"You are pleased to be facetious, Sir," said Welbeck, who, in spite of the seriousness of Henry's manner, could not believe him to be in earnest; "is this a quotation from some play, or a sudden freak and capriccio of your own?"

"I never assert any thing that is false, not even in sport; and I should have hoped that my look and manner, not less than the peculiar delicacy of the subject, would have assured you that I am in earnest."

"Then, Sir, either you or I must be labouring under a temporary hallucination of mind. Methought I was addressing Mr. Henry Melcomb."

"Upon that subject you are not in error; you cannot so soon have forgotten me."

"Ha! then it was only your birthplace, and the names of your parents, that had slipped my memory.'

"If this be meant as a taunt, it is really one that I do not feel; because it is not my fault, but my misfortune, that I know not either my place of birth, or the names of my parents. I am not ashamed of being weighed by myself alone. If I have any worth, the want of ancestors cannot deprive me of it. If I have none, no pedigree could atone for my being without it.”

"Very true and pointed, and yet very little to the point. You are aware, as I shrewdly conjecture, that Miss Welbeck is likely to be one of the richest heiresses in Hampshire ?" "I have heard so, but this constitutes no part of her attrac tion in my eyes."

"How singularly disinterested; and what implicit credit should we yield to such an assertion, especially when we recollect that your own fortune consists of

"One hundred pounds a year, as I have already stated." "Or in other words, you are a pauper. May I then venture respectfully to inquire, what it is you propose to bestow upon my daughter in return for her charms, her virtues, and her wealth?"

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Myself!" exclaimed Henry, drawing himself up with an honest pride" A healthy frame, a sound mind, a heart that has never yet been contaminated by vice or dissipation, principles as honourable and as upright as her own, and a resolution to consecrate all these to the promotion of her happiness.'

Welbeck, who had hitherto spoken with a look and tone of the most cutting and contemptuous irony, now threw

himself back in his chair, and uttered a sardonic "Ha! ha! ha! ha!"

"Perhaps it appears ridiculous to you," resumed Henry, with great calmness, "that a pauper, as you term him, should aspire to your daughter's hand; but if so, it is you who are ridiculous, not I, since it is precisely because you are yourself opulent, that you can afford to dispense with riches in your son-in-law. As a disciple of Malthus, I should not myself have presumed to offer myself for Miss Welbeck, were it not reasonable to suppose that you would assist in the maintenance of your own daughter. The amount of her

portion is to me a matter of perfect indifference; it would depend, of course, upon your own generosity, or your own wishes as to her style of living; but as you would probably not desire to lose the pleasure of her society, the Manorhouse might still continue to be her home."

"And you would doubtless condescend to make it yours too. I thought so. Matchless spirit of accommodation ! Now, Sir, favour me with your attention for one minute, since I have listened to your outrageous, your frantic proposition, with a calmness at which I am myself utterly amazed. I have only one single question to ask of you. Did Miss Welbeck in any way authorize you to make this application to me?"

"Certainly not: on the contrary, she desired me never to mention the subject, either to herself, or to you; and yet'

"Ha! that is well; it has taken a load from my heart, and I can breathe more freely. I want not to hear any more. Emy is a good girl; she would not share the fate of the wretch whom I have cursed; she would not be spurned from me for ever with unutterable loathing, hatred, and disgust; she would not be disinherited, and see the proud fortune that is destined for her, if she obeys my wishes, bequeathed to an hospital! As for you, Sir, this is my answer: Rather than give my consent to your marriage with my daughter, I would see her, dear as she is to me, lying in a shroud at my feet. The very preposterousness of your presumption has smo. thered up my anger in contemptuous wonderment; but though I confess that I have heretofore found pleasure in your society, I now cast off your acquaintance utterly and for ever. I shall order the doors of the Manor-house to be skut against you; and I warn you not to irritate a temper

which may quickly be driven to desperation and fearful violence, by again presenting yourself within these walls, or presuming to seek any sort of communication with my daughter. Not a word, Sir, not a syllable! I will not hear you. Begone! and return no more."

So saying, Welbeck suddenly quitted the room, his rapid tread being heard outside, as he hurried along the passage that led to the back of the building; while Henry, reluctantly quitting the house which he had been so imperiously forbidden never to revisit, and to the very walls of which he had now become attached, since it was the residence of his beloved Emily, proceeded slowly and disconsolately across the park on his way back to Thaxted.

CHAPTER IX.

Why are you virtuous?

And wherefore are you gentle, strong, and valiant
Know you not, master, to some kind of men
Their graces serve them but as enemies?

No more do yours: your virtues, gentle master,
Are sanctified and holy traitors to you.

Oh! what a world is this, when what is comely
Envenoms him that bears it!

