"He had need," returned Harriet shortly, and she turned away and loitered about the room until the gentlemen appeared.
"Here comes the English Moriani!" she exclaimed, as Mr. Humphries made his appearance in the door-way. "Come, Mr. Humphries, lose no time, begin singing directly."
He scraped with one foot, gave a very wide smile, and said he should be happy, if she had any-thing he knew, and if she would take the trouble to accompany him.
Harriet pointed to a heap of music; told him to select three or four songs, and sent Miss Markham to play for him: while she threw herself on a sofa near, and summoned Margaret to sit by her.
"Come here, ma mie," she said, "you have been very good and civil, and Aunt Singleton has been smiling her approbation of you for the last half hour. Now rest yourself. Is it not strange what a fine voice that seal has? Look at him turning the leaves with his short fins. He will be the death of me! But you should see him hunt; he has a capital stud, and rides well though you would not believe it. Will you have him?"
"No thank you," said Margaret laughing.
"Then I will not interfere with Miss Markham. What is that commotion, I wonder, among the dogs in the hall? It cannot be an arrival at this time of night. I must go and sing that duet from the Andronico with Mr. Humphries. You will admire it extremely."
Mr. Humphries and Harriet sang admirably, Margaret was delighted, and drew near the piano to listen. Most of the gentlemen came round to applaud and admire, while the young ladies contented themselves with remarking that they had been taught in a different style, and had been always recommended to avoid such theatrical music as the unhappy duet now under discussion.
Meantime, while the fine voices of the singers were gliding through the charming little movement, O voce soave, all unconscious of the imputations thrown upon their efforts, Margaret was very much surprised to see the door thrown open, and Mr. Gage walk leisurely up to Mrs. Singleton. She concluded that he was staying in the house, and that having dined out, he was only just returned. Nothing could be farther from the fact.
Having paid his compliments to the lady of the house, he advanced to Mr. Singleton, who greeted him with a start and a shout, and many other boisterous indications of surprise and pleasure; and seizing him by the arm, hurried him among the group round the piano; where regardless of Harriet's occupation, he tapped her on the shoulder, and bade her welcome an old friend of hers. Now Mr. Singleton had always taken Mr. Gage's part, although he stood too much in awe of Harriet to contend the point with her; but she well knew his opinion, and had no idea of making her welcome a very warm one.
Without the slightest sign of embarrassment or surprise, without even interrupting her part in the duet, which was now drawn to a close, she allowed him to touch her hand, stooped her head a little, and then directed her glance steadily over Miss Markham's shoulder to the pages of the music book from which she was reading. Mr. Gage was not given to betray his feelings any more than herself—perhaps he had anticipated no kinder reception—he drew himself up, stared haughtily at the company, arranged his moustaches, looked at his watch, told Mr. Singleton he had not expected to arrive so soon; and then perceiving Margaret, advanced to her, believed—was sure he had the pleasure of addressing Miss Capel; pressed her hand with remarkable earnestness, told her how rejoiced he was to meet her again so unexpectedly; hoped that her stay at Singleton Manor was likely to be a long one; and, in fact, tried very hard to make an impression. It was plain he had either forgotten, or forgiven her rejection of Hubert, and so far Margaret was pleased; for the rest, she knew what his extreme civility meant. This lasted until the company had done thanking and complimenting the singers; and then Margaret expected that Harriet would have addressed a few words to Mr. Gage, who was standing close beside her; but she perversely turned round and addressed Mr. Humphries.
"Well," she said, "you and I, Mr. Humphries, have done something wonderful, according to all these good people. I think we did get on very well."
"Oh! I am glad of that, Miss Conway. Was I quite right in that last part?"
"Quite; it never went better."
"Oh! I was afraid of that E. It is such an awkward interval."
"Very. A seventh always is; and it is more difficult to hit in concerted music than in a solo."
"Yes. Shall you hunt to-morrow?"
"I have not made up my mind; and you know even if I had, I might change it: women are not always to be depended upon."
"Oh! I don't know. I like—I have not a bad opinion of women, do you know, Miss Conway."
"I am sure all the women are much obliged to you for your good opinion, Mr. Humphries," said Harriet, fixing her brilliant eyes upon him, without the slightest appearance of irony in their expression; "it is a proof of your good sense not to follow in the common track of unmeaning abuse against our sex."
