soon."

WHEN Ellen returned to the drawing-room she found a large party of newly arrived guests assembled, and as the gentlemen left the table soon it was not long before the necessary arrangements for music, which was to be the first entertainment of the evening, took place, and Charles was told by Mrs. Ainslie, that his musical powers would be put in requisition, till his quadrille dancing was equally wanted. "I am glad," whispered Charles to Ellen, "that this music begins so early, as I must go away to other parties -"Indeed!" said Ellen, forcing a smile, "you are quite à fashionable man, I see!"-"I flatter myself I am,' ," he replied, with a self sufficient look; and, as he turned away to promise Mrs. Ainslie that he would sing after the pianoforte lesson was over, he did not hear the deep sigh of poor Ellen, Charles sung a duet with a young lady whom he had met at other places, and he sung so pleasantly that he was pressed to sing a song. He consented on condition that Ellen would accompany him. She would fain have refused from mere timidity, but the wish to oblige him, and enable him to shine, conquered her repugnance, and she sat down to the instrument; but Charles was any thing but encouraging to her.

"I declare," he said, " you don't play near so well as you did at R." Sometimes she played too loud, then too soft, sometimes too slow, sometimes too fast; however, she was at last piqued into indifference to his censure, and Mandeville's ill-humour vanished in the gratifying "bravo's" and " charming," which attended his own success, and showed no consciousness in the hearers of Ellen's failures. At length the song ended, and Ellen gladly rose ; but, while every one else murmured and applauded Charles, the lip which his petulance had paled uttered no word of praise, and the mortified and indignant girl retired to her seat in silence.

In a few minutes Charles was en

treated to sing again, and he asked Ellen to accompany him again. "No-I will not," was her cold and firm reply. "Why not, Ellen ?" "Because I know I cannot please you, therefore I will not give fruitless pain to myself." In vain he urged her, Ellen was resolute; and Charles, on a lady's saying that she had heard Mr. Mandeville sing sweetly without music, ceased to importune her, and sung unaccompanied. When he had ended his song, which was loudly applauded, preparations were made for dancing quadrilles, and Ellen hoped that Charles would come eagerly forward to request her to dance with him; but he staid so long in the next room that when he did approach her for that purpose she was already engaged; and, to her still greater mortification, he neither looked nor expressed regret, nor did he engage her for the next dances. As Ellen was not in the same set with Charles she could not have the satisfaction of seeing him dance, though she had the mortification of observing that he had selected for his partner the finest and most fashionable looking girl in the room. The quadrille was succeeded by a Spanish dance, in both of which Charles's dancing was thought equal to his singing. At the end of the last dance, when he had quitted his partner, Charles ap proached Ellen, and she hoped he was going to ask her to dance with him; but he told her he was very sorry, but really he could stay no longer. "Oh! very well," said Ellen, trying to speak, and look cheerfully. Mrs. Ainslie now joined them, saying, "I suppose you are come to lead this dear girl to the dance now, Mr.Mandeville."-Upon my word I should have been most happy, but unfortunately"-"She is engaged, I suppose."" No, but I am; that is, I must go, though most reluctantly. My presence is imperiously demanded at two parties this evening, near Grosvenor-square, and I fear I shall be waited for, as

I have to sing one or two trios at one place, and to dance a new quadrille at another."-" But it is very early for any party in Grosvenorsquare, and surely the delight of dancing with Ellen is temptation enough even to excuse your being vainly expected for a few minutes. The heart has its claims as well as other things, Mr. Mandeville.""Oh, yes; Oh, dear, yes," said Mandeville, looking very silly, “but”—“ I beg," cried Ellen, proudly, "that you will let my Cousin please himself; I resign all right to keep him here."

Nay, but Ellen, you are unjust; I am sure I wish to stay. Well, (look ing at his watch) there is time for one quadrille. Will you do me the honour," offering his arm. Ellen looked at Mrs. Ainslie, who made her a sign to accept it, and he led her to the set. But he gave himself the air of dancing with languid indifference, and sometimes only walked through the figure. "You did not dance thus with your last partner," said Ellen, indignantly. "No-but I am sparing myself now for my next party; besides, what a fine dancer, and what a fine fashionable girl that partner was! but not so pretty as you, Ellen," he added, seeing her change colour, and look as if she had a mind to sit down. These words uttered in a faultering tone, assisted Ellen to recover her self, and she resolved that he should not, if she could help it, again perceive the mortification which he inflicted.

