the student as it swept up to his desolate nook-or the sprightly measure of waltz or cotillion told of the gay scene going on below, in which he was forbidden, as it were, to join. Not that he wanted to-oh no, not he-for he was never more bent upon study! Poor fellow! how he would pace the floor, book in hand, striving to fix his thoughts upon its pages-how for hours would he sit with head inclined, poring over all sorts of odd figures, some of them the queerest things, for all the world like the tiniest fairies-but then that must have been all fancy, as of course no such "airy nothings" could find "habitation” here. Then such a chattering, and laughing, and constant tripping up and down stairs, and through the long winding passages, and away out upon the lawn, and under the grave old trees; why it was as if a whole flock of wild geese were for ever circling about the premises, and it was terribly annoying! To make matters worse, he was continually haunted by one particular pair of dark melting eyes following him wherever he moved—and one particular voice, whose gentlest intonation set his heart in a perfect furor,-leaping, trembling, fluttering, bounding, longing to escape from its prison, and fly all enraptured to bask in the light of those beautiful eyes-the eyes of the queenly Constance. One day little Meggie tapped at his door, and putting her pretty face timidly within, asked if she might enter and sit awhile with Cousin Horace. Dear little soul, her presence was like a sunbeam to the moody scholar; he kissed her rosy cheek, and drew a chair for her close beside his own, listened delighted to her childish prattle, and brought forth all his store of pictures for her entertainment. The morning passed pleasantly to both, and from that day the little maid seemed to prefer the society of the grave Horace to joining in the rambles of her sisters and cousins. They soon grew very cosy together, Meggie chatting continually, and whenever she made her sister Constance the theme, it was wonderful how patiently the student laid down his book and listened, without once chiding the little chatterbox. When Meggie was absent he devoted the most of his time to writing, scribbling, and then tearing up whole sheets of closely written blank verse or rhyme, and then beginning again, and again destroying. He might have been writing a poem of almost endless cantos, but as he always carefully locked within a little escritoire the labours of his pen, the fact remains undecided to this day. But one morning a mischievous zephyr flew in at the window and stole a stray leaf of the student's poetry, and wafted it to the feet of little Meggie. She slyly seized it and saw that it was addressed to her sister Constance. Children are such matter-of-fact creatures! she saw no poetry at all in the matter, only as the paper was addressed to Constance, why of course it must belong to Constance, so she said never a word, but slyly hiding it in her bosom, took occasion to trip out of the room unobserved by Horace. But it was not long ere the poet missed the precious document. In vain he sought among his papers, turned over sheet after sheet, rummaged his books, under the table, upon the shelves,—in vain, nowhere could he find it. Now, if by chance he had about that time visited the little summer-house at the foot of the garden, he would have discovered that very paper in the fair hands of Constance herself, who, with glowing cheek, was intently perusing its hurried characters. Again and again she read it, and then pressing it to her lips, and to her beautiful eyes, all humid with tears, she placed it in her bosom. Not many days after this, Mr. Mansfield and his nieces in a joyous mood met in the little grove. "Come, girls," exclaimed the old gentleman, "I think our business is accomplished, and now we may give the reins with a little more freedom; yes, yes, I've watched him, and I'll lay you a wager the poor fellow is as completely sick of his books as one could wish. Why he is actually pining away into a very shadow for the pleasure of your society, you mocking little gipsies!-And now what say you, shall we withdraw our liege commands,-shall we, Constance?" A crimson blush mantled her features. It was surely a very simple question, but one which seemed very difficult to answer. At length she replied "If you really think it would give our cousin Horace pleasure, uncle." "If it would-you know it would, minx! Ah, I've seen it; you know he follows you with his eyes wherever you move; and don't he listen as if under some siren's spell whenever you open your lips,-don't he, hey ?—ah, no wonder you blush!" "Yes, and he writes verses, too uncle!" exclaimed naughty little Meg. "Hush, hush, child, nonsense!" said Constance quickly, endeavouring to check her. "Ah Con' dear, and some other folks are given to nonsense too; let me see," and drawing from her reticule a small folded paper, Kate, with an arch glance at her cousin, cleared her voice and began "Deem not the heart you-" "Kate, Kate!" cried Constance springing up, every feature glowing with indignation. Then snatching the paper from her hand, she tore it in pieces, and bursting into tears fled from the group. "Wh-e-w-w-w! what's all this, hey,-why what's the matter with my grave Constance?" cried the old gentleman. "O nothing, nothing, uncle, only that your grave Constance is in love with your grave son, and our phlegmatic student fallen in love with Constance, that's all!" replied Gabriella with a merry laugh. "Ha, I thought so! Kiss me, you jades, every one of you, for I am the happiest old fellow above ground," exclaimed Mr. Mansfield catching Kate in his arms. But Meggie stooping down, slyly collected the fragments which Constance had so indignantly scattered upon the fresh, bright grass, and hid them in her bosom. ing toothache-zounds, what a twinge!