impression upon me, I will comply with your request to recognise Mr Lincoln, and at the same time write to Lord Cowley to suggest to his Majesty the Emperor, the expediency of his refusing to recognise him as President of the seceded States, upon the ground that such an act would be inconsistent with the Imperial policy, and with the principles by virtue of which his Imperial Majesty occupies his own throne. Thus I shall be enabled to deprive your Government of any excuse to go to war with this country, and at the same time secure the recognition of the Southern States by a Power whose policy is logical and mysterious, and whose "ideas" are no less practical than sentimental. I have the honour to remain, Sir, with great truth and regard,' and so on.' 66 Well, now," said Mr Wog, "do you really calculate, sir, that Earl Russell will be 'cute enough to get the Emperor to do his dirty work for him? Strikes me Napoleon ain't that kind." "That depends," said Grandon, upon which is the dirtiest work, -to acknowledge an accomplished fact, and adhere to a principle, thereby securing to a gallant nation its independence, or, through an unworthy sentiment of cowardice and self-interest, to consecrate by an official act on the part of our Government the solemn farce of calling Mr Lincoln the elected president of thirteen States who have chosen a president of their own. Even from a selfish point of view, it is a short-sighted policy, as a war with America is inevitable, sooner or later, and we had better choose our own moment for making it." "Grandon," said Dickiefield, who perceived that Mr Wog was puffing volumes of indignation in the form of clouds of tobacco-smoke during this speech," you are getting oracu lar and dull; moreover, my friend Mr Wog is sent over here to give an accurate picture of the feelings of the British aristocracy, and he will get a wrong impression of them if he takes you as a specimen, so perhaps we had better go to bed, more especially as some of us are to start at an early hour in the morning." I went into Grandon's bedroom with him for a moment before going to my own. "We must leave by the early train to-morrow, if we want to get to town in time for the opening of Parliament," he said. "I think I shall stay over to-morrow," I answered. Broadbrim is going up, but the ladies are going to stay two days longer, and the House can open very well without me; besides, Chundango and the Bishop are going to stay over Sunday." 66 "That is an inducement, certainly," said Grandon. Come, you must have some other reason!" "My dear old fellow," said I, putting my hand on Grandon's shoulder, "my time is come at last. Haven't you remarked what low spirits I have been in since dinner? I can't bear it for another twentyfour hours! You know my impulsive sensitive nature. I must know my fate at once from her own lips." "Whose own lips?" said Grandon, with his eyes very wide open. "Lady Ursula's, of course!" I replied. "I knew her very well as a child, so there is nothing very sudden about it." "Well, considering you have never seen her since, I don't quite agree with you," he said, in a deeper tone than usual. "In your own interest, wait till you know a little more of her." "Not another day! Good night!" and I turned from him abruptly. "I'll put myself out of suspense to-morrow, and keep the public in it for a month," thought I, as I fell into a troubled sleep. Printed by William Blackwood & Sons, Edinburgh. It was not till Miss Marjoribanks had surmounted to a certain extent the vexation caused her by her unlucky confidence in Tom, that that unhappy young man took the step which Lucilla had so long dreaded, but which she trusted to her own genius to hinder him from carrying into execution. Miss Marjoribanks had extricated herself so triumphantly from the consequences of that unhappy commencement of the very charming luncheons which she gave in after times, that she had begun to forget the culpability of her cousin. She had defeated the Rector in his benevolent intentions, and she had taken up his protegée just at the moment when Mr Bury was most disgusted with the unfortunate woman's weakness. Poor Mrs Mortimer, to be sure, had fainted, or been near fainting, at the most inopportune moment, and it was only natural that the Rector should be annoyed; but as for Lucilla, who was always prompt in her actions, and whose good-nature and liberality were undoubted, she found her opportunity in the failure of Mr Bury's scheme. After the VOL. XCVII.-NO. DXCIV. Rector had gone away, Miss Marjoribanks herself conducted the story; and by this time Mrs Mortiwidow home, and heard all her mer's prospects were beginning to brighten under the active and effiThis being the case, Lucilla's goodcient patronage of her new friend. humour was perfectly restored, and she had forgiven Tom his maladroitness. know," she said privately to old Mrs "He cannot help it, you Chiley: "I suppose some people And it was indeed as if he had inare born to do ridiculous things." tended to give a practical illustration of the truth of this conclusion that Tom chose the particular moment he did for driving Miss Marjoribanks to the extremity of her patience. The upholsterers were in the house, and indeed had just finished putting up the pictures on the (which was green, as Lucilla had new paper in the