with a lighter heart. Mrs. Clair praised her performance in a patronizing way, and was prevailed on by Lady Maud to sing a duet with Gertrude; but as Gertrude was imperfectly acquainted with the words, and Mrs. Clair had forgotten the accompaniment, the attempt was only partially successful, and ended in a compromise that they should sing in succession their own songs.

Gertrude had rarely sung even before such a moderate assemblage as the present, but got on very well; only Mr. Lovell would turn over the leaves too soon, and with such a solemn expression of face that she feared to remonstrate; and Miss Beverley would sit just before the piano, exhibiting an agonized anxiety for her pupil's success in a variety of ways,-beating time with her tea-spoon on the saucer; smiling wildly when asked by Sir Eliot Prichard what was the name of the song; frowning authoritatively at Gertrude when her voice trembled a little as it dwelt on G fiat. Insomuch that Lady Maud at length gently led her to the other end of the room to play chess with Colonel Clair, who had never played before in his life, but, fascinated by Lady Maud's winning manners, assented to her proposal without a moment's consideration. Accordingly, the Colonel passed the remