'No, no!' cried her companion, The Tempest is a stroke byond us, there are all sorts of mythological impossibilities at the end; not but that Scamperley might do Caliban to advantage; but stop, I have an idea at last; you shall be Beatrice, the very rôle of all others for which Nature intended you.'

'And you Benedick,' cried Florence; but it would need cleverer tricks, I assure you, than any in Much Ado about Nothing to cheat me out of my quarrelsome mood. However, I shall enjoy putting you down thoroughly in public.'

'I suppose we must have a drawing-room edition of it,' said Erle; 'I will tone it down to the proper key for amateur performers.'

'Very well, Benedick,' cried Florence, 'pray set to work at once. To-morrow, be prepared to find me scorn itself.'

The next morning, accordingly, Erle produced his cast of characters; and his companion confessed to having already spent two hours in realizing the tones and gestures of an unassailable beauty.

Presently the Underwood contingent arrived-Nelly, in a quiver of excitement, and burning to know what conclusion had been arrived at.

The play, the performers, and the parts are decided,' said Florence, gaily; and, little Nelly, Mr. Erle has been choosing an extremely pretty one for you.'

'I hope it is nothing difficult,' said Nelly; how do you know that I can act at all?'

'You will scarcely have to act,' Florence said kindly. 'We are going to have some scenes from Much Ado about Nothing, and you are to be Hero. You have only to look, just what you are-a dear, good, little innocent-first, prettily reproachful, and next, forgiving and affectionate. You know the story, of course. There is your cousin for Claudio, who is deeply in love; Mr. Erle as Benedick, and I as Beatrice, who are not at all in love; and there is Leonato-a stupid part -which papa is to have; and Don John, the wicked marplot, which we have assigned to Count Malagrida, who is very wicked, you

know, and will play it to perfection; and then, as he has got such a good voice, we are going to make him sing the song,

Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more;
Men were deceivers ever-

a sentiment which will come from him with great propriety.'

A few objections were speedily overruled. Nelly was carried off to undergo a course of theatrical tuition, and to be made more than ever the creature of Florence. Margaret, when her sister told her of the arrangement, thought neither the play nor the characters in perfect taste. The part that each had to personate seemed almost too near reality. It was an objection, however, which it might only do harm to emphasize by dwelling upon. Other people, and those the most immediately concerned, saw no objection; the Squire said not a word, and Margaret buried fears, scruples, and aversions alike, and resolved upon cheerful acquiescence in a scheme which appeared to give her sister such unbounded satisfaction. It was a disappointment, however, that the pleasant dream of home life, which for years past had formed her ideal of happiness-the companionship for which she had waited with such loving eagernessthe keen enjoyment of her sister's society, should at the very first moments of its realization, be broken in upon so effectually by invaders so little congenial or sympathetic. Could she expect-was it reasonable to hope that Nelly would be restored to her as simple, as innocent, as refined, as easy to please, as ready to love, as before her intimacy with her new friend? Who but an enemy could have so inopportunely come between them? Clyffe-so Margaret, with a half-dreary laugh, admitted to herself had become the very bugbear of her existence; and Florence was in course of promotion from the footing of vague dislike to that of acknowledged hostility and suspicion.

Margaret's alarms would certainly not have diminished could she have known the interior of the enemy's camp, and the real tone of the life

to which the two cousins were now to be familiarly introduced. Rehearsals, of course, were to be gone through, and each rehearsal necessitated an increased intimacy, gave Florence a more complete insight into the character of both, and a more thorough hold upon her protegée. Nelly's admiration was the more intense, because she only half understood a great deal of what she heard and saw. The rapid stream of brilliant talk swept noisily past her, impressed her with an increased thankfulness to her protectress and a deeper sense of her complete incapacity to take care of herself. What if Mr. Slap, who had arrived from town, crisp with good stories, and flashing with repartee, should open his batteries upon her, and send some terrible bon mot to explode, shell-like, in her neighbourhood? What if Erle should, in some moment of unusual energy, pass from languid politeness into the satire for which the world in general gave him credit? What if Malagrida, with his black, mysterious eyes, and imperturbable suavity, should some day proceed to amuse himself at her expense, and annihilate her with a polished sneer? Florence, she was comforted to know, would instantly rush to arms in her defence, and would drive off the assailants from a forbidden topic of entertainment with the sharp missiles of her own unflagging wit. How not to love so gracious, so benevolent, so capable a defender? How not to reward her with the confidence of gratitude? What strange prejudice was it that blinded Margaret to the perfections of so good a friend?