"Yes; that is what I think—there is no sense in it: and people who have mothers—and that—"
Mr. Humphries evidently thought his sentence complete; and Harriet, leaning over Margaret, whispered, "Mothers, and that:—to think that old Chaucer's delicate idea should have found its way into such a head, no wonder it comes out again rather garbled!"
Still Mr. Gage stood fronting Harriet, with his eyes fixed full upon her; and still she perversely avoided meeting his glance.
"We owe you a thousand thanks, Miss Markham," she said, turning graciously to that young lady, "for your accompaniment:—the second movement is no sinecure to play."
"I was very happy, I am sure, to be of any use," said Miss Markham, amiably.
"Perhaps you will be able to induce Mr. Humphries to give us 'Di pescator ignobile.' I forget who was your singing master, Mr. Humphries?"
"Oh! I learned when I was at Oxford of one of the choristers. I had three lessons a week all the time I was there; and glee meetings besides of an evening."
"All you ever did learn there, I'll engage!" whispered Harriet, as Mr. Humphries went to the piano.
Margaret looked anxiously at Harriet, and at Mr. Gage; she seemed so determined not to notice him, and he looked equally resolved to make her speak.
"So it was you making all that noise," said Harriet, turning carelessly round; "I thought the dogs had gone mad!"
"Donald recognised me, I believe," said Mr. Gage; "the noise was of his making, not mine."
"Oh, do you hear him!" cried Harriet; "is not that good. I must tell Uncle Singleton that when I can catch him. Did any body give you any dinner, Mr. Gage, when you arrived?"
"Thank you—no. I underwent that ceremony on the road."
"I envy you. I like dining at an inn; don't you, Margaret?"
"I have not yet had an opportunity of congratulating you on the marriage of your sister with Lord Raymond," said Mr. Gage, with emphasis.
"Thank you very much," returned Harriet; "only the affair is almost a fortnight old, and one has nearly forgotten all about it. How long do you think, Mr. Gordon, one may offer congratulations after a wedding?"
"I really have hardly considered the subject," said Mr. Gordon: "I should say, perhaps, during the honeymoon a very good distinction; so you see, Mr. Gage, you have still a fortnight left."
"I was surprised, I own," said Mr. Gage; "I had not imagined Lord Raymond's selection would have fallen where it did."
"Lord Raymond was a wise man, Mr. Gage," said Harriet, laughing; "and knew when he was well off."
Mr. Gage looked earnestly at her for a few moments, and then moved away.
"Hark you, ma mie," said Harriet, leaning towards Margaret, "you would hardly believe how I long for a good laugh at this moment. I know George so well!—Now, he has actually taken the trouble to get leave of absence as soon as ever he heard of this marriage, and to come over here to see how I bear the shock of Lord Raymond's marriage. He believes me a disappointed wretch; and that the very good spirits I am in to-night are merely forced, to conceal the anguish of a breaking heart;" and Harriet, unable any longer to restrain her laughter, fell back in her chair, and gave way to one burst of merriment after another.
"Did you see, Margaret, how he fixed his eyes upon me to detect, if he could, the constraint I was putting on my feelings; how he watched for some trace of suffering in my voice; something to betray the anguish within; and the stress he laid on Lord Raymond, as if he would have asked how I liked parting with my especial property. I would not have missed this scene for any thing in life!"
"Oh, Harriet! do not laugh so. He is looking at you!"
"No great wonder in that, my dear, since he has come all the way from Ireland for that especial purpose."
"Mr. Gage! I wish to show you the bracelet Lord Raymond gave me on the morning of his marriage. Look! this is Lucy's hair. I told him not to put any of his straw-coloured stuff along with it, to spoil the effect. I rather like those dolphins fretted with rubies; they have an eastern look. He would clasp it on, over my swansdown cuff, and I did not like to take it off, though I had the pleasure of telling him he had done me an incredible deal of mischief."
Mr. Gage stood looking attentively at the bracelet, which she had unclasped, and given into his hand.
"Do you not think it very handsome?" she said.
"Very. It would almost have reconciled you to the match had you been averse to it," said Mr. Gage.
"It did not reconcile me to his crushing my beautiful swansdown," said Harriet. "Here, give it me; you cannot put it on. Margaret shall clasp it."
"It must have been a trying day to you on the whole," said Mr. Gage, employing himself as he spoke in fastening the bracelet on Harriet's arm, regardless of her hint.
