"Who is Miss Carden ?" inquired Louisa, when she had reflected a little on what had just passed.

"Nobody inquires into people's antecedents here, Miss Grant," replied Mr. Clarke, with mock gravity, "it would not answer at all. You must take people for what they are worth in society, make the best of them now; and cut them by and bye, if it happens to suit you. Depend upon it, that is the best plan."

Louisa looked dissatisfied.

“I have a notion, according to that rule, you would not rank very high, Clarke," observed Mr. Hamilton, laughing. "Miss Grant, I can see, is perplexed by having no standard low enough to estimate such utterly advice as that you just pro

worthless

pounded."

"I was thinking of Miss Carden, not

Mr. Clarke," replied Louisa, carelessly, "I had no idea she was an American."

"She is not," replied Mrs, Newton, "neither by birth, nor education. She has only adopted some wild republican ideas."

"I like wild ideas," said Mr. Clarke, "they are such a pleasing novelty. I do not know that I ever saw brighter black eyes than Miss Carden's."

"Do you prefer black eyes," said Louisą quickly, fixing hers on him for a moment, and then modestly veiling them with her long eyelashes. She had an idea that she looked particularly well, with drooping eyelids.

"No," said Mr. Clarke, without looking up from the scrap of paper on which he was scribbling, "I think in general they are less pleasant than most others, Green are

rather my favourites, soft dark green eyes."

Louisa decided that he was a Goth, and had an idea from the sort of suppressed smile which was just curling the corners of Mr. Hamilton's lips, that he was no better; an idea which she was at leisure to digest, as nobody spoke again for some time,

CHAPTER VI.

Reserved she grew, and though she thought no ill,
She sigh'd in fear, and strove to frame her speech
To formal phrase of maiden courtesy.

Sore wonder'd Leonard at her mien constrained,
Her flitting blush, her intermitted words.

HARTLEY COLERIDGE.

"Joy! joy!" cried Flora, as she sprang into their room one morning with an open letter in her hand; "here is news, indeed! Astley is coming back, Astley and his uncle; he has persuaded Mr. Boyle to try Malvern, to cure him of the remains of his illness at

the Cape. They will be here in two days, and then-oh then!"

Mrs. Denys was very glad to hear it, she had been sadly lost without Astley; the want of some one to advise and act for her, had fallen heavily on her heart, and she was, for her, quite in a state of excitement at the notion.

Flora's spirits could not be controlled, she sang and rejoiced audibly, danced about the room to the tune of Julien's Polka, and was perfectly incapable of rest.

"My dear, could you sit still," or "Flora dear, if you would but be quiet," were the plaintive ejaculations of Mrs. Denys. "I never shall make out this bill, if you sing; oh, dear, you have made have made me make such a blot !"

Flora took the bill, and added it up; erased the blot carefully, and tried to be