of the personal advantages of an inferior of the opposite sex! Even with this belief, Mrs. Villaroy did not quite give up the idea of the ultimate success of the splendid and surpassing beauty of Eric. She felt, with some vexation, that she had put herself out of the way of furthering his cause; but she trusted that his father would still watch over it. Her experience could name many marriages which were entirely owing to failure in other quarters; and in all matters in which her own interests were concerned there was a sanguine adherence to hope, with much pertinacity in endeavour, that made her still trust all would ultimately turn out as she desired. Her attention was soon, however, called to other circumstances, and newlyawakened interests.

When Mr. Colyton had led Mrs. Villaroy to the dining-room, and the other guests had

followed with a due regard to their relative positions, a movement full of difficulty where no actual rank existed, and only to be skilfully arranged by an habituée of Dublin Castle, Dan Colyton had given his arm to the rather plain, rather ill-dressed, and yet interesting Yolande Villaroy.

Their talk during dinner was trifling enough; consisting merely of Miss Villaroy telling Mr. Colyton it always rained in Devonshire; and he in his turn informing her that such was usually the case in hilly countries. Their thoughts of each other had been nearly as scanty; his had been confined to the idea of the exceeding beauty of her hand, and to the enormous dinner she was eating; hers to the fact of his dulness, and the contradiction, that although the intensity of his affection for his mother was quoted in every quarter, he addressed her

harshly, and always as Mrs. Colyton,-the endearing name of mother never passing his lips.

The dinner was finished. An awkward, but magnificently-attired footman, had been dropping his cold aiguillettes on all the ladies' shoulders, to their infinite discomfort, while engaged in the task of removing the crumbs from the table-cloth with a silver brush; apparently ignorant that the thing could be arranged with more simple machinery. The dainties of the dessert had been all handed, and yet Colyton spoke not. At last Miss Villaroy said abruptly, "Why don't you talk of your travels, Mr. Colyton ?"

He looked at her for a moment with those light-blue Irish eyes, which seem to tell everything, and yet hide beneath their lucidity as much of Irish mystery as their famous lake, with all its fairy legends; and

then said quietly, "If I were to do So, Miss Villaroy would be the first to say of me, as Pepys did of his friend Mr. Sheres-'A good, ingenious man-but do talk a little too much of his travels.'"

"I do not think I should. It seems to me that people who undertake the distinction of Eastern travel, should submit to the task of telling their adventures.”

"How should you like them done up?" he asked, "à la Martineau-or like Eöthen, au naturel?"

"Certainly not like Miss Martineau." "Why not? She is a clever woman ?" "Oh! yes-clever and good. That is, good from instinct and inclination; from no higher motive."

"How do you know this?"

"From her writings. It is proved by her every word, whenever she gets from the

things of this world to those of heaven. She limits the powers of God to her own and her fellow-rationalists' conceptions of divinity. This is very mischievous. Would any one do good, do you think, or crush the evil of their hearts, for the sake of propitiating a Deity of whose doings Miss Martineau flatters herself she knows all the machinery ?"

"Ah! I always miss passages of fancy theology, particularly from the pen of a female. Her little affectations are the only faults I bring against Miss Martineau. After words which evidently show that she takes a higher swoop into this world's wisdom than women usually compass, she has a trick of suddenly dropping down on a pudding, or a mop, or on some squalid thing, to show her womanhood, and thus enhance the effect of her sapience."

"Do you like Eöthen, Mr. Colyton?"