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dancing was resumed. Ellen listened with almost breathless anxiety for his answer, and felt sick at heart when he replied, "Certainly, Sir, I was going, but I will stay and sing to your noble guests." He was then presented to her and her daughters. Mrs. Ainslie said in a whisper to Ellen, "I thought Mr. Mandeville said that he could not stay a moment longer!"-" He even told me so, but"-"I see I understand, she replied; "he can stay for vanity, but not for affection." Alas! that is only too true, thought Ellen; and she seated herself where Charles could not see her, lest he should ask her to accompany him. But he did not; a ballad without music was requested, and Charles complied.

Lady Jane and her fair daughters were delighted; Charles was applauded to the skies ;-another song was requested, was granted, equally extolled, and a third earnestly solicited; but now Mandeville's vanity made him desire to show off in something more difficult, and he looked round for Ellen that she might accompany him; but at this moment her good genius, in the shape of Mrs. Ainslie, stept forward to her rescue; for that lady declared that she could not allow any further trespass on Mr. Mandeville's time and indulgence, for she knew he was eager to take flight to the upper regions, where he was anxiously expected; therefore he could not afford to give more time to the lower ones, and must instantly set off for the neighbourhood of Grosvenor-square. "I really am willing to stay," stammered out Mandeville, provoked, yet ashamed; for he felt that though Mrs. Ainslie's words were flattering her tone was sarcastic; but she interrupted him with," Not a word; the more willing you are to indulge us the more incumbent it, is on us not to abuse that good nature; and I am sure Lady Jane is too generous to desire a pleasure purchased by disappointment to others."-" Certainly I would on no account detain Mr. Mandeville, but I hope to have the pleasure of seeing and hearing him in Grosvenor-place." Charles bowed, blushed, murmured out, "You do me great honour-happy to wait on you," and, having once met the sarcastic look of Mrs.

Ainslie, was glad to escape out of the room, without daring to raise his conscious eyes to Ellen, who now, spite of herself, came forward in hopes of receiving a kind farewell, for Ellen knew they should not meet the next day, as Charles was to dine in the country, and was not to return till late. But he was gone in a moment, without one adieu, either looked or spoken! However, he was no longer there to excite or disappoint her expectations in any way, and Ellen felt relieved, though saddened; but the attentions of a very agreeable partner, who talked to her of Sir Henry Claremont and his virtues, and delicately hinted that he had obtained an invitation to the party that evening, merely to be presented to her, as Sir Henry wished him to have the honour of knowing Miss Mortimer, diverted her thoughts from the unworthy engrosser of them, and the rest of the evening passed away pleasantly to her; but, when she retired to bed, she repeated to herself Mrs. Ainslie's forcible words: "yes, yes; he can stay for vanity, but not for affection."

The next day, when Ellen rose, she said to herself, "well, I cannot hope to see him to-day!" and was surprized at finding that a degree of repose stole over her feelings at the idea; for as it was no longer a pleasure only to expect him, but anxiety, and the dread of mortification now mingled with that pleasure, she was conscious that her harrassed mind was soothed by the certainty that for some hours, at least, she should be able to feel entirely alive to the enjoyments of the passing day, should really observe the ob jects and sights presented to her eyes, and be able to profit by the opportunities afforded her of seeing London. "Good girl," said Mrs. Ainslie, when she returned to dine and dress for the Theatre, "I am quite satisfied with you to-day, Ellen; and I really believe you will turn out to be the sensible girl I always thought you." Ellen, as Charles was not present, was wholly absorbed in the illusion of the scene at Covent-garden, and as much charmed as Mrs. Ainslie wished her to be with all she saw and heard; till, just before the farce began, a

gentleman who had joined their party said to Mrs. Ainslie, "I expected to see Mandeville here, for he told me he should come hither if he returned in any tolerable time from the country, and did not go to Lady D's."-"Depend on it, if he does return, he will go to Lady D's." replied Mrs. Ainslie, in a tone which Ellen well understood. However, this conversation had awakened in her a faint hope of seeing him; and, instead of attending any longer to what was passing on the stage, she was looking round every time her own box door opened, or looking into the boxes opposite, or near her, to discover the object which even yet was, as usual, dearer to her than any other in creation; but not as usual did her judgment go along with her partiality; she felt that her heart and her head were now at variance; and that Charles Mandeville of London was very inferior to the Charles Mandeville of R-. But vainly did Elen look for Charles, he came not, and the curtain dropt.