drawing-room determined it should be, of the most delicate tint, and looked, as she flattered herself, exactly like silk hangings); and Mr Holden himself waited with a certain complaisance for Miss Marjoribanks's opin 2 D ion of the effect. He had no doubt on the subject himself; but he was naturally impressed, as most people were, with that confidence in Lucilla's judgment which so much facilitates the operations of those persons who are born to greatness. It was precisely at this moment that his evil genius persuaded Tom Marjoribanks to interrupt Thomas, who was carrying Mr Holden's message to his young mistress, and to shut the library door upon the external world. Lucilla had taken refuge in the library during the renovation of the drawing-room; and she was aware that this was Tom's last day at Carlingford, and had no intention of being unkind to him. To tell the truth, she had at the bottom of her heart a certain regard and impulse of protection and patronage towards Tom, of which something might have come had the unlucky fellow known how to manage. But, at the same time, Miss Marjoribanks was aware that things must be approaching a crisis up-stairs, and was listening intently to the movements overhead, and wondering why she was not sent for. This was the moment of all others at which Tom thought fit to claim a hearing; and the state of Lucilla's feelings may be easily imagined when she saw him plant himself by her side, all trembling, with his face alternately red and white, and all the signs of a desperate resolution in his countenance. For the first time in her life a certain despair took possession of Miss Marjoribanks's mind. The sounds had suddenly ceased up-stairs, as if the artists there were making a pause to contemplate the effect of their completed workwhich indeed was precisely the case-and at the same time nobody came to call her, important though the occasion was. She made a last effort to emancipate herself before it was too late. "Ring, please, Tom," she said; "I want to know if they have finished up-stairs. I am so sorry you are going away; but you know it is one of my principles never to neglect my duty. I am sure they must be waiting for me-if you would only be kind enough to ring.' "Lucilla," said Tom, "you know I would do anything in the world you liked to tell me; but don't ask me to ring just now: I am going to leave you, and there is something I must say to you, Lucilla," said the young man, with agitation. Miss Marjoribanks was seated near the window, and she had a moral certainty that if any of the Browns happened to be in that ridiculous glass-house where they did their photography, they must have a perfectly good view of her, with Tom in the background, who had placed himself so as to shut her into the recess of the window. This, coupled with the evidence of her senses that the workmen up-stairs had ceased their work, and that a slow footstep traversing the floor now and then was all that was audible, drove Lucilla to despair. "Yes," she said, temporising a little, which was the only thing she could do, "I am sure I am very sorry; but then, you know, with the house in such a condition! Next time you come I shall be able to enjoy your society," said the designing young woman; "but at present I am so busy. It is one of my principles, you know, that things are never rightly done if the lady of the house does not pay proper attention. They are sure to make some dreadful mistake up-stairs if I don't look after them. I shall see you again before you go." Lucilla, don't be so cruel!" cried the unlucky Tom, and he caught her hand though they were at the window; "do stop a moment and listen to me. Lucilla! what does it matter about furniture and things when a man's heart is bursting?" cried the unfortunate lover; and just at that moment Miss Marjoribanks could see that the curtain was drawn aside a little -ever so little-in the glass-house. She sat down again with a sigh, and "What in the world can you When she said this, Miss Marjoribanks settled herself again in the recess of the window, so that the Miss Browns could command a full view if they chose; for Lucilla's courage was of the highest order, and nothing, except, perhaps, a strategical necessity of profound importance, would have moved her to retreat before an enemy. As for Tom, he was bewildered, to start with, by this solemn repetition of her great purpose. 66 I know how good you are, Lucilla," he said, with humility; "but then my uncle, you know-I don't think he is a man to appreciate. Oh, Lucilla ! why should you go and sacrifice to him the happiness of your life?" Tom," said Miss Marjoribanks, with some solemnity, "I wish you would not talk to me of happiness. I have always been brought up to believe that duty was happiness; and everybody has known for a long time what was the object of my life. As for poor papa, it is the worse for him if he does not understand; but that does not make any difference to my duty," said the devoted daughter. She gave a little sigh as she spoke, the sigh of a great soul, whose motives must always remain to some extent unappreciated; and the sight of her resignation and beautiful perseverance overwhelmed her unlucky suitor; for indeed, up to this moment, Lucilla still entertained the hope of preventing Tom from, the very words," which, to be