make way for the bridal veil of exquisite Chantilly lace! And Alicia Sutherland had been brideswoman, and John Vere had been present at the wedding; also his cousin Claude, who was more delightful than ever; and there had been splendid festivities, and several persons had wished that I had been present on the auspicious occasion.

I was very glad to have been far away, for I was quite tired of hearing about marriages, and I went downstairs determined to write that day on the most prosaic subjects, especially eschewing all that had the remotest reference to courtship and holy matrimony.

But that morning I was destined to write very little about anything; for a little before noon I was told that a gentleman was waiting to see me, and his card being put in my hand, I read my brother's name, "Mr. Eustace Charteris."

I ran downstairs, and, forgetting the lapse of time that had intervened since last we met, half expected to see the beautiful, saucy boy from whom I had parted more than five long years before. But the rosyfaced, imperious child was gone, and a remarkably handsome, haughty patrician-looking youth stood in his place. He was tall and slim, and moved with an exquisite grace, inherited from our beautiful mother, whose elegance of figure and carriage almost surpassed her loveliness of feature and complexion. I went to him holding out both my hands, but he made but one step across the room, caught me in his arms, and gave me the most thorough kissing I had ever in my life undergone.

that

"Well! Evelyn, old girl! I am glad to see you!" he cried, when he had subsided into something like his ordinary state of composure. "I've been coming to see you for an age; a splendid move of yours, coming up to town! Let dowdies and simpletons cry 'O Rus! 0 Rus! There's no place like London for life, and thoroughly enjoying one's self!"

I took him into my own little sanctum, that we might not be interrupted; and when I had placed him in my easiest chair and poked up the fire for the morning, though bright, was chilly-he looked about him with an air of evident approval and satisfaction.

"I say, Evelyn," he began, "this is a jolly little crib of yours; a fellow might have worse quarters. 'Pon my soul you are a lucky girl, Evy, now aren't you ?"

"No, I have nothing to do with luck, or luck with me; luck and chance are ternis fit only for a heathen's vocabulary. I have worked hard, and waited patiently, and God has blessed my labours, and given me a success beyond all that I ever dared to anticipate that is it, Eustace."

"Come, now, Evelyn, that's going it strong; a dose of religion at the very outset. We Eton fellows are not exactly pious, you

know."

"I am afraid not." "Why need you be afraid? By Jove, you don't want to make a "Methody parson' of me, do you? Just fancy me in seedy black, with

I took him into my own little sanctum, that we might not be interrupted; and when I had placed him in my easiest chair and poked up the fire-for the morning, though bright, was chilly-he looked about him with an air of evident approval and satisfaction."-Page 98.

a white choker, and a face as long as to-day and to-morrow, quoting Scripture through my nose, and drinking tea with the old women, and hearing all their experiences spiritual and rheumatic! Just fancy me turning shepherd!"

"I really cannot fancy it, Eustace; you would be a sad disgrace to the Methodies,' as you call them; in fact, they would never receive you into their Society."

"The dickens they wouldn't! Well! I'm not going to try them. I shouldn't like to put too much temptation in their way. Besides I'm a staunch Churchman; dearly beloved brethren,' and the collect

for the fourteenth Sunday after Epiphany for me."

"Eustace!" "Evelyn!"

"Let us talk of something else; I do not like joking about serious subjects."

"Well! I call that insulting. Joking, indeed! I never was more serious in my life. I profess my attachment to the church of my fathers, and my aversion to all canting beggars, and you cannot believe that I speak rationally. My dear child, I'm not little Eustace now, flying his kites, and swopping his puppies. I'm a man!”

"You look very much like one, I must confess; but, Eustace, you have not given me an opportunity of answering your question."

"What question ?"

'Why I should be afraid of your not being 'exactly pious?" " 'Well; why should you? What has a fellow of my age to do with piety?"

'What has a fellow of your age to do with happiness ?"

"By Jove, everything. But where's the connection between happiness and piety? early piety' I suppose it would be called in my case, if I vent to prayer-meetings, and sniffled and turned up my eyes, and said the world was so wicked I wondered it hadn't been burnt up years and years ago."

"That will do; you are no more competent to describe 'early piety' than I to write a graphic volume on the steppes of Russia. Let us keep to the question; you ask me the connection between piety and happiness, and I tell you they are identical."

"Whew! Now, Evelyn, it's too bad, your setting up for a saint; identical indeed!"

"Will you answer one question, Eustace ?”

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A hundred, if I can spare the time; out with it!"

"But I want the truth-the very truth."

He flushed up.

"Bless me, Evelyn, for what do you take me? am I not a gentleman born and bred? Of course, if I answer you at all, I shall speak the truth. There are some things I would not tell you if you catechised me till

next Christmas; it is not necessary that women-mothers and sisters; no, nor wives—should know all a man's affairs. Come, question away; go ahead!"

"Are you happy ?"

"Is that all? Hang it! no, then! Twenty times no, my dear. How should I be happy, situated as I am, I should like to know! I'm the miserablest and unluckiest dog within the four seas."

Why? what is the matter ?"

"The matter, everything! I've a deadly disease in my pocket, to begin with. That confounded old idiot

29

Eustace, I will not have such language! Please to remember that you are talking to a lady."

'Hey day! how you flash up! You are a bit of a vixen yet, I can see."

"And vixens have a decided objection to bad language; therefore, take heed, and do not use expletives, or swear by heathen deities."

"Good gracious me! Why I generally swear by "George!" and he was a blessed saint, I reckon, and killed a green dragon, with a yellow tail." "You are very rude to interrupt me so frequently: they do not teach manners at Eton, I perceive. You will be good enough, while talking to me, not to swear by anything, or anybody, nor to call people names." "Oh dear! what a nuisance you are. Well! I'll try to be con formable for a few minutes. What was I talking about?-oh, about that con-- beg pardon, that old miser and rogue, Sir Michael Westbourne."

"Our mother's husband ?"

"Yes, to be sure! I say, Evelyn, wasn't she a precious ninny to have him ?"

"I know nothing about it; but she is our mother, and we have no right to criticise her conduct."

"Oh! I dare say! I've given her a piece of my mind time many a before to-day. It is all very well for you, Evelyn, an independent lady, doing what you like, and spending what you please, and going your own way. But I am in a different position; I have not a penny of my own, and that niggard, Sir Michael, makes me an allowance fit only for a washerwoman's son,-and I an Eton man!"

"Mamma told me you were always teazing her for money, and she also said how much Sir Michael allowed you; now I think you ought to make it do."

"That's very fine! But you women know nothing of a man's expenses his necessary expenses, mind. I'm in a very good set at Eton, and I can't keep up my position without money."

"Mamma thought you were in anything but a good set; she said your extravagance was terrible, and she dared not ask Sir Michael for another sovereign.'