had always, and for years, felt-to use his own expressiona sneaking kindness for his cousin. The prince's visit had frightened him; but that over,he resolved to lose no more time, lest, to use the same language, somebody else should snap her up.

This he said in a letter to Granville, containing also the most precious document of all-no less than the letter of the squire himself, making his proposal to his cousin, accompanied by the characteristic request, that he (Granville) would look it over and correct it for him, before he arrived to present it. "For," said he, "as you are an author, and have written sev. eral things about love, which, I have heard say, are very pretty, you must be a judge of the proper style, and therefore I beg you to help me, being not much used to that sort of thing myself."

Granville here continued to laugh so heartily, that I accused him of injustice to what seemed a most praiseworthy modesty.

"But pray, said I, "may I ask your opinion of the composition? I do not, of course, ask to see it."

"No; honor forbids that; but thus much I may be permitted to tell, that it is written in a good school-hand, almost all well spelt, and though the sentimental part cannot be complimented, yet as to style, it is so original, that it is impossi ble to correct it without destroying its genuineness.

"There is also another despatch," continued Granville, "which I am charged to deliver to his uncle, in which he at least shows generosity, if not delicacy; for he tells him, by way of bribe, that, in consideration of his late losses, he will take Bertha without a fortune."

"At any rate," said I, growing serious, "this is a matter not to be lightly treated."

"Certainly not," replied he; for though I thought it but due to our friendship to tell you this the moment I received it, which was not a half an hour ago, I thought myself bound to lay it before my uncle directly, whatever may become of the letter to Bertha."

"I cannot say you are wrong," answered I, losing all disposition to be amused; "and who knows how it may be taken by Mr. Hastings?"

"I think I can tell you," said he. "It will ruin him with

his uncle directly; for the offer, particularly for the reason assigned, will be considered as a deadly affront, both by father and daughter."

I felt re-as sured, but was struck by my friend's assuming a graver air than he had hitherto showed, when he said,

"Although we have but one opinion as to the result to Mansell-"

"Who are the we?" interrupted I, unless that dear Lady Hungerford is apprised of the matter, and has condescended to be interested as to my share in it."

"I need not tell you that she is," said Granville, "and she thinks it may and must lead to a serious decision on your part, which may considerably affect, nay, alter your present position: hence my question to you when I came in."

"For God's sake, let me know it," returned I, now in downright alarm. "But Lady Hungerford cannot think this rich churl worthy of Bertha."

"That she does not," answered be; "but as no other person is in view, and the field perfectly open, free from even expectation of any other"

"And can that be?" again interrupted I. "Have I disguised myself so well? Has a seven years' constancy, continued even after rejection; a disclosure torn from me by madness; a life risked, and renewed devotion; have all these spoken so indistinctly as to convey no meaning? Surely, they are and must be convinced that--"

"Patience, patience, impetuous youth," cried Granville, nor suppose that because you feel every beat of your own heart, others are bound to do so too. In truth, I believe Mrs. Margaret, who discovered you before, is the only one of the family besides ourselves who has had the sagacity to penetrate you now. For, emboldened by the familiarity which she has been indulged in by all whom she knows, she said to me only this morning, she was as sure as sixpence that Mister Clifford was still in love with her lady."

"And you?"

"I could only laugh, and did not desire her to inform Bertha of it, who without that, I am persuaded, has no suspicion."

"Well, Sir," said I, not a little impatiently, "and what has this to do with Lady Hungerford's surmise?"

"A great deal,” replied he; "for don't you perceive that while there is not a suspicion, on the part of either Bertha or her father, that there is a competition for her hand, a single offer has, at least, a better chance of being listened to? and though he is coarse and rough, yet, as he has no vice, is of their own blood, and rich withal, his sister rather a favourite, and in the same county too—

"O! hold," cried I, more and more uneasy; "you need not go on to enumerate his advantages, but say at once what Lady Hungerford thinks about him."

"Not so much about him," proceeded Granville, "as about yourself, in regard to whom she thinks it unfair that Mr. Hastings certainly, if not Bertha, should be called upon to decide upon a case, when all is not before them; in short, when there are two strings to their bow, to act as if there were but one.”

