vanced without bringing her husband, she grew exceedingly impatient. Few sounds broke the stillness of the night. The seamew, the gull, or the curlew from time to time wheeled screaming overhead, and the loud wind whistled fiercely in the pine grove, which stretched along the highway. But this was a kind of music which had few charms for Mrs. Bennet. The notes her ear delighted in were the footsteps of Tom's Rosinante, rendered doubly heavy by the weight of kegs. But for these she now listened in vain. Presently, however, the loud roll of carriage-wheels approaching the position she had taken up, monopolised her attention. The circumstance was somewhat strange. For though the road led from the principal town in the county to that of Abertâf, she had seldom, at such an hour, been disturbed by any similar apparition. Nevertheless it being extremely dark, Betty thought it scarcely possible that she should be perceived; and at all events there was little danger that persons in a carriage should pause to speculate on the nature of her business there. Still, conscious that the errand she had come about was none of the most lawful, and willing to make assurance doubly sure, Mrs. Bennet backed her mule as close as possible to the overhanging hedge, placing herself under the lee of the tortuous and gnarled trunk of the oak, that she might be in a position to keep a sharp

look out, without, as she imagined, exposing herself to the observation of the travellers. But, notwithstanding her apparent security, there was a presentiment in her mind that the noise she heard, now every moment increasing in loudness, boded her no good. Her thoughts, as was natural, moved in a dense atmosphere of superstition, so that there was no act of life, however simple, no development, however ordinary, of natural phenomena, which did not, according to her system of interpretation, presage some change of fortune to herself or her neighbours. Considerably agitated, therefore, she scarcely knew why, Mrs. Bennet, bending forward, cast a hurried and alarmed glance along the highway, in the direction from which the sounds approached. For some minutes she was doomed to depend on the evidence of one sense only for the character of that which caused her uneasiness. The harsh grating of wheels, however, as they dashed over the stony road, the quick and confused tramp of horses, and the cracking of whips, borne to her ear through the darkness, scarcely left any doubt as to what it was. Many carriages, whether by night or by day, she had before now seen, and that too without experiencing any apprehension or flutter of the nerves. What then could be the reason that on this occasion she felt so much disturbed? Her mind could scarcely have been shaded by more

gloomy fancies had the plumes of a hearse moved waving before her sight. It seemed as though there were some truth in the theory, that the events of distant periods of our lives are linked together by associations, the touching of one extremity of which opens up, before our mental vision, some obscure glimpses of the occurrences, good or evil, which are to be unfolded when we shall have passed over the varied track of years. Presently, as with trembling eagerness she continued gazing, two brilliant lights, brought suddenly into view by a sharp turn in the road, enabled her to give more definite shape to her surmises. The carriage was in fact close at hand, and its lamps seemed so luminous, and cast so broad and powerful a stream of light upon the hedges as they swept along, that Betty verily persuaded herself the travellers within might, if so disposed, count the very hairs on her mule's back. She would consequently have retreated had sufficient time been allowed her. But such a movement was now altogether out of the question; for, on came the horses with the speed of thought, a broad glare fell upon her figure, a head was projected through the carriage window, and she distinctly heard a stifled shriek within. However, persons travelling in so splendid an equipage could have no business with her. She scarcely doubted that they would proceed on their way without con

descending to interrupt the current of her affairs; and to her extreme delight the vehicle rolled on full fifty yards or more.

Mrs. Bennet congratulated herself with having escaped, she knew not what. Still, it struck her that the postilions, whom, however, she could discern but very indistinctly, had eyed her curiously as they passed, while the thrusting forth of the head from the window seemed a circumstance yet more sinister. While her mind was swarming with these and other reflections, the mysterious object of her solicitude stopped; a servant descending, speedily threw open the door, and a tall figure wrapped in a military cloak leaped forth into the road. Mrs. Bennet now thought it was all over with her, particularly when she observed the stranger making right for the spot where she stood. Accustomed as she was to the rude accidents of life, it had not been her lot to be engaged in many adventures with persons belonging to the upper ranks of society, who are always regarded by ignorance with a species of awe. Her limbs, therefore, trembled violently as the traveller drew nearer and nearer, and could she have mustered sufficient strength there can be little doubt that she would have bolted. Her terror, however, was somewhat allayed when the gentleman, coming up, said to her in a low pleasant voice:

"My good woman, I will make your fortune, if" Here he paused, as though uncertain in what way to terminate the sentence. There was something in his manner which entirely restored Mrs. Bennet's self-possession.

"What, Sir," inquired she, "can I do for ye? Be it anything in the way of brandy or hollands ?"

The gentleman's mind appeared to be too full of his own thoughts to permit him very accurately to comprehend Mrs. Bennet's drift. Without noticing, therefore, her ludicrous question.

"Have you many children?" he demanded.

"Why, what is it to him," thought Betty, "whether I have or not?" She had often, by her goodnatured and considerate neighbours been taunted on her sterility, and this, therefore, was rather a sore point with her. Feeling, however, that the present was not a time for giving way to indignation, which, to say the truth, fear would scarcely have permitted her to indulge, she replied to her interrogator's question in the negative.

"Become a mother then to one," said he; "and he shall bring along with him, into your house, the means of comfort and independence."

"For that matter," cried Betty, "I've long wished for a child-"

She would have proceeded, but the gentleman was evidently little disposed to listen to her.

His