Nor was Florence's kindness in the least hypocritical: she was delighted with her latest plaything. Nelly's dependence went to her heart she loved her, too, for the success which, it soon became evident, her presence assured to the theatricals. Her gracefulness, her becoming timidity, her transparent innocence, her unconscious refinement, all made her Hero a little triumph.

'My only anxiety,' said Florence, with a kind laugh, 'is, lest you

should have left off those pretty blushes before the real performance comes. If you grow too courageous, my dear, I shall frighten you on purpose for the edification of the beholders.'

'I shall be quite frightened enough,' Nelly said, taking her patroness's arm affectionately; 'I declare I hardly know what I am doing when I begin to speak.'

'Don't you?' cried Florence; well, you are making me and everybody else fall excessively in love with you. I beg you to know that the Count, who is a first-rate judge, considers himself among your most devoted admirers.'

By this time, Nelly's head, not very strong at the best, was beginning to be in a whirl. King Cophetua, in his royal condescension, could not have surprised the Beggar Maid with a more unexpected homage. Florence made no secret, however, that she thoroughly sympathized with Malagrida's approval, and encouraged her in the lawful airs and graces of an acknowledged beauty. Nelly, on her part, awoke to the delights of adoration, and thrilled with the consciousness of approaching queenship. Captain Anstruther, Malagrida, her cousin - oh, how bright a place the world seemed! how pleasant society! how alarming, and yet how irresistibly attractive, the courtesies of the lords of creation!!

Towards Charles, Florence's charity was far less unalloyed. Despite a pleasant good-nature, his malleability of temper excited her contempt; she smiled as she saw how he took his tone of thought from her chance expressions, and formed his tastes and sentiments upon the model she gave him. Erle liked his old friend, but soon let Florence perceive that he shared her opinion of his character. She, on her part, found him so easy of management, that the task of managing him lost half its attractiveness. 'Le beau plaisir,' she would say, 'de chasser un animal domestique. I declare I could drive him with a bit of red cloth.'

The fiend,' cried Erle, 'might return (might he not ?)—

to vasty Tartar back

And swear I never won a soul So easy as this Englishman's.' 'Fortunately,' said Florence, 'there are no fiends at Clyffe, or we do not know what might happen.' And yet, had she inquired of her conscience, she might have learnt that it was no heavenly or beneficent counsellor that was driving him from his original scheme of life, and bending his infirm will to a lower, easier, less courage-tasking design. Presently they joined the rest of the party.

'Pray,' asked Erle, 'has Sir Agricola been brought to terms yet? Am I to have the honour of initiating the Miss Dangerfields into the mysteries of our theatre?'

'You are,' said Florence, triumphantly; and a pretty battle I had to fight before Lady Dangerfield's conscientious difficulties could be disposed of. I was obliged to fire Lord Scamperley at her head, or I should have lost the day.'

Mrs. Vivien owed her ladyship a grudge for a long list of these covert indignities, which feminine antagonists know so well how to inflict.

'Lady Dangerfield's difficulties!' she cried, with a compassionating air. Those poor girls are really most distressingly placed. Between piety and intrigue their mother gives them no peace.'

'Piety!' cried the Major, who for once entirely agreed with his wife. "Whenever there is a vulgar, worldly, old woman, full of all the naughty things to which her age and sex entitle her, she always tops them up with theology, and becomes entirely unendurable.'

'It is an outrage upon heaven,' said Malagrida, for such people to suppose that they could ever get there. Scandal, bigotry, malevolence,-what ingredients, even for a Protestant saint!'

'Their devotion,' said Erle, 'is nothing but an unhallowed greediness after the good things of another life. Some people, you know, want to have everything; and a dexterous London mother contrives, of course, to have an invitation to the best and largest party ever given.'

Lady Dangerfield has made you

all quite profane,' said Mrs. Vivien; we must forgive her conscience this time at any rate, as Florence has stretched it over the theatricals.'

'Over Lord Scamperley, you mean,' said her daughter.

'But the result is, that we have got our two waiting-women; the Miss Dangerfields will act.'