"I conclude Mandeville did not return from the country in time," said his friend. "On the contrary, I conclude that he did, and is now singing and dining at Lady D's," replied Mrs. Ainslie; while pensive, and disappointed, and silent, Ellen walked to the carriage. Mrs. Ainslie followed her into her room that night, and, seeing her melancholy countenance, kindly took her hand, and told her that she knew very well what was passing in her mind; and that she hoped she would see the necessity, which pride and delicacy equally imposed on her, to cease to feel so tenderly towards a man who evidently had no longer any tender attachment for her. "But is it possible that he can so soon, and for ever, have ceased to love me?" cried Ellen, melting into tears: "why, if you had heard how he reproached my uncle for his cruelty in not allowing us to engage ourselves to each other. Surely, surely, he does not know his own heart; and he loves me still, spite of appearances!"-" Ellen, dear child of my dearest friend, listen to me with calmness,” said Mrs. Ainslie; "believe me, that real and faithful love is a restless feeling that cannot be satisfied without proving its existence by

constant attentions to the object of that love. The true lover prefers the society of the woman he loves to every other engagement; and to him no amusement is welcome which is unshared by her, unless she is far distant, and that he wishes to beguile part of the tediousness of absence by it. There, Ellen, I have given you a little sketch of what a true lover is; and I leave you to compare your lover with it, and see if it resembles him. I beg leave to add, that I advise you also to compare Sir Henry Claremont's assiduity with your cousin's, and with the sketch."—" Oh! but Sir Henry has never been exposed to the temptations of a London life since he knew me."-"True, therefore the condition on which you accept Sir Henry's addresses, and I trust you will one day accept them, shall be, that he goes and lives six months in London to try his constancy, because you shall tell him, to speak elegantly, my dear, that a burnt child dreads the fire."-" No, no; I shall never love or accept any man now," cried Ellen, her tears redoubling. "Not now."-" Oh! but I mean "_“I know what you mean; but do not believe, my sweet girl, that I laugh at you, or that I do not enter deeply into your present feelings; I only think that they ought not to last, as the object is unworthy of them; I should not say so if Sir Henry Claremont were the object, and by some strange inconsistancy of conduct were to behave to you as Mandeville does, for then I should be tempted to say, aye, you may well weep, for you have lost a treasure. What I wish on this occasion is, that you should feel your own worth, justly appreciate the value of your own tenderness, and learn to despise the heartless boy who can thus prefer town pleasures and women of fashion to you and your invaluable love. There is a speech for you, Ellen! I did not think I had been so eloquent; but, the Arabian song says, who can live with the rose without imbibing some of its sweetness;', so the wife of Ainslie must catch some of his eloquence; and thus, having ingeniously contrived to compliment both myself and my husband at once, I will bid

you good night, and join my prayers to your's, Ellen, for your being assisted through your present trial, and that you may live long and happy!"

But poor Ellen was not yet willing to resign for ever the illusions of love so long dear to her heart; however, she slept at last; and, on waking, the image of Mandeville was sometimes replaced by that of Sir Henry Claremont: that of the latter. was soon rendered more vivid to her mind's eye by the entrance of her maid with a large hamper, and a flail basket. The former contained the finest pines and mellons that she had ever seen, and the latter the most beautiful and rare hot-house flowers; but they were accompanied by no letter or note, and the direc tion was in a hand unknown. Ellen, however, could not doubt but that they came from Sir Henry, whose hothouses and pinery were the admiration of his neighbourhood. "See!" said she, with a sparkling eye and a glowing cheek, when Mrs. Ainslie entered her apartment. "And whence came they, Ellen ?" "From R-, I believe." "And who sends them?"-" There is no letter, so I only suspect the donor, and he is Sir Henry, I dare say.' '-"So dare I. Well, this is a lover if, as the man says in the play, Le vrai amphytrion est celui où l'on dine, le vrai amant est celui qui donne des ananas et des fleurs. Oh! sweet Sir Henry! I dare say he devined that I was going to have a bag - wig and feathered party to dinner to-day, and wished to be very elegant at as little expense as possible, and therefore, to bribe me to espouse his interest, he sent these gifts; for I suppose, Ellen, you do not mean to keep all the fruit to yourself, and wear all the flowers, appearing one day as Pomona and Flora the next."

