ness which seemed naturally to accompany every thing he addressed to her, made a deep impression upon the sensitive heart of the younger. In the conversation, her mother of course took the lead. Indeed, Eugenia said very little, but seemed to defer, with the modesty natural to her, to what fell from her seniors. But though she was silent, it was not an unobserving silence; and the changeful traits of a countenance that absolutely spoke, marked an attention, more gratifying perhaps to Tremaine, than if she had joined in the discourse. Eugenia's eyes were fixed upon his all the time he was speaking, fixed as if fascinated, yet seemingly embarrassed. But when he took his leave to go, she broke through her restraint, as if impelled by a superior power, and involuntarily exclaimed, "Oh! stay, and go on with your beautiful conversation." Such naïveté, in his then humour, touched his very soul. He gazed upon his new acquaintance, as if anxious to mark the real character of such a speech; and perceiving nothing but sincerity in a face that appeared to be candour itself, his sparkled in his turn with a pleasure that more and more impressed in its favour not only Eugenia, but her mother herself. In short, he thought no more of going; he was in form invited to stay; and he supped that evening in the garden of Mrs. Belson, with her and her children. CHAPTER IV. THE AMOUR OF A MAN OF REFINEMENT. Sweet, good night: This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, SHAKSPEARE. WHEN Tremaine consented to the invitation of Mrs. Belson, the looks of her daughter seemed to flash with pleasure. Her bosom heaved with what we should call consciousness, but that we should be really at a loss to say of what she was conscious, unless of present, and surely of innocent enjoyment. Suddenly, however, rising up, she said she would desire her sisters to pick the freshest strawberries for their repast, and would herself go to the dairy for cream. Tremaine entreated she would not leave them. "Oh !" said she, "I shall be back in an instant; only do not talk much till I return, particularly about England. Do not let him, mamma." She then sprang like a doe across the lawn, and was out of sight in a moment. "I think," said Tremaine, "I never saw such alacrity of kindness; such apparently genuine feeling; or such delicious naïveté in shewing it. Perhaps, too, I might add, if it were not to her mother, I never saw such beauty -certainly such expression." "She is all she seems," said Mrs. Belson; "but she is particularly animated just now, from meeting a countryman so unexpectedly; and this will, I hope, explain to you the appearance of a frankness of manner, which in England could only belong to an old acquaintance.” Then changing her tone a little, she added, "Indeed, I feel as if I stood in need of the same apology myself, for this sudden invitation to a person of whose existence I knew not a few minutes ago, and with whose very name I am even now unacquainted." She said this inquiringly: and Tremaine found it necessary to announce his name,-intimating that he was of Northamptonshire, and travelling for amusement; but carefully concealing his situation in the world. Mrs. Belson, who had heard of his family, found he was at least a gentleman; and felt that all he had said, looked, or done, bespoke the man of fashion. Her civilities, therefore, were not lessened by the knowledge of his name, which she communicated to Eugenia as soon as she returned. "What a beautiful name!" said Eugenia, fixing her eyes again upon his. A very animated conversation now ensued, in which Mrs. Belson shewed both talent and cultivation, and in which, it may be supposed, Tremaine was not deficient. He frequently appealed to his new acquaintance, as if desirous of drawing her out; and though she was too bashful to hazard much of remark, it seemed to him (and it gave him pleasure) that her mind was disposed to be the very echo of his own. man; In truth, all the three were animated with a romantic spirit; the ladies, perhaps, even more than the gentleand of the ladies, the elder scarcely less than the younger. The only difference between them on this point seemed to be, that the habits of the world had taught Mrs. Belson a little (and but a little) wariness, in the expression of feelings, which her daughter was only restrained by modesty from indulging to the utmost. At any rate, the evening was a charming one to Tremaine, and the village clock had struck ten (a late hour in France) before he judged it necessary to take his leave. Eugenia gave a sigh when he motioned to go; and, as the moon shone bright, proposed to her mother to accompany their guest to the end of the lane that led from their house to the auberge. Mrs. Belson smiled; Tremaine was delighted; and giving each lady an arm, felt more interested than he had for years. When they came to the end of their walk, Tremaine, on taking leave, said, "My dear madam, how is it possible for me to thank you for perhaps the most charming evening I ever spent!" Eugenia's heart throbbed at the words, and she was not a little pleased at her mother's answering, with goodhumoured ease, "By trying whether the morning may not prove as pleasant as the evening. I should be sorry that the first should be also the last day of our acquaintance." On Tremaine's expressing his intention of profiting by her kindness, Eugenia exclaimed,-"Oh! then, we shall see him again!" and she actually clapped her hands with pleasure. Her mother smiling, said, ""Tis the strangest girl! She knows not how to conceal an emotion!" "Heaven forbid she should,” exclaimed Tremaine ; and the parties separated for the night. CHAPTER V. THE SUBJECT CONTINUED. I pray, Sir, tell me is it possible That love should of a sudden take such hold? SHAKSPEARE. RETURNED to his inn, it was late before Tremaine could seek his bed, and then not to sleep. "She is by far the most interesting young creature," said he to himself, "I ever met with. If Nature ever yet spoke in person, she is here." He turned, and turned again in his bed, and attempted to close his eyes; but Eugenia was ever before them. Who she was, and what she was, were questions he did not fail to ask himself. But it mattered not, he said; it was evident that both mother and daughter were, in mind and manners, far removed from vulgar life, if they might not belong to his own sphere. He went on to hazard a hundred conjectures of another nature. Eugenia seemed all sensibility; had she ever loved, or was her heart virgin? It seemed made for love! But could she love him? It must be owned, he had gone very far indeed when he reached this topic; not that it was very distinct even to his own mind: it however floated there, with a thousand other vague thoughts; the only thing certain to his consciousness being, that he had met with a person, who, to the most lovely beauty he had ever seen, appeared to join all that simplicity and truth of nature which his heart had so long and so fondly coveted. Eugenia, on her part, was scarcely less restless. She loitered long with her mother, to talk of their extraordi nary adventure. "Was there ever any thing so elegant, so noble, as their guest! such propriety, yet such softness! so perfect a gentleman! so fraught with good taste, and every virtue !" How "That last is going very far," said her mother: we must see much more of him before we can judge of that." "Oh! I'm sure of it," said Eugenia. "What happiness to be his friend! and to be called his friend! kind to a mere cottage girl! Oh, mother, if he stays here, I shall love him too well-I already prefer him to all the world!" The next morning brought Tremaine to their gate. His young friend was there already. "I have been looking for you all the morning," said she, "and am so glad." Tremaine again felt a little amazed; but perceiving, as she said this, a glowing cheek, a sparkling eye, and a form evidently agitated with pleasure, he could only give credence to this flattering appearance, and bless his good fortune for having thrown in his way such a study for his heart, in its present pursuit. It is needless to pursue the detail of this part of the narrative. It is sufficient that the day afforded the same delight to all the party as the preceding evening had done; and that Tremaine passed it, and the day after that, and the next, and the next, with his new friends, in a manner to confirm all his notions of Eugenia's sensibility, as well as his conviction that he alone was its absorbing object. He gathered, however (contrary to the course of romance), that there was nothing very remarkable either in Eugenia's situation or history. Mrs. Belson was in fact the widow of a gentleman of merit, but in middle life. She had made herself what she was by the force of her own talent and observation, and had retired to this province, in order the better to conduct the education of her children. To do Mr. Tremaine justice, this weighed either nothing, or very little with him. He had all his life long sought for a virgin heart, and an unsophisticated mind, which he might be able to attach to his own, for his own |