"Why, between you and I, it was," said Harriet, holding up her embroidered handkerchief by two corners, and contemplating the pattern of the point lace, as she leaned back in the chair. "First, I had to get up early—a thing I detest in cold weather; then—let me see, what was my next trouble? Oh! my shoes were too long; and I was obliged to steal a pair of Lucy's:—and then, Margaret, when Lucy was nearly dressed, and I expected her to sit down by the fire, and have some breakfast in peace and quietness she suddenly leaned up against mamma's bureau, and burst out crying. I was never so taken aback in my life; for she is not given to demonstrations; and what to say to her, I knew not. I could not tell her she was not going to be married; and that seemed to be the cause of her grief. However, we managed with salts and essences, and scolding and coaxing, to bring her round; and then we got on very well till after breakfast, when we came to the parting. Now, you know, Margaret, in the same county, it can hardly be called a parting. But then Lucy began again; and Lord Raymond did so fuss, and so stammer, by way of consoling her. And when they were off, and the company melted away—what do you think I did? I got into plain clothes again as fast as possible; and sat down to stuff your box of cake full of bon-bons, I took you for the little girl you were when I left you. Mr. Gage, a compliment, Sir, quick now!"
"I would not offend Miss Capel by supposing that I could compliment her," said Mr. Gage.
"Aha! Margaret, the fun we will have at Wardenscourt! The riding and driving; the parties and dances; the plays—the tableaux!"
And Harriet went on eagerly planning a visit with Margaret to her sister, as soon as Lord and Lady Raymond were settled at Wardenscourt. Mr. Gage seemed for a wonder to be completely puzzled. He remained gazing at Harriet in the greatest uncertainty, endeavouring to reconcile to himself the sparkling and mischievous enjoyment that her looks expressed, with the misery she must be feeling upon the destruction of all her ambitious hopes. Harriet, regardless of those remorseless eyes, went on conversing gaily with Mr. Humphries and two or three other gentlemen; while Mr. Gage sometimes concluded that she was the best actress in the world; sometimes, that as her heart was not engaged in the matter, she was able to bear without much pain the loss of a good match; sometimes, that whatever her feelings might have been, she intended to console herself with the hand of Mr. Humphries.
This idea filled him with indignation; for Mr. Humphries, without the merit of a title, was more unprepossessing in appearance than Lord Raymond himself; and Mr. Gage, like many men in the army, thought, that next to good birth and the glory of serving Her Majesty, stood the inestimable and incalculable advantage of possessing a fine person.
"Harriet is looking well, don't you think?" said Mr. Singleton, coming up to Mr. Gage.
The fact was too incontestible to admit of a dispute, for Harriet was looking handsomer than ever she had done in her life; and Mr. Gage said so. Harriet was at a little distance, about to leave the room for the night. Margaret rose to follow her.
"Ah!" said Mr. Singleton, on hearing Mr. Gage's flattering opinion of his niece, "Well, never mind; it will all come right one day yet."
Margaret overheard the exclamation, given in the hearty tone of the old sportsman; and Harriet's former remark seemed to ring in her ears:
"These things never do come right again, Margaret."
CHAPTER III
Wordes sharply wound, but greatest grief of scorning growes.
SPENSER.
Tal d'un alma l'effanno sepolto
Si travede in un riso fallace,
Ché la pace mal finge nel volto
Chi si sente la guerra nel cor.
METASTASIO.
Mr. Singleton breakfasted at nine o'clock; and it was the custom of the house for everybody to appear at that meal. At half past eight, the worthy squire read prayers in the chapel; and at this ceremony all the servants, and such visitors as pleased, attended.
This had been a custom in the house from the days of Edward the Sixth; and Mr. Singleton would on no account have omitted it; though his performance of this duty was something odd. Any one might have thought from his tones, that he was calling over the names of his hounds. Margaret made a point of attending; and found Mrs. Singleton, Harriet, and Mr. Humphries assembled.
As soon as prayers were over, Harriet hurried off to make breakfast; and commanded Margaret to sit beside her; and by degrees the rest of the visitors assembled round the table. Some little time after they were all collected, George Gage came into the room; made some very earnest inquiries after Mrs. Singleton's health; which that lady imperfectly heard, and replied to very mildly; and then begged to know whether Miss Capel had recovered the fatigue of her journey. Having received a satisfactory answer to this question, he remained standing on the hearth-rug, looking at all the people, as if they were eating and drinking for his sole amusement.
"Do you ever eat breakfast, Mr. Gage?" asked Harriet, after he had remained some time in the same position.
