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.

CHAP. 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 intreated 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 as 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."

1

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.

༄ རྙིད་བཞི་ ཟླ ཝཱ ཝཱ

In truth, all the three were animated with a romantic spirit; the ladies, perhaps, even more than the gentleman; and 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