ment, even he might imagine me desirous of recalling his attentions to myself. In short, I must leave the matter to the Fates, and hope the best for Clarence.

The time approaches for quitting London; and, although the summerishness of the weather pleads strongly in favour of Staffordshire, I confess I am sorry to go. I enjoy London far more now that I am standing aloof from the vortex, than last season, when not a moment of my time was my own. I see all the people I like, I keep what engagements I like; in short, I am thoroughly independent. No George Hantons or Lord Penrhyns approach me now sufficiently near to endow them with the privilege of impertinence, and I begin to flatter myself I have made a few friends. Yesterday, to my great surprise, old Lady Hartston called here, and expressed with so much real feeling her joy at the change in Herbert's fortunes and temper, and, consequently, in the destinies of his excellent wife, that she quite won my heart. She did not mention her son till she was taking leave.

"I believe you sometimes see Eustace?" said she, "How do you find him looking? Most people think him miserably altered since he came into office."

"I have been in company with Lord Hartston a few times since my return to England," I replied with as much indifference as I could assume, "and have known him so short a time, and so slightly that I am no judge of his looks. His duties are very anxious ones; I am not surprised that he should be harassed by their responsibility."

"Nor I," was the old lady's abrupt reply; and, with another shake of the hand, she quitted the room.

Is Lord Hartston looking ill, I wonder, that his mother should be thus uneasy; and am I in truth a careless observer of his appearance? Oh! that I dare sit calmly down, and interrogate my own feelings on the subject! But I have not courage. The question too nearly involves my happiness, and the result is too wholly beyond my control. I certainly feel that, since my return to England, during the last fortnight, Lord Hartston's manners towards me have become strangely softened; and that his own demeanour now demonstrates the preference which before I had only occasion to learn from Herbert's ebullitions of temper. But what then? His mind is too fastidious to admit of the possibility of his

attaching himself with the degree of infatuation which I should esteem attachment. Even supposing him to be actually in love as much as his nature will admit, it is not that sort of exclusive love that would satisfy my exigeance. Better dismiss him from my thoughts, and turn my steps, or my horses' heads, toward Trentwood Park and rural philosophy.

Mr. De Rawdon, the attaché, who has just arrived from Paris, informed me this morning that, at the desire of his cousin, Lady Maria, he transmitted to England, some weeks ago, by the bag, a huge MS. containing "Sketches of Italy, with a patent Perryian, by Wilhelmina Clarinda Vinicombe, dedicated to her friend the Right Honourable Lady Maria de R," and intended for immediate publication. What have I not lost! Pray Hea ven the literary lady may not have taken it into her wellwigged head to commencer par le commencement, and favour the public with an account of our niaiseries on the Rhine! If people must write journals and diaries of their proceedings by sea and land, why not keep them to themselves as carefully as I do? Which of our islanders, unless, perhaps, Edward Bulwer, is privileged to treat of so sacred a subject as "Italy and the Italians?" for the same reason that his brother Henry had a right to enlarge upon " Paris and the Parisians;" that, while studying the character of all classes of society, he was warmly welcomed into the high ́est, and "best can paint them, who has seen them most."

Sunday. I went to the opera last night pour écouter le ballet, (which, in defiance of all precedent, I confess that I prefer here to the mismatched acts and scenes they give under the same denomination at the Académie Royale,) as well as to make my observations on the proceedings of the Clackmannan clique. I begin to fear Lady Cis's intelligence is correct. The duke never quitted their box; and, though Lady C. pursued her usual policy of sending Lady Alicia home to bed before the ballet was half over, beeause it was Saturday night, and the week has been a week of dissipation, I am convinced she is doing her utmost to favour the growing penchant of the duke. I shall say nothing on the subject to Cecilia. If the daughter be really fickle, and the mother designing, Cecilia's utmost endeavours will not frustrate their plans; and she will only get herself into trouble by the susceptibility of her temper.

Lady Alicia's engagement to Clarence is not even suspected by the world; and every one seems to notice the attentions paid her by the Duke of M. The Carringtons stood near me last night, as I was waiting, upon Sir Jervis Hall's arm, the announcement of the carriage.

66

'Pray did you observe the tremendous flirtation tonight between Lady Clackmannan's little nonentity of a daughter and the Duke of Merioneth ?" said she, so loud as to be heard by half a dozen indifferent people.

"Jane-Jane !" remonstrated her husband-" what right have you to make any such observation? The duke may seriously resent premature comments on his attentions. I beg you will be more considerate."

"If people do not intend to be talked about, why do they bore one with a public exhibition of their tender passions? Who wants to witness their wooings? I would as soon sit looking a whole evening at a fond shepherd and shepherdess in Chelsea china, as bore myself with watching the sweet smiles and soft glances of two noble ninnies in an opera-box.'