"Thank you—yes. I breakfasted an hour ago."
"How was that?" asked Mr. Singleton. "What made you so early afield?"
"I was anxious about one of my horses," said Mr. Gage. "I was afraid he had sprained his shoulder; and as I wished to see him early this morning—I breakfasted at the same time."
"Oh, but that is important!" said Mr. Humphries, rising hastily, and pulling the table-cloth crooked as he rose, "shall I go and have a look at him?"
"Sit still, Mr. Humphries;" said Harriet. "Horses, we know, are much more amiable and important than their masters. Still, as the masters must be fed some time or other, they had better take their meals at the proper hour. The horse will wait till you have finished your breakfast."
Mr. Singleton and Mr. Humphries laughed heartily at this address; and Mr. Gage informed Mr. Humphries, that he need not trouble him to look at the horse, for that he seemed to be perfectly well this morning.
Mr. Humphries nodded to express his acquiescence in this remark, and continued eating; and Mr. Singleton noticing, for the first time, that Harriet was not dressed in her habit, asked in astonishment why she was not going out hunting with them as usual.
"Yes, you will have a great loss in me," said Harriet laughing. "I intend to disappoint the field. I am not going to run off this first day that I have Miss Capel with me; and I have something to do—I intend to call on the Veseys in the course of the morning."
"Wait till to-morrow, and I'll drive you over;" said Mr. Singleton. "I should like to call on the Veseys myself."
"Indeed you won't, Uncle Singleton," said Harriet. "You always knock my bonnet with your elbow as you get in and out of the carriage. I vowed the last time I let you drive me, you should not sacrifice my next best bonnet in that worthless way."
"Ha! ha!" said Mr. Singleton, "what does it signify? You have the best seat and the best horse in the country, and what matters spoiling your bonnet."
"Go! you have no feelings," said Harriet. "I mean to ride to the Veseys to-day, and Margaret and Evan shall accompany me; and so we shall trouble nobody, good uncle. Another cup of tea, Mr. Humphries? Why you make absolutely no breakfast! Is this a preparation for a day's hard hunting? Try that curried lobster."
"Ha! ha! thank you Miss Conway, I think I have done very well," said Mr. Humphries; looking on the wrecks scattered on and around his plate.
Everybody was inclined to be of his opinion; and Margaret wondered how Harriet could say such things with a grave face.
"I wish," pursued Mr. Humphries, "this was not a hunting morning, because it would be so pleasant to ride with you to the Veseys."
"But which is the attraction, Mr. Humphries? Is it Mrs. Vesey, or I, or my friend, Miss Capel? Do now be confidential and tell me; I will keep your secret, upon my word!"
Mr. Humphries laughed bashfully; he could not very well scrape his foot when seated; but he made a gesture something as if he wished to lift up the table-cloth, and disappear beneath it. George Gage, looking every moment more haughty, stared down upon Harriet and Mr. Humphries in speechless contempt.
At last he coldly recommended Mr. Humphries not to lose a day at that time of year; for that his groom predicted a frost soon, and he had never known the fellow mistaken in the weather.
"Is that the man you had from Mr. Singleton's," asked Harriet.
"Yes—Thompson," replied Mr. Gage.
"Ah!" returned Harriet, "he was well brought up; it would be his own fault if he did not learn to understand horses here."
"Did Captain Gage keep the lad I recommended him?" asked Mr. Singleton.
"Not long," replied Mr. Gage. "I never saw any thing so wretched as my father's management of his stables. He never bought a horse that he was not palpably cheated; and, if he chanced to buy a good one, the animal would be ruined, with that lame old sailor at the head of affairs."
"Don't say one word against Captain Gage," exclaimed Harriet. "Whatever he does is sure to be better than any body else. I do not mean wiser, Mr. Gage, but better. Perhaps no one else would choose to have a lame sailor with one eye to superintend his stables. It shows he has more kindness than his neighbours."
"He might have pensioned the old fellow, if he was so fond of him, instead of keeping him to do mischief," said Mr. Gage; pleased, however, with the tribute to his father's goodness of heart. "He once ruined a splendid pointer of mine with his nonsense; and even Hubert, a fellow who has spent his life in a frigate, could not help seeing how things were going on."
Here Mr. Humphries, whose extraordinary face had brightened up as much as it could, during this discussion, attempted to express incoherently, his admiration of Captain Gage's conduct.
