in the house, barrin' the blacking-bottle, and that's got a Day before it!"

"Ask the gentleman in," said the Vicar, quietly: and seeing his handmaid little inclined to obey, he stepped himself to the door, and requested the stranger to enter. The latter, with a bow, apologized for the intrusion; but he had been informed at Mr. Crawford's, at the Grange, that Miss Martin was at the Vicarage, and he wished to speak to her on business. "Miss Martin!" repeated Mr. Leyden, "there must be some mistake; unless is the lady one of the visitors at the Grange?

"Yes," replied the stranger, "she is staying there with Miss Armadale."

"With Miss Armadale! oh then it is all right, sir," said the Vicar, smiling, "the young lady is here; only, singularly enough, I never knew till now what her surname was. She is at present, as you may hear, engaged with a young party at blind-man's buff: will walk in and see them, sir; or would you preyou fer a quieter room?"

The stranger looked considerably puzzled at several parts of this speech; but perceiving that the house was in that chaotic condition peculiar to the giving of parties, consented to be released from his great coat, and to follow Mr. Leyden into the saloon.

There, in the midst of a crowd of children, in a plain muslin dress, her dark curls flying somewhat disorderly about her shoulders, her eyes covered with

a handkerchief, herself pulled by one little hand, pinched by another, laughing with everybody,-was the elegant, fastidious, recherchée Miss Armadale, for whom so many gay circles were longing, and who had held herself as so much too good for them all. The stranger stopped as if petrified. "Come more this way, sir," said his host, "and then you will not be incommoded by this troop of madcaps;" but the words were hardly out of his lips, when the crowd, pursued by the 'blind man,' came rushing hotly round them. The Vicar adroitly slipped away, but his strange visitor was less successful; and to the great amusement of the children, was made prisoner by Margaret. "Who in the world have I got here?" said Miss Armadale, "who can it be? it is not Mr. Leyden ; it is neither of the Mr. Crawfords, unless Mr. Nelson has dressed up to deceive me, which is not fair." Shouts and clapping of hands interrupted her, during which the stranger, in a low, indignant voice, uttered the word, "Margaret!"

Miss Armadale started, and tore off her bandage. "Mr. Conroy who would have guessed?... stop! don't speak a word! come with me to another room: now don't speak, please go on playing, children, never mind mee-Mary dear, there is nothing the matter, and we do not want anything or anybody:" and talking all the time, to prevent his uttering a word, she got her unexpected visitor safely out of the saloon, to a little room devoted to the cloaks and shawls;

EE

where, having provided herself with a candle, she closed the door, and then burst out laughing. Mr. Conroy neither laughed nor smiled. "What may be the meaning of all this, Margaret? I went to the Grange directly I arrived, and was told you were gone to dine with Mr. and Mrs. Crawford at Sir John Marples', upon which I enquired for Miss Martin, and after some demurring among the servants, heard she was at the Vicarage: and now I see nothing of her, and find you here, romping with a parcel of children. I shall be glad to have all this explained."

"You shall have it explained," said Margaret, "it is soon done. I am here in disguise."

"Disguise!" repeated he, starting.

"Yes: but an innocent one: Miss Martin passes everywhere as Miss Armadale, and I am penniless Esther, her companion."

Mr. Conroy looked aghast. "And you mean to say nobody knows who you are? "

"And you have actually condescended to the meanness of such a vulgar trick!"

"Meanness!" repeated Margaret, colouring.

"Yes, mean vulgarity: it is nothing better. I am quite shocked at such an imprudent and unladylike proceeding; and if you suppose I will countenance or assist in it, you are mistaken. I shall lose no time in explaining how matters stand, and that you have ventured on so ridiculous a step without consulting any

of your friends. Be assured, too, since you count my advice not worth asking, I shall not trouble myself to give you any more!"

So saying, Mr. Conroy flung himself into a chair, crushing a heap of youthful robes thereby, and looked angrily at the fire, as if the innocent grate had had anything to do with it. Silence ensued for some minutes, during which he sat fuming with his hands thrust to the bottom of his pockets, and Miss Armadale stood opposite, struggling between resentment at his language, and regard for his authority.

His many friendly services, and long-tried attachment to her father and herself, gave him every claim to her respect: old associations, moreover, had invested him with a degree of sacred dignity in her eyes she loved his person, and relied on his judgment; but irritable and hasty as he was, he had never treated her so harshly before, and her proud heart swelled rebelliously. He soon began to mutter again, "Unladylike utterly unjustifiable-may lead to the most unpleasant consequences-besides involving a train of deceptions, quite sufficient to make you despised and distrusted by every one! I only say, I will have nothing to do with it-so mind that!"

Very well, sir," said Margaret, turning proudly away but the moment she had done so, her heart smote her. He started to his feet. "Oh! that is the way you mean to treat me! you are disposed to act on your own judgment! so be it, then-do so!"

I came down at great inconvenience to gratify your wishes you choose to be independent of my control: you shall be. I have the honour to wish you a good evening."

"Stay-stop-Mr. Conroy! what do you mean? when have I ever said such a thing, or so much as thought it?" interposed Margaret.

"You say as much by your behaviour!" said he, sternly.

"I do not indeed I do not-see if I do: I only felt angry for one moment, and that was because I was angry with myself: and for that I most sincerely beg your pardon. Sit down again, and listen to me, dear Mr. Conroy, will you?"

Mr. Conroy sat down, but with a severity of manner, which cut Margaret to the heart. Instead of speaking, she turned her head aside, and leant upon the chimney-piece. "Well, Margaret," said he, sharply, after the silence had lasted some time, "you wanted me to listen to you: when do you mean to speak? But I see you are annoyed that I am offended: I am offended, very much offended, and with reason."

"But is there no pardon for the offence?" said Miss Armadale, kneeling down by him, and looking up in his face. "I am very, very sorry to have offended you, and will do anything you wish. Can I say more?"

66

Saying is one thing, Margaret, and doing is another," said Mr. Conroy, slightly mollified.