"Jane-Jane-"

"More especially with such a hawk-eyed chaperon on the watch as Lady Clackmannan; who, with all her philosophy and propriety, is as keen after-"

"Jane! the carriage is called. Jane, the carriage will drive off!" interrupted Algernon Carrington, dragging her off in dismay, though I am certain no carriage was announced. And by this time the lady has probably circulated her flippant remarks, through a round of mor ning visits.

Monday. I accompanied the Herberts this morning to the musical festival, and was gratified even beyond my expectations. Sacred music is a branch of the art cultivated in England with unparalleled success. They may talk of the correctness of the choruses in Germany; but a young English voice is so sweet and pure that it is well worth more powerful organs. How truly do I enjoy the music of Handel when separated from the buzz-wigs and dowagerhood of the ancient concerts, which always seem to me to smell of bishops! These popular musical festivals must greatly tend to the diffusion of musical taste. To-night, I have had my parting tea-drinking tête-à-tête with Cecilia, who is in miserable spirits; and

'66

to-morrow, the glorious first of June," we take wing for Staffordshire. Heigho!

Trentwood Park, June 3d.-This is truly what poor Lady Cecilia would call “a love of a place;" so grassy. green, so lightsome, so pleasantly situated. As far as regards my own taste, I might prefer the majestic gloom of Hartston Abbey; but Trentwood is exactly assorted to the social position of the Herberts. It gratifies me to perceive that Sir Henry has exclusively studied the comfort and convenience of my sister in his domestic arrangements; and, with her four healthy, happy children around her in such a home, Armine would be very different from the amiable creature she is, could she experience an hour's discontent. The children were almost too happy in welcoming us; and even Aunt Harriet came in for her share of love and kisses. But is it not very soon, at six-and-twenty, to sink for life into "Aunt Harriet," without one nearer tie to existence than the sec ondary affections bestowed by those whose hearts are so warmly attached elsewhere?

My

This removal to the country, in the midst of the stir and tumult of the season, has made me melancholy. The silence of Trentwood oppresses me. The Herberts, indeed, have an interest here in which I cannot participate. This is their home, their happiness, their world. To me it is a beautiful spot, embellished by the presence of my sister and her family, but nothing more. egotism demands something nearer and dearer to rest upon; something wholly or almost my own. I have sometimes thoughts of taking Hollybridge, of which he has a long lease, off the hands of my brother-in-law. But Hollybridge is too near to Hartston Abbey ; and the world, or perhaps even my conscience, might accuse me of a desire to approximate myself to the family.

Whenever I walk or drive with Herbert and Armine, their attention is so engrossed by projects or progresses of improvement, that I might as well be at Andernach. Sir Henry is making his wife a flower garden surrounding a charming conservatory; and all I have to do is to play the umpire in their differences of taste. The park is extensive, watered by my own dear Trent, and skirted by beautiful woods. I sometimes wander out alone, book in hand, as an apology for companionship, to enjoy the fresh verdure of the early summer; and when is the

country so beautiful as now, with its springing and flower-enamelled grass, its cone-blossomed chesnut trees, the voice of the cuckoo in the woods, or the distant sound of coming rain promising to refreshen and re-invigorate all nature into still brighter brightness? What is there in all this to depress my spirits! yet I feel more lonely here, amid the tranquil, graceful landscapes of Trentwood, than last year, when ill and unhappy in a foreign country. I fear my restless spirit is wanting in

"The wisdom fitted to the needs
Of hearts at leisure."

How difficult, in this world of equivocation, to speak truth even to one's self! Were I to intrust my thoughts in all honesty to my journal, I should acknowledge some disappointment that, notwithstanding the good understanding beginning to prevail between Herbert's friend and myself-notwithstanding the undisguised nature of his homage to me at Hazelbank, at the queen's ball, and elsewhere he should have permitted me to leave town for an indefinite period, without a syllable in explanation of his sentiments. I ventured to inquire of Armine, in a careless manner, the other day, whether Lord Hartston were likely to visit Trentwood in the course of the autumn; but she told me frankly that Herbert had not even invited him; that Lord H. had much to occupy his at tention at the abbey during his limited holydays; that, when at leisure, he usually visited the Isle of Wight for yachting; that Trentwood was too far from town for his convenience;-in short, that there was not the least idea of his coming.

This is strange. I half suspect that Sir Henry is careful not to expose him to the danger of my presence! Truly he is a most valuable and considerate friend!

I know not why, but the summer season invariably renders me more triste at heart than the winter. In winter, when the winds howl and the stormy rains descend, the earth seems divided into countries, climates, provinces, homes, and every family becomes self-dependant. In summer, one soft and balmy atmosphere` appears to enwrap the earth, and calls forth its inhabitants to enjoyment. United into a single tribe, the world becomes too wide, when I remember that to its collected multitudes I am nothing-to none indispensable, and