"And what does that imply?" said I, a good deal embarrassed, for I saw there was but one answer.

"Why, what you plainly forestal," replied he; "though I am aware of all the danger to your delicacy and independence, and as jealous for them as yourself. No; Bertha must know nothing of your wishes or intentions. But with regard to her father it is different; and it will only be calling upon you to put the principle I have sometimes heard you lay down into practice, that a suitor should always disclose his wishes to the parent, before he opens them to the child, from the fear lest, if he secure the affection of the child, and difficulty occur with the parent, a great evil might arise which might have been avoided."

"I have held that opinion," said I, "which I do not retract when I own my hesitation to speak to Mr. Hastings first. For this might only produce rejection, which never, without mockery, could be set at defiance by perseverance; while favour on his part would by no means amount to ac ceptance on hers. Then, as to addressing herself at present, you know, and allow, my objections. The consequence is, I dare not open myself to either. On the other hand, I should wrong the ideas I have of Bertha's sweet character, if I did not leave it to itself in judging intrinsically upon the merits or demerits of any one who addressed her, without influence or bias from any thing extraneous. Shall I own to you, that

with all my sense of inferiority to her in every light that can be imagined, I should feel little flattered at being merely preferred to this dolt, who certainly sat for Pope's description of a country lover:

Who visits with a gun, presents you birds,

Then gives a smacking kiss, and cries, no words;
Or with his hound comes hallooing from the stable,
Makes love with nods, and knees beneath the table;
Whose laughs are hearty, though his jests are course,
And loves you best of all things-but his horse.""

"To that," replied Granville, "every one that knows you both must assent; but what is the result?"

"That I will cling to my persuasion, my invincible assurance, that, even though Mr. Hastings were to recommend it, and it were a thousand times more advantageous, the gentle but firm spirit of his daughter would refuse the alliance."

"I believe you are right," returned Granville; "nor will I tax you with much vanity, in not being afraid of such a rival, were you both to appear as candidates together; though of the prudence of leaving the field open to all the chances there are for him, if left alone, but of which he might be so instantly deprived by your mere appearance, I am not so sure." "If Bertha's unaided choice," returned I, "weighing her pure silver against this dross, does not reject it, in the language of my Shaksperian ancestor,

My lord baron," replied Granville, with some irony, "I only wish you had your barony to give; and as the dinner bell is ringing, I humbly take my leave."

By this I found that he was not too well pleased with my rejection of his advice; but buoyed up by my conviction that Bertha, even were she portionless would never stoop to be the wife of a man by nature made for a groom, I could not repent my decision.

CHAPTER XXV.

FARTHER UNCERTAINTIES ABOUT BERTHA.-I FEEL LOST AMID A CROWD OF SUPERIOR INTERESTS. -PICTURE OF MY NEW RIVAL, AND OF THE SUCCESS THAT ATTENDED HIM.

Ay, that's a colt indeed, for he doth nothing but talk of his horse, and he makes it a great appropriation of his own good parts, that he can shoe him himself. I am much afraid that my lady his mother played false with a smith.

SHAKSPEARE.- -Merchant of Venice.

AT dinner we were all, I thought, strangely quiet, or rather absent. Whether Mr. Hastings had already communicated Mansell's advance to his daughter or not, both of them seemed occupied with anything but what was before them. Whether, too, Granville was really angry with me, and had made Lady Hungerford share his anger, I could not tell, but both were grave and distrait.

For myself, though I can hardly account for it, I never was so little so. I believe I felt a sort of triumph in having, as I thought, done such justice to Bertha. The only observation that could even tacitly allude to the subject was by Mr. Hastings himself who, by way of informing those who did not know it, said,

"Mr. Mansell comes to-night. He does us a great deal of honour."

At which, the dinner being ended, he rose, as had been his custom since his illness, and, attended by Bertha, retired to his siesta in his room.

She soon returned, and the conversation became a little more lively. I had watched her upon her father's announcing Mansell's visit, and thought I could perceive her colour heightened. She knows the object, thought I.

On her return, Lady Hungerford, looking at Granville, said, "I think we might have excused our Nimrod of a cousin upon this occasion."

66

He, however, brings Lucinda with him," observed Bertha,