and papers; ending with devoting all her attention to a box of mignonette and Ericæ, which stood in the window.

Astley looked after her, sorry that he had made her angry, and thinking that after all he was not so much better than herself, as to give him a right to find fault with her so harshly. It was an old dispute, an old source of irritation; he was quick at seeing her failings, and would not see them in silence; but his hastiness often interfered with the good, which a more gentle remonstrance or a playful rebuke might have effected. Both parties, however, had that degree of frankness which prevented their nursing resentment, or brooding over injuries. Flora's colour gradually subsided to the usual faint tint, and she began to sing to herself as she watered her plants.

He came up to her.

"How sweet your flowers are," said he. "I suppose you will not walk with me today, Flora?" he added, in a sort of apologetic voice.

Yes I will," she cried, with much animation, "I will go and put my bonnet on this moment," and with these words she ran away, leaving Astley in a strong fit of admiration at her good temper.

Whilst he was diverting his thoughts by looking over the newpaper, he was interrupted by the arrival of visitors. Two ladies were ushered in.

"Ha! Mr. Boyle," cried the elder lady, presenting him with a bright pink glove to shake, "I am happy to see you. Do you know my niece, Miss Grant? Louisa, you never met Mr. Boyle, I think. We were told Flora was at home."

"Miss Denys has just left the room," replied

Astley, after acknowledging the introduction to Miss Grant, for whom he instantly conceived a violent dislike, arising from the gay colours of her dress, and the absurd way in which her bonnet was set off her head.

"Louisa is all impatience to see her dear former friend, Flora; they have not met for six years, but she is extremely attached to her."

"Miss Denys must have been a child then," said Astley, in a tone which conveyed the insinuation that he did not suppose the same of Miss Grant.

"Can you tell me, Mr. Boyle, if the Malvern scheme is settled?" inquired Mrs. Hunter, the elder lady.

"I believe so," was his brief and reluctant

answer.

"I am sure I hope it will do your aunt

good; your sweet cousin, too, will enjoy the change. Will she not, Louisa ?"

"I should think so," replied Miss Grant, in a sort of assured tone and manner, which sounded like a school-boy's voice, "it is the place to enjoy oneself, if one only knows how. Variety, amusement, idleness, all encouraged as virtues-cardinal virtues; told to dance, and play, and make merry, and plenty of opportunity for it. Oh! it is famous."

Astley's dislike increased at every word she uttered.

"You have been there yourself," said he politely.

"Yes, and hope to go again. I understand Flora has grown up quite a beauty; she was charming six years ago, I remember. I used to think so even then, though at that age, I suppose, I was not a great connoisseur in beauty. Very young girls think more of

the heart and temper, Mr. Boyle, than of the features."

Astley thought that Miss Grant's looks greatly belied her, if six years ago she could have fairly laid claim to the title of a very young girl; he was persuaded she was thirty, if she was a day.

"I should almost fear for our dear Flora's high spirits though, at such a place," continued Mrs. Hunter, in her bland voice," she is perhaps a little giddy, a trifle volatile; do you not think so ?"

"She has rather high spirits," said he, reluctant even to admit so much.

66

Yes, I was sure you must think so; volatile-sadly volatile-a little-the least little bit of a flirt," insinuated Mrs. Hunter.

"Not that I know of," replied he, stoutly.