the stream, a wooded bank, a thousand flowers, a thousand birds-all seemed to speak to the heart.

Tremaine was alone: he had left his carriage and servants at Limoges, in the Limousin: and in a fit of musing, but not of moping melancholy-and, it may be added, in a fit of exertion not over common with him— he had resolved to explore this part of France on horseback,-where, however, the landscapes were much more beautiful than the roads were good.

He took with him only a French guide for a servant. His loneliness soothed but did not oppress him; for he had lately been plunged in the very depths of French dissipation; and a solitary walk in such a scene seemed at this moment the most suited to his taste of anything in the world. His heart expanded to the touch of nature; but yet there was a void in it.

"Is it not strange," said he to himself as he surveyed the landscape, "that I should always be viewing these scenes by myself, and that, at eight and twenty, the loveliest part of the creation should to me still be as nothing?"

He thought over all the fair beings to whom he had ever felt inclined, regretting none of them, and began to think (to him a strange speculation) that in the upper ranks, though there was more elegance of manner, there was less of that real feeling which constitutes the love he sighed to meet with. He seemed even to think there might be more probability of finding it in the middling, perhaps even in the lower classes of society. "What signifies it," continued he, "where I meet with it? Will not my own rank elevate and illustrate whomsoever I please ?"

The murmur of the water had now subsided a few minutes, when from the other side of a hedge of sweet shrubs, which inclosed a small garden, his ear was struck with sounds which in that place absolutely astonished him.

It was the voice of a young female reading Milton in English, with a tone and feeling which, even in England,

would have been charming. Another voice now and then interposing, showed that the reader was not alone; and the few sentences that passed, proved the persons to be mother and daughter.

The passage which Tremaine last heard, was that so well known, beginning with,

Sweet is the breath of morn, &c.

The young unknown read it with a tenderness which did not fail to strike on the heart of the hearer, any more than the observation that followed. "Oh! my dear mother, what happiness is here described; and how does my heart swell whenever I think of such conjugal tenderness! If ever I have a husband, oh! how I shall

love him!"

"'Tis well, my dear," replied the mother, "that we are alone else such a speech, though the most natural in the world, might subject you to ill-natured interpretations. You are so naïve and so young, that people who did not know, might not understand you. But Heaven forbid, my dear Eugenia, that you should not express your feelings before your mother."

"Ah!” replied Eugenia with a sigh, "how can it be wrong to express one's feelings before any one?"

Deeply did these words impress themselves on Mr. Tremaine, and willingly would he have heard more; but while a vague thought struck upon his mind, that here was a pure unsophisticated being, such as his fancy had coveted, he felt himself in the situation of a listener; and therefore, merely with a view to show that some one was nigh, he began to call aloud in English to a spaniel he had with him.

His voice alarmed the two recluses, who immediately left their seats; yet struck with curiosity to know how a countryman could be so near them in such a part of the world.

The curiosity was at the and no least partaken; very wonder, therefore, as the ladies had to cross the road from the garden to their house, that no designed retreat on either side prevented their meeting. Tremaine, indeed,

seeing them at the little gate which led from the garden, hastened to open it for them; and the politeness of his air, as well as his animated manner, struck both the ladies. But as they curtsied their thanks, and were retreating to the house, he began to think he should lose them; so without ceremony (a thing not at all surprising in France), he accosted them in English.

"Is it possible," said he, "that I have the pleasure of seeing two of my countrywomen, and two such country-women, in a village in Auvergne ?"

The air and look of interest with which he uttered this were not lost upon either lady. The elder, though pleased, regarded it as common gallantry; but it went deep into the very heart of the younger, whose cheek it suffused with blushes. It was a very lovely cheek, and fancy might revel long before it created its fellow. With a simplicity which seemed to make concealment of any one emotion impossible, there was yet a bashfulness about this young person, which appeared to demand protection and encouragement; and what it demanded was asked in a manner so gentle, and at the same time so frank, that Tremaine was perfectly charmed by it.

With his admiration, too, all his faculties were called forth; and as few exceeded him in good breeding, and both mother and daughter were of a character peculiarly alive to it, a very little, and very common conversation, on such topics as the occasion of their meeting and the beauty of the place inspired, made the three parties better acquainted in ten minutes, than the common scenes of the world could in a week.

They entered a little court before the house (which was a sort of moderate château in the old French style), full of flowers, en parterre, backed by espaliers and beds of strawberries; and while Tremaine was complimenting them on the agreeableness of their retreat, two very young, sprightly, and pretty girls ran out to greet mamma, telling her that their supper of fruit and cream was ready.

The admiration which these lively children drew from Tremaine won still more upon the elder lady; while his whole manner and language, and particularly the soft

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,
May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet.

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.