-and | for? I tell you, you have got to dance at his I promised the girls last night that I would go wedding yet, you silly old woman!" with them this morning before breakfast to the Glen; but this deuced tooth, ugh!--and I fear the poor things will be sadly disappointed. Now, my boy, if you could leave your studies just for an hour or so-ugh!—and take my place-" "Certainly, my dear father," cried Horace, springing out of bed with great alacrity. "Constance, you see, has set her heart upon sketching something or other which she thinks will be prettiest at sunrise; but it is a pity to disturb you!" "Don't give yourself any uneasiness upon that head," said Horace, rapidly throwing on his clothes. "I shall be very glad to be of service to my cousins." "Perhaps after all it will be better to postpone it until to-morrow, only it is such a beautiful morning," said the old gentleman in a husky voice, and drawing the handkerchief still closer around his mouth. As Mr. Mansfield's toothache obstinately continued for several days, why of course Horace was obliged to forsake his books entirely, and devote his time to his cousins-a necessity which on the whole, seemed very agreeable all round; and when at length the old gentleman thought it prudent to join the circle, Horace still kept his place, probably from right of possession, possibly from inclination. Four weeks of this pleasant visit were already flown, and in one more, the charming visiters were to bid farewell to Mansfield Hall and their kind old uncle. To Horace this announcement seemed as the parting knell to all his happiness. He loved Constance. His soul was filled with her image. She was the idol before whom all his thoughts bowed down, and for whose happiness life itself were too slight a sacrifice. But he dared not tell her this; for in the lofty bearing of Con"O no, on no account should they be disap-stance, in her reserve, and evident avoidance pointed, and it is as you say, such a beautiful of his presence, he read not only indifference, morning!" exclaimed Horace with uncommon but scorn! earnestness, drawing on his boots. "Very well, my son, very well-then I'll make myself easy and go to bed again, only I hate to break in upon your studies just to humour the whims of those giddy girls. Well, give my love to them, and do, Horace, try to be as agreeable as you can, and not be thinking too much of your confounded books-zounds, I shall go crazy!-Well, well, cold iron will relieve me!" So saying the old gentleman withdrew, but had no sooner closed the door, than he threw off the handkerchief, and indulged in a hearty but silent laugh, while at the same moment the roguish faces of Gabriella and Kate peeped from an opposite chamber. Then placing a finger significantly on their lips, with a knowing nod to their uncle, they stole softly down stairs, when, no longer able to repress their glee, their musical laugh mingled with the morning song of the birds. "Ha! ha! ha! there they go! Caught at last, Mr. Philosopher!" exclaimed Mr. Mansfield as he saw the party setting forth on their excursion. "Here, old lady; look out there; what do you see?" "Why bless me if that ain't Mr. Horace!" "To be sure it's Mr. Horace; and now let me tell you, Mrs. Dimity, there will be a Mistress Horace ere six months are come and gone. Now what do you think of that?" "Well, well, now if that ain't a sight, to see Mr. Horace a talking and laughing with them pretty creatures! Dear me, dear me, I have lived most long enough!" cried the good woman. "No you haven't-what do you tell that story Ah little skilled was he in the heart of woman! It was the evening previous to the departure of the cousins. Dell and dingle had been visited for the last time, the last sail upon the beautiful lake had been taken, the last ramble to the favourite Glen; and now with saddened hearts and countenances, the party once more assembled upon the little portico to talk over past joys, and to anticipate joys as bright in future visits to the old Hall. Turning suddenly to Horace, who was slowly and thoughtfully pacing up and down, Gabriella said, "Now, Cousin Horace, just listen. Do you agree with Kate that love can make a poet out of a dull, prosy scholar?" "Why not, coz, since Love can transform an oyster?'" replied Horace smiling. "Ah! but answer me seriously now. Do you believe one of your prosaic scholars could be suddenly transformed, through the power of Cupid, into a scribbler of verses—a rhyming sentimentalist ?" Horace was embarrassed, while Constance drew up her beautiful head with an air of disdain, as if the subject in debate were certainly a very foolish one, and unworthy any one's attention. "Why you know, dear Kate," said Horace, at length, "what the greatest poet the world e'er saw has said 'Never durst poet touch a pen to write, Until his ink be tempered with Love's sighs!'" "Ah true; well listen then, for here is proof |