"Depend on it, Mr. Humphries," said Harriet, "that sailors are the best people extant. They are all that is left of the romance of warfare. Like the knights of the Middle Ages, there is a simple reality about them that does not belong to the present time."
"Harriet means to say, they are the only people who are not humbugs," said Evan Conway, translating his sister's remark.
"It is very true, Miss Conway," said Mr. Humphries; who, it need not be said, did not understand one word that she had uttered; "I always liked sailors very much. Don't you think Miss Capel would be generally considered pretty?"
"Undoubtedly, Mr. Humphries. I was sure your good taste would discover that."
"They are bringing round the horses, Miss Conway. I wish we were to have the pleasure of your company."
"It is a great temptation, Mr. Humphries; but another time. How well you look in your red coat—it is the most becoming dress—"
"No—do you think so!" said Mr. Humphries, with a visible desire to vanish under the table. "No—I never noticed. I say, Miss Conway, I hope we shall have another duet this evening."
"So do I. You cannot suppose I often meet with such a second; and I am very fond of music."
"Come, Humphries," said Mr. Gage, stalking past them as he spoke; "there is your horse playing the deuce out yonder, standing so long."
This was a summons he could not neglect; and after scrambling for his pocket handkerchief, which had dropped under his chair, Mr. Humphries quitted the room.
"Oh, Harriet!" exclaimed Margaret, with a serious look, when the other ladies had disappeared in company with Mrs. Singleton.
"Oh, little Puritan! what is the matter now?" returned Harriet, catching her round the waist, and whirling her in a rapid waltz round and round the large room.
"How you do flirt," said Margaret, pausing, with her hand to her side.
"You should be the last person to accuse me," said Harriet, laughing. "I asked you, if you would have the man. You declined the honour, and therefore it is no business of yours."
"It is a business of some other persons, then," said Margaret, archly.
"What other person?"
"Mr. Gage."
"You don't say so!" returned Harriet, crossing the room, and leaning through the deep oaken door-way, "Evan!"
"At your service," returned her brother, coming in with the morning paper in his hand.
"We mean to ride at two; and you may accompany us."
"Thank you very much."
"Will this be your first essay in horsemanship?" asked Margaret, smiling.
"Ha! Miss Capel, you remember what I said to you. A great point that—I feel highly flattered by it."
Margaret smiled quietly, and moved away. She had too much self-possession to be either flattered or pleased by his ironical civility.
When they went up-stairs to prepare for their ride, Harriet, whose ways were singularly independent, came into Margaret's room, half attired, and stood before the large glass arranging her habit.
"Look here, Margaret," said she, "you should wear a waistcoat."
"Masculine?"
"Not at all; copy me, my dear, I dress very well on horseback."
"So you do at all times, I think," said Margaret.
"Much obliged. I say, what do you think of Evan?"
"I should be so very likely to tell you truly," said Margaret.
"Then I will tell you what to think of him," said Harriet, "he has an excellent head, my dear, but no heart; he thinks he will be a very great man. I differ from him; no very great man ever was heartless. He will be only a little above the middle size. I like him very much."
"How odd you are, Harriet."
"Do you think so, ma mie? What a pretty Victorine you have—sable I see."
"Now, Mr. Humphries—ha! ha! one cannot help laughing when one thinks of him—has a capital heart, but no head. Which do you like best, Margaret?"
"The heart," replied Margaret.
"But then, my dear, like most Englishmen, his nerves are actually made of pack thread; he has not a grain of sensibility. He is ugly. I tell Evan sometimes that he is ugly to a misfortune; but this man is ugly to a fault. But he is an excellent son to a very tiresome old mother; honest, good-natured, rich, obstinate. I do not know if he has any other qualities, or I would tell you. I think it my duty to walk you over the course, you perceive."
"You make an excellent chaperon, Harriet."
"But Margaret," said Harriet with a hurried change of manner, "I never knew any-thing so good as George coming here just now. It gives me pleasure to see that I can torment his pride, not his feelings; but his absurd haughty conceit, that I was to remain his slave under all treatment. I do not care for him the least atom, and I despise his coming to pry into my concerns, to investigate and to triumph in my distress, as he thinks, on Lucy's marriage. I can turn the tables on him, and I will!"
"Indeed, Harriet," said Margaret, "it is hardly generous in you to take that view of Mr. Gage's conduct. I think he would not have taken so much trouble, if he had not been very much interested about you. I think ever since I have known you both, he has appeared to feel any-thing but indifference to you; and if you cannot return his feelings, is it fair to treat them with contempt?"