sure, as she herself described it," saying are awkward words to hear and to say. 66 to my uncle, you ought to have a Lucilla, when you are so good little pity on me," said Tom, driven to the deepest despondency. "How you getting everything done here, do you think I can bear it, to see life-when you know I love you?" as if you meant to stay all your said the unfortunate young man ; "when you know I have always always looked forward to the time been so fond of you, Lucilla, and -; and now it is very hard to see you care so little for me." with indignant surprise, "how can "Tom," said Miss Marjoribanks, you say I care little for you? you know J was always very fond of you, on the contrary. I am sure I always stood your friend at home, whatever happened, and never said little pearl ring I was so fond of, a word when you broke that pretty and tore the scarf my aunt gave you can be so unkind as to say so. me. I wonder, for my part, how We have always been the very best friends in the world," said Lucilla, with an air of injury. "I always said at school I liked you the best fond of all my cousins." Miss Marof all my cousins; and I am very joribanks concluded, after a little pause; "it is so unkind to tell me that I don't care for you." Poor Tom groaned within himknow what to answer to Lucilla's self as he listened. He did not aggrieved yet frank confession of her fondness. have been much less displeasing to Naturally it would Tom to understand that she hated him, and never desired to see him any more. But Miss Marjoribanks was far from entertaining any such began to forget her anxiety about unchristian sentiments. She even what was going on up-stairs in abundant resources with which she that delightful sense of power and was mastering the present difficulty. She reflected in herself that though it was excessively annoying to be thus occupied at such a moment, still it was nearly as important to make an end of Tom as to see that the pictures were hung rightly; for, to be sure, it was always easy to return to the latter subject. Accordingly, she drew her chair a little nearer to the window, and regarded Tom with a calm gaze of benevolent interest which was in perfect accordance with the sentiments she had just expressed; a look in which a little gentle reproach was mingled. "I have always been like a sister to you," said Lucilla ; "how can you be so unkind as to say I don't care?" As for the unhappy Tom, he got up, as was natural, and took a little walk in front of the table, as a young man in trouble is apt to do. You know very well that is not what I mean, Lucilla," he said, disconsolately. "It is you who are unkind. I don't know why it is that ladies are so cruel; I am not such a snob as to persecute anybody. But what is the good of pretending not to know what I mean?" "Tom, listen!" cried Miss Marjoribanks, rising in her turn; "I feel sure they must have finished. There is Mr Holden going through the garden. And everybody knows that hanging pictures is just the thing of all others that requires a person of taste. If they have spoiled the room, it will be all your fault." 66 Oh, for heaven's sake, never mind the room!" said Tom. "I never thought you would have trifled with a man, Lucilla. You know quite well what I mean; you know it isn't a―a new thing," said the lover, beginning to stammer and get confused. "You know that is what I have been thinking of all along, as soon as ever I had anything to live on. I love you, Lucilla; you know I love you! how can you trifle with me so?" "It is you who are trifling," said Miss Marjoribanks, "especially when you know I have really something of importance to do. You can come up-stairs with me if you like. Of course we all love each other. What is the good of being relations otherwise?" said Lucilla, calmly; "it is such a natural thing, you know. I suppose it is because you are going away that you are so affectionate to-day. It is very nice of you, I am sure; but, Tom, I feel quite certain you have not packed your things," Miss Marjoribanks added, in an admonitory tone. Come along with me up-stairs." 66 And by this time Lucilla's curiosity was beginning again to get the upper hand. If she only could have escaped, it would have been impossible for her cousin to have renewed the conversation; and luckily he was to leave Carlingford the same evening; but then a man is always an inconsequent creature, and not to be calculated on. time, instead of obeying as usual, Tom-having, as Miss Marjoribanks afterwards described (but only in the strictest confidence), "worked himself up to it"-set himself directly in her way, and seized upon both her hands. This "Lucilla," cried the unlucky fellow, "is it possible that you really have misunderstood me all this time? Do you mean to say that you don't know? Oh, Lucilla, listen just five minutes. It isn't because I am your cousin. I wish to heaven I was not your cousin, but some one you had never seen before. I mean I want you to consent to-to-to-marry me, Lucilla. That is what I mean. am called to the bar, and I can work for you, and make a reputation. Lucilla, listen to what I have got to say." Γ Miss Marjoribanks left her hands in his with a calmness which froze poor Tom's heart in his breast. She did not even take the trouble to draw them away. "Have you gone out of your senses, Tom?" she |