permission given him, to wait on the young lady, whose beauty had struck him so much, and whose company he thought he should prefer without her old husband's society.

Mr. Cameron had told him the number of their room, and possessed of this knowledge, he sallied out on his adventure. May was just preparing to seal her letter, for which purpose she had rung the bell for a candle. The servant reached the door at the same moment as the Captain, so the latter gave him his card, and desired him to say that this gentleman requested leave to wait on her.

Instinctively, May guessed who was the owner of the card, but she did not very well know what to say or do. Her husband's cautions and her own curiosity struggled for a moment; but the point was decided by the gentleman's entrance, without waiting for further permission. She looked a good deal embarrassed and more than half angry, at what she considered an intrusion; and she would have speedily expressed her sense of his visit, had not a consciousness of ignorance as to what good manners allowed, kept her silent. Perhaps he might

know that he was doing nothing out of the common way, or which called for particular reprehension or remark.

He did not leave her much time for doubt; but immediately explained that he had met Mr. Cameron down stairs, had made his acquaintance and received his permission to visit her; and as the old gentleman was now engrossed by the conversation of some old and respectable friend, he had hurried away to avail himself of this great privilege.

May smiled, and said she was glad Mr. Cameron had met with some acquaintance-it would serve to amuse him.

Captain Mountsteven, who was perfectly aware that she was Mr. Cameron's wife, replied with great suavity, that gentlemen of the age of her respected father, always enjoyed a chat with old friends.

"My father!" repeated May, colouring a good deal; "Mr. Cameron is not my father."

"I beg pardon-I see there is no likeness. Then he is, I presume, your guardian or uncle ?" "He is my husband," said she, composedly, and looking full in her visitor's face.

"Your husband!" repeated he, with an air of

great astonishment.

"You misunderstand me,

surely I mean the old gentleman who was walking with you this morning."

"And so do I," replied May, looking halfangry with him.

"Are you fond of the water, Mrs. Cameron ?" said he, suddenly changing the subject; "I mean sailing on it."

"I never tried at all; the only vessel I ever was in, is the Ryde steamer."

My yacht is at Cowes, and though the season is rather late, and I was thinking of laying her up for the winter, yet if the weather continues as mild as it is now, it would not be unpleasant sailing. Would you like to try?"

"Oh, I think I should, if Mr. Cameron did not object. Of all things a sailing vessel looks to me most graceful, and I always long to be on board when I see them gliding through the water."

"Well, then, we will have a sail together. When shall you be at Cowes ?"

She could not tell, as their plans were unsettled; but she rather thought wherever she wished to go, there they should go.

"You are commander-in-chief, then?" said

he, with an air she fancied both impertinent and supercilious.

"I do not understand you," she replied with a haughty look.

"I only meant, that from your speech, I concluded you to be the supreme head of affairs in your domestic policy—the ruler, as you ought of course to be."

"Oh!" said she, dwelling a little upon the monosyllable; then adding, "Mr. Cameron is excessively kind to me, and generally allows me to do as I please; but if business should require his presence in London, of course I could not interfere or detain him here."

"But if business required his presence, it could hardly make yours necessary. I presume you do not superintend Mr. Cameron's countinghouse, or manage those city affairs for him."

"If Mr. Cameron's business made it necessary to go to town, it would be mine, as his wife, to accompany him.”

At this moment, the servant returned with the lighted candle, and May desired him to wait whilst she sealed her letter, that he might take it to the post. Her visitor silently watched her pretty hands and fingers sparkling with

jewels, as she went through this process; but when the elegant little seal had been pressed and the letter consigned to the servant, who carried it off, he resumed the conversation, whilst May, leaning on the writing-desk in front of her, trifled with her gold pen and the other little articles in the escritoire.

"Then I may expect the pleasure of your company some day; you will honour my little 'May-Queen' with your presence."

"Thank you; I will talk to Mr. Cameron about it."

He tried two or three other subjects, but not very successfully; the pretty young wife-and she certainly was the prettiest woman he had seen for a long time-did not seem to listen. with anything like the satisfaction, deference, or admiration with which she ought to have attended to him. Captain Valentine Mountsteven was a very fashionable man in London. Heir to a title, and owner of a large property already, handsome, elegant, and just sufficiently dissipated to be interesting and piquant, his notice of any young woman had been generally received with gratitude as a favour, and he was accustomed to consider himself conferring dis