AS YOU LIKE IT.

HENRY was now destined to experience in a very marked and painful manner the evanescent nature of popularity. He upon whom greatness, or, at least, nominal riches, had so lately been thrust by the mistakes and wilful exaggerations of the vain and officious Penguins, and who had in consequence received most worshipful homage from the Dons and Hidalgos of the vicinity, but more especially from those provident mammas who had portionless daughters to settle: he, who, as the successful and generous champion of the fair, had been the theme and darling of the commonalty, was shortly considered by a great portion of both classes as little better than an unprincipled, designing adventurer and fortune-hunter, who had come into Hampshire to see what he could pick up. This rapid revolution in public opinion was

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chiefly effected by the revengeful malice and indefatigable tongue of Mrs. Penguin; who, as if determined to exemplify the assertion, that "Hell has no fury like a woman scorned," lost no opportunity of traducing and blackening his character. According to her present version of circumstances, they had themselves been most shamefully imposed upon, in being given to understand that Henry was a near relation of the late most respectable Captain Tenby, whereas there was good reason to believe that he was a poor foundling, the probable offspring of vice and poverty, who had been adopted out of mere charity. His imaginary wealth was now positively affirmed to have been a fabrication of his own, for which none but the most fraudulent motives could be assigned. His intrepidity and humanity in the business of the smugglers at Hordle Cliff, was attributed to a secret connexion with some of the gang, and a presumable interest in their cargo; and as to the affair of Lucy Haselgrove, it was plainly insinuated that he had himself, with an unexampled baseness, completed the ruin of that unhappy young woman, and had only turned her off and married her to Hodge Nettletop, when he became tired of her.

But it was for an alleged attempt upon her own virtue, that Mrs. Penguin reserved the most circumstantial and the most malevolent of her inventions. As it afforded her a fine opportunity for indulging her rancour against Henry, and establishing at the same time the unassailable purity of her own character against all future impugners, she acted the Lucretia with prodigious bustle and loquacity; running about from house to house to detail the insidious and incessant artifices by which he had attempted to seduce her from the paths of duty, the repeated efforts she had made to bring him to a due sense of his unprincipled conduct, and the pain with which she had at last found herself compelled to communicate his nefarious designs to her husband. When, in addition to all these insinuations and positive charges, it came to be publicly known that Henry had applied offensive terms to Captain Frampton, and then refused to fight him, it need excite little wonder that few could be found bold enough to stand up in his defence, or that many of his former acquaintance began pointedly to slight and avoid him. People had much rather be deceived into a bad opinion of a neighbour than into a good one, because they can much better afford to throw away scorn and abuse than charity and approba

tion. They who had erroneously endowed Henry with opulence and high connexions, indignant at having been defrauded of their respect, even by their own mistake, now made ample amends by yielding an eager belief to all the disparaging rumours with which he was bespattered; and if two wrongs can make one right, there is no doubt that they were justified in acting as they did.

To this ungenerous conduct there were, however, several honourable exceptions. Among the better classes, honest Frank Ringwood was Henry's stanchest supporter. Having reasons of his own for strongly suspecting Mrs. Penguin's arrogated purity, he cross-questioned the supposed delinquent as to the real state of the case; but Henry, remembering his pledge, refused to exonerate himself at the expense of a female, although she was at that moment endeavouring to ruin him with her calumnies. Ringwood was not the less persuaded of his innocence, and supported his opinion with his usual independence, by increasing their intimacy, and vindicating his friend wherever he went. Among the villagers, too, Henry retained many admirers and adherents, the most active and pugnacious of the whole party being Hodge Nettletop, who, throwing off his coat and waistcoat one market-day, in the midst of the assembled neighbourhood, offered to fight any man for half a guinea and a gallon of beer, who should dare to say that Mr. Melcomb was not as brave a fellow and as true a gentleman as any in all Hampshire. It was particularly remarked that Bat Haselgrove the cartwright, who was supposed to have owed Henry a grudge ever since the wrestling-match at the fair, did not think proper to accept this challenge, though he was within hearing at the time it was thrown out.

As if all these slights, and slanders, and external annoy. ances had not been sufficient, Henry had to encounter the sordid spleen and ill-humour of Mrs. Tenby; who reproached him incessantly with having ruined all their fair prospects, and peevishly urged him to quit a neighbourhood where they were treated for all the world like Mohawks or Negroes, He could not bear, however, to withdraw from the vicinage of Emily Welbeck, whom he still hoped to encounter in one of his daily rambles; not without a vague expectation that some fortunate chance, though he could not define its nature, might effect a renewal of their intimacy, and remove the objections of her father. Nor was he in the least disposed to