Margaret spoke earnestly, yet half afraid of giving offence; but to her surprise, as soon as she had finished, her eccentric friend caught her in her arms, and kissed her heartily; then gathering up the long folds of her habit she hastened down stairs.
Mr. Evan Conway was leaning against the neck of his sister's horse, without his hat, or any sign of being prepared to accompany the ladies; a groom was mounted, and in waiting. He helped them both to mount, arranged their dresses with great care and then left them.
"So we are not to have the honour of your company," Harriet called after him.
He replied by a shake of the head, and went into the house.
They paid their visit. Mrs. Vesey was a young married woman, with four or five small children, who very much occupied her time and thoughts. The conversation was chiefly made up of things which Johnny and Matilda had said; of the quarrel which Harry had with the nurse, and the beautiful cake which uncle Richard had sent to Mary on her birthday. Then the children were produced, in velvet frocks, and long trained ringlets of white hair, and these having been kissed and praised enough, the two friends took their leave.
"Ah, that is over!" said Harriet, when they rode off, "I like children well enough, Margaret, to make hay with, or play at blindman's buff; but I always long to pinch those little dressed up dolls. If Lucy should have any olive branches, I shall make them as rude and as natural as possible."
"How soft the wind is," said Margaret, "it is often colder than this in summer."
It was certainly a mild day for November. Although the twilight was coming on, there was nothing chilly in the air. The wind drove slowly before it large floating masses of grey clouds; the leafless trees rocked majestically to and fro in the dim light; and the scent of the air, and of the fallen leaves was soft and refreshing.
Before they had gone very far they were overtaken by Mr. Gage and Mr. Humphries, who were returning from hunting.
"Well—oh! now—come!" exclaimed Mr. Humphries, who was sometimes troubled with incoherence, "how glad I am that we came home this way."
"It is, indeed, a very fortunate circumstance," said Mr. Gage, addressing himself pointedly to Margaret, "I hope you will really value our escort now that it is growing so dark."
"Yes, it is a lonely road about here," said Mr. Humphries, closing up to Harriet.
"I never am afraid of any-thing," said Harriet, "but I am glad of your company, because I wish to know what sort of a run you had."
Mr. Humphries was very much enlivened by this demand upon his descriptive powers. By the aid of a very few words, and a great many extraordinary gestures, he conveyed to Harriet the information she desired.
Mr. Gage, looking the very impersonation of injured pride, suffered them to take the lead, and then riding up close to Margaret, and laying his hand affectionately on the mane of her horse, he exerted all his powers to make himself agreeable.
He was intent on persuading Margaret to ride some day to the place where the hunters met. It was a very gay scene on a fine morning, and would make a pleasant change for her. Although nobody could disapprove more strongly than he did, a lady following the hounds, yet just to ride to cover, and go quietly home again, he thought quite feminine, and perfectly allowable.
Margaret, who readily perceived that Mr. Gage was extremely angry with Harriet, and that this was the cause of his invectives against ladies hunting, could not help smiling, but she willingly consented to his plan, provided he could secure her a horse so conveniently stupid, as not to become excited by the scene. And then, the spirit of romance being not yet extinguished within her, she began turning over in her own mind how she could manage that Mr. Gage should ride next to Harriet. Chance effected the transfer for her; in turning down a lane, Mr. Humphries reined back his horse, and Mr. Gage pushing forward at the same time, the manœuvre was accomplished. But it seemed to very little purpose. Harriet kept her head perversely turned to the hedge-row, as if bent on counting the feathered clusters of traveller's ivy, which adorned the wayside, or else leaning back in her saddle, she addressed some laughing remark to those behind. While Margaret rose very high in the opinion of Mr. Humphries, from the simple and kind answers she gave to all his questions, and from the grace with which she guided her delicate looking steed. He began to think that she might be deserving of a share in the rich estates which his prudent mamma was always cautioning him against offering to any lady who gave evidence of particularly wishing for them. It was very easy to see that this worthy young man was not gifted with any great degree of sensibility, but yet Margaret was a little surprised when, after a few remarks interchanged about their favourite colours for dogs, horses, &c.; her companion, looking rather uncomfortable, which was his nearest approach to a sentimental state of mind, suddenly asked her if some fellow who wrote had not said that music was the food of love, and if she thought it was.