Tremaine shook his head; a smile, and then something like a sigh, escaped him. Evelyn fixed his eyes upon him, as if endeavouring to make him out. "I am sorry, my friend," said he, "to hear you say this."

"How can it be otherwise," returned his guest, "than that an experienced man should feel differently from youth?"

"In knowledge of the world, I grant ye," said Evelyn," and when we are really old and blunted in the feelings of nature. But that is not the case yet with me, much less with you. I no longer, indeed, think of some goddess of a mistress, when I stand under a tree and listen to the nightingale; but the notes themselves, and the stillness and freshness of evening, can lull me as much as ever."

"It is mere imagination," said Tremaine. "And pray what is it in a youth ?" asked Evelyn. વ Reality," answered his guest.

"And who is to judge?"

"The heart."

"Agreed, for it is the heart tells me I can still feel."

"I thought," said Tremaine, drily, "you had been absorbed in the Bible and acts of parliament !"

"As for the one," replied the rector, "I know not the heart that would not be mended by it; but, neither in the one nor the other am I absorbed. I

just take enough of both to fit myself the better to enjoy what we are talking of, whether in such passages as this of Guarini, or the realities which he only describes; these flowers, this sun, and all the glories of the spring; and pardon me if I suspect, my good friend, that it is the having quaffed too largely of what ought only to be sipped, that has made you lose your relish for it.”

Tremaine assured him he was wrong, and that it was only the disappointments which attended all the promises of the spring, that had induced him to make the observation; and "I would appeal," added he, "even to the fresher feelings of Miss Evelyn herself, for the correctness of this opinion.”

Georgina, thus called upon, answered with some hesitation,

"It is true, there are disappointments in some of the promises of spring, but I hope not in all: and as I take care not to raise my expectations too high, what the spring does not perform cannot make me love her the less for what she does. Besides, it is the very variety of the seasons that makes them please most. Were primroses never to fade, I should grow tired of them; and if there were no fears or labour in a garden, it would lose much of its pleasure when fears have passed away, and labour has succeeded."

Tremaine's looks became clouded. He found

that a volume had been spoken in these few words, and that, however simple, nay, trite the sentiment, it had gone the whole length of his own case, in accounting for the little pleasure he had found in his garden, after his high expectations from it. He seized his hat, looked at his watch, and was preparing to take his leave, when Evelyn asked him how the business of the inclosure went on. He made a wry face, and observed, that there were so many jarring interests to reconcile, so much selfishness to contend with, that he despaired of surmounting the difficulties of his case.

"That illness has been unfortunate," said Evelyn, with a scrutinizing eye," in more ways than one."

"Extremely so," returned Tremaine; "for in this instance, if it had not prevented me from attending to letters of business, I should not now have to get over the legal forms, upon which illiberal people hold me at arm's length. One man in particular, though only a yeoman, refuses all accommodation, for no reason, I believe, but that he may say he does not care for the 'Squire."

"A good, sturdy, English reason," observed Evelyn;" and yet, if you mean farmer Ryecroft, of Velvet Mead, he is, though rough, not without goodnature."

"You know him?" said Tremaine.

"He is one of the best of my parishioners,” returned the doctor, "comes punctually to church, and pays every man his own.'

"He did not pay me," rejoined Tremaine, " for being merely thrown out on a point of form, F looked upon what I wanted as my own."

"He, perhaps, thought otherwise," said Evelyn, "and, though he might be wrong, chose to exert his birth-right of thinking for himself. At any rate, you possibly claimed a due, instead of asking a favour."

"I know not how that was," said Tremaine; "I left it all to my lawyer."

"My good friend," answered Evelyn, kindly, "why did you leave it all to your lawyer? Forgive me when I ask, what could have prevented your doing it yourself?-Velvet Mead, is I know, within one of your nearest manors, and a pleasant ride to boot. Your health, as well as your purse, might have been served by it."

Tremaine very frankly confest that he had more than once thought of it, but being engaged in his library, he had put it off, and at length deputed his agent.

"Why, if indeed the business that engaged you was so pressing," said Evelyn, inquiringly.

"A pamphlet on the Catholic question," answered Tremaine.

"Very good; but which you had probably studied in town, when that question came on."

"I own," returned his friend, "it was because I had not studied it then, that I thought I would do so now."

"Now, that you have seceded from parliament? said Evelyn.

The observation did not please.

"Have you courage enough," continued the doctor, not seeming to mind his little embarrassment, "to go forthwith to Velvet Mead, and let me accompany you? And, if you will but unbend a little, I think we shall succeed."

" I am afraid I'm too angry with the man," said Tremaine, “ and at any rate cannot fawn."

"Fawning is out of the question,” observed his friend; " and as you have slighted, perhaps you have no right to be angry with him."

“I will do what you please," said Tremaine, "but not now; to-morrow or next day will do; at present, I really have not time."

66

Forgive me, my dear Sir, and set it not down to impertinence, if I ask what demands you have upon this same time, to prevent a thing so pressing?"

Tremaine recollecting himself, found that if he that instant returned home, he should not know what to do with himself. He felt confused, and shewed his confusion; till at length he said, "you