'And I shall have to teach them,' said Erle, with a sigh. Ah, Miss St. Aubyn, if your sister would only help us!'

One genius in the family is enough,' said Malagrida, hanging over the young lady with a paternally tender air; 'we are too thankful for Hero to wish for anything more.'

Nelly looked up with a smile of childish delight, and thought how beautiful, how mysterious, and how terrible a personage her new admirer looked. The Polish musicmaster's eyes had been strange and sad, Charles's were a lovely blue, but the Count's! they were unfathomable, fiery, searching; and Nelly felt trembling that they looked through and through her.

"The hawk and the dove!' said Erle to Anstruther, as they walked away. It makes me sick to see Malagrida affectionate to that poor little girl. If Fortune honoured me with a young and pretty wife, he is one of the last people whose acquaintance I should choose to cultivate.'

'Hawks and doves!' cried Anstruther, whose tender heart was already in a glow of enthusiasm ; 'angels and devils, you mean. Come now, Erle, confess-you do enjoy teaching her her part, don't you?'

'She is not so stupid as the Miss Dangerfields, I admit,' Erle said, complacently; 'but it is a great deal of trouble.'

'Trouble!' cried the other indignantly, and stupid indeed! but you are really ice.'

'Yes,' said Erle, 'the very clearest, coldest, hardest, Wenham Lake. Don't you envy my frigidity?'

'It is inhuman,' said the other; 'but I do not believe a word of it; but it is the other sister you admire, I know.'

One

Before long a new excitement diverted half the attention hitherto concentrated on the theatricals. Erle had brought some horses in his train, and amongst others, the much-maligned Runnymeade, by this time a favourite hunter. afternoon, as they were riding home, discussing the fortunes of the day and the achievements of various members of the Heavyshire Hunt, Charles, who had had the luck to be prominent throughout the run, began to grow vehement in championship of the chestnut, whose failure earlier in the season had procured him the honour of Florence's acquaintance. Erle was pleased to be sarcastic, and to deride the other's eulogium.

Why, Evelyn,' he cried, 'confess now, did not you wait for me to knock the top off that post and rails, and make you a hole in the bullfinch, just before we killed? Even an old screw, you see, like this, may put some people to the blush.'

Runnymeade was jogging along almost exhausted with the morning's exploits. All day he had been unusually vicious and troublesome, and the signs of the conflict were discernible on his tawny sides. The bullfinch had embraced him lovingly in his passage through it, and he had contrived to give his master and himself a roll into a wide and miry ditch. Altogether, he looked extremely unprepossessing, Charles's spirits rose at the comparison.

and

'Upon my word,' he said, 'such an old, wicked, battered piece of obstinacy

"There are different objects for horses, you know,' Erle said. 'I keep mine all for going. If I wanted a pretty hack to canter after young ladies and pick up dismounted Amazons, I should make a bid for the chestnut.'

'Come, Erle,' said the other, in a passion, 'I tell you what; we will ride them both over a couple of miles of fair country, and see which is the better horse of the two. Runnymeade indeed!'

'Agreed!' said Erle. 'I shall put him into training forthwith, and you will see us do wonders. Do you know he once ran for the Derby? in honour of which I shall back him for twenty pounds.'

'I only hope he will be in one of his pretty tempers,' said Charles, 'and give you another such "brook scene" as we had this morning.'

The Squire protested against so unworthy an employment of a good hunter; but convinced at last by Charles's predictions of victory, warmed heartily into the idea; and Margaret, soon becoming an enthusiastic partisan, made daring wagers with all her friends on the chestnut's success.

'You would like to ride him yourself, would you not, Margaret?' said the Squire, as they halted their ponies and watched Charles giving his horse a morning gallop round the confines of the park, as he came across the valley and swept at last over the flight of hurdles to where they were standing.

'I shall be broken-hearted if Charles does not win,' she said; ' but of course he will. Mr. Erle's horse, grandfather, is a perfect fright.'

Margaret's zeal touched her cousin, and was the signal for a tacit reconciliation. He had left Nelly the day before at Clyffe, and in her absence the two relapsed, almost unconsciously, into their former communicativeness, intimacy, and affection. Charles forgot the interval of estrangement, the suspicions which, though not quite harboured, had not been quite expelled, the doubts which he had left unanswered, the