"I should like to know your mother. Will you introduce me to her some time, if I call ?”

"Yes, willingly."

"And will you allow me the privilege of an old friend, of looking in upon you now and then?"

"Yes, if I suppose so."

This was a very foolish answer, but the truth was, I considered that I had no right to invite any one to my mother's house without her knowledge; and if I had said, "Yes, if my mother does not object," it would appear as if by his question I understood more than was expected; so, supposing she would not, I added, "I suppose so:" but of course I should have said something more sensible and more polite, if I had had my wits about me. We continued our walk for a minute in silence; which, however, was shortly relieved (no small relief to me) by Mr. Weston commenting upon the brightness of the morning and the beauty of the bay, and then upon the advantages A―― possessed over many other fashionable places of resort. "You don't ask what brings me to A-," said he. can't suppose I'm rich enough to come for my own pleasure." "I heard you had left Horton."

"You

"You didn't hear, then, that I had got the living of F——?" F was a village about two miles distant from A——.

"No," said I; "we live so completely out of the world, even here, that news seldom reaches me through any quarter; except through the medium of the —— Gazette. But I hope you like your new parish; and that I may congratulate you on the acquisition?"

"I expect to like my parish better a year or two hence, when I have worked certain reforms I have set my heart upon-or, at least, progressed some steps towards such an achievement. But you may congratulate me now; for I find it very agreeable to have a parish all to myself, with nobody to interfere with me—to thwart my plans or cripple my exertions: and besides, I have a respectable house in a rather pleasant neighbourhood, and three hundred pounds a year; and, in fact, I have nothing but solitude to complain of, and nothing but a companion to wish for."

He looked at me as he concluded; and the flash of his dark eyes seemed to set my face on fire; greatly to my own discomfiture, for to evince confusion at such a juncture was intolerable. I made an

effort, therefore, to remedy the evil, and disclaim all personal application of the remark by a hasty, ill-expressed reply, to the effect that, if he waited till he was well known in the neighbourhood, he might have numerous opportunities for supplying his want among the residents of F and its vicinity, or the visitors of A- -, if he required so ample a choice: not considering the compliment implied by such an assertion, till his answer made me aware of it.

"I am not so presumptuous as to believe that," said he, “though you tell it me; but if it were so, I am rather particular in my notions of a companion for life, and perhaps I might not find one to suit me among the ladies you mention."

"If you require perfection, you never will."

"I do not I have no right to require it, as being so far from perfect myself."

Here the conversation was interrupted by a water-cart lumbering past us, for we were now come to the busy part of the sands; and, for the next eight or ten minutes, between carts and horses, and asses, and men, there was little room for social intercourse, till we had turned our backs upon the sea, and begun to ascend the precipitous road leading into the town. Here my companion offered me his arm, which I accepted, though not with the intention of using it as a support.

"You don't often come on to the sands, I think," said he, "for I have walked there many times, both morning and evening, since I came, and never seen you till now; and several times, in passing through the town, too, I have looked about for your school-but I did not think of the Road; and once or twice I made inquiries, but without obtaining the requisite information."

When we had surmounted the acclivity, I was about to withdraw my arm from his, but by a slight tightening of the elbow was tacitly informed that such was not his will, and accordingly desisted. Discoursing on different subjects, we entered the town, and passed through several streets. I saw that he was going out of his way to accompany me, notwithstanding the long walk that was yet before him; and, fearing that he might be inconveniencing himself from motives of politeness, I observed-"I fear I am taking you out of your way, Mr. Weston-I believe the road to F-— lies quite in another direction."

"I'll leave you at the end of the next street," said he. "And when will you come to see mamma?"

"To-morrow-God willing."

The end of the next street was nearly the conclusion of my journey. He stopped there, however, bid me good-morning, and called Snap, who seemed a little doubtful whether to follow his old mistress or his new master, but trotted away upon being summoned by the latter.

"I won't offer to restore him to you, Miss Grey," said Mr.Weston, smiling, "because I like him."

"Oh, I don't want him," replied I, "now that he has a good master; I'm quite satisfied."

"You take it for granted that I am a good one, then ?”

The man and the dog departed, and I returned home, full of gratitude to heaven for so much bliss, and praying that my hopes might not again be crushed.

CHAPTER XXV.

CONCLUSION.

"WELL, Agnes, you must not take such long walks again before breakfast," said my mother, observing that I drank an extra cup of coffee and ate nothing-pleading the heat of the weather, and the fatigue of my long walk as an excuse. I certainly did feel feverish, and tired too.

"You always do things by extremes: now, if you had taken a short walk every morning, and would continue to do so, it would do you good."

Well, mamma, I will."

"But this is worse than lying in bed or bending over your books: you have quite put yourself into a fever."

"I won't do it again," said I.

I was racking my brains with thinking how to tell her about Mr. Weston, for she must know he was coming to-morrow. However, I waited till the breakfast things were removed, and I was more calm and cool; and then, having sat down to my drawing, I began—"I met an old friend on the sands to-day, mamma.”

"An old friend! Who could it be?"

"Two old friends, indeed. One was a dog;" and then I reminded her of Snap, whose history I had recounted before, and related the incident of his sudden appearance and remarkable recognition; "and the other," continued I, "was Mr. Weston, the curate of Horton."

"Mr. Weston! I never heard of him before."

"Yes, you have: I've mentioned him several times, I believe: but you don't remember."

"I've heard you speak of Mr. Hatfield."

"Mr. Hatfield was the rector, and Mr. Weston the curate: I used to mention him sometimes in contradistinction to Mr. Hatfield, as being a more efficient clergyman. However, he was on the sands this morning with the dog-he had bought it, I suppose, from the rat-catcher; and he knew me as well as it did-probably through its means and I had a little conversation with him, in the course of which, as he asked about our school, I was led to say something about you and your good management; and he said he should like to know you, and asked if I would introduce him to you, if he should take the liberty of calling to-morrow; so I said I would. Was I right?"

"A very respectable man, I think: but you will see him tomorrow. He is the new vicar of F, and as he has only been there a few weeks, I suppose he has made no friends yet, and wants a little society."

The morrow came. What a fever of anxiety and expectation I was in from breakfast till noon-at which time he made his appearance! Having introduced him to my mother, I took my work to the window, and sat down to await the result of the interview. They got on extremely well together-greatly to my satisfaction, for I had felt very anxious about what my mother would think of him. He did not stay long that time: but when he rose to take leave, she said she should be happy to see him, whenever he might find it convenient to call again; and when he was gone, I was gratified by hearing her say,-" Well! I think he's a very sensible man. But why did you sit back there, Agnes," she added, "and talk so little ? "

"Because you talked so well, mamma, I thought you required no assistance from me: and, besides, he was your visitor, not mine." After that, he often called upon us-several times in the course of a week. He generally addressed most of his conversation to my mother and no wonder, for she could converse. I almost envied the unfettered, vigorous fluency of her discourse, and the strong sense evinced by everything she said and yet, I did not; for, though I occasionally regretted my own deficiencies for his sake, it gave me very great pleasure to sit and hear the two beings I loved and honoured above every one else in the world, discoursing