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 an hedge of sweet shrubs, which enclosed 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, shewed 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 shew 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 very least partaken; and no 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 countrywomen, 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 softness 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

VOL. I.

spoke, marked an attention, more gratifying perhaps to those who conversed, than if she had joined in the discourse.

The place prompted the subject of retirement, and something was said by Tremaine on the inefficacy of the world to ensure happiness, and the better chances there seemed to be of finding it, by living up to the dignity of nature in such a retreat.

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 the very soul of Tremaine. 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 its turn with a pleasure, that more and more impressed in his 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.