Oh, no; you are welcome to them all: but-one of the flowers I mean to wear in my bosom, and another in my hair."-"Bravely resolved, and if by any at present unforeseen chance Mandeville should come, as I own I have not invited him, I beg you will tell him that you wear them for the sake of Sir Henry Claremont." The only part of this last sentence to which Ellen

attended was the assurance Mrs. Ainslie gave that she had not invited Mandeville, for till then she had hoped he was to be one of the invited guests. However, she could not help owning to herself that it was not necessary as things were for Mrs. Ainslie to invite Mandeville every day, as it was evident that all his engagements were formed, and would be pursued, without any reference to her.

The end of the morning, as usual, was spent in sight-seeing; and on their return home they drove to the same painter's as before, for Mrs. Ainslie to indulge herself in looking at Sir Henry Claremont's picture, the dear man to whom she owed the elegant additions to her deserts and her flower vases; and she saw by Ellen's countenance, when she now beheld the picture, that the original had gained ground in her favour.

The dinner went off well, but the evening would have been passed by Ellen in a state of vain expectation of him who came not had not an acquaintance of Mandeville joined the party, who informed Ellen that Charles had found the day he passed in the country so agreeable, that he had been induced to stay longer, and that he had left him there singing, dancing, and acting to the delight of every one. Ellen changed colour, sighed, was glad her cousin was so well amused, when, after a great struggle with herself, she conversed, laughed, and seemed as cheerful as usual; but she could not help saying, when she retired to rest. "This was a voluntary absence of a whole day-this was an engagement formed since my arrival! Why! why did I come to London? Yet, nothankless girl! if I had not come I might have been deceived still!"

The next day Mandeville called, and wanted to walk out with Ellen alone as he had done before, but Mrs. Ainslie would not allow it; she said that her young friend was to be with her so short a time that she could not bear to give her up a whole morning, he must, therefore accompany them if they walked. Mandeville, though he felt the reproof, coolly said, her going would encrease his pleasure and his pride; and he should be the envy of every

"Plus gallant,

one whom he met. que tendre!"" murmured Mrs. Ainslie between her teeth, and Mandeville had feeling enough to blush. "But I think," added she, "we had better go in the carriage, and order it two hours sooner than usual." Accordingly they did so; and Charles, equally attentive to both ladies, endeavoured to be most agreeable; but it was only by shewing himself attached to Ellen that he could really succeed in pleasing either lady. He, however, obtained an invitation to dinner, which, with many blushes and regrets, he declared his inability to accept, as he was engaged to dine and go to the play with some friends whom he had met in the country; and the next day he was going, he said, to

races, and thence on a tour to Windsor and Reading. But he was very sorry, indeed, to lose so much of his cousin Ellen's society, but it was her own fault-why not let him know she was coming. "Yesterday, however," said Mrs. Ainslie, “you knew she was here, and yet you staid a day longer in the country than you intended.""True; my host and hostess were so pressing, and so charming.""We think Ellen charming.' ,, So do I, I am sure," he replied; "and I hear she makes quite a sensation wherever she goes."- "She does; but I patronize the suit of only one of her adorers."-" May I ask his name."-"No-he is not here, but mourning her absence at R.”— "Indeed!" said Mandeville, blushing, for he knew of Sir Henry's addresses. "Yes, and if you had dined with us you would have seen some of his votive gifts, flowers to the fair,' adorning her hair today.""If I had, I should have stolen or trodden them underfoot." “No-that you should not," said Ellen, hastily; "I prize them too much to have allowed it."-" This looks serious," replied Mandeville with a mixed expression of conceit and mortification on his countenance, but the former prevailed; and, wishing them good morning, he left them at Albany, assuring them he would call as soon as ever he returned.

"Ellen, forgive me," said Mrs. Ainslie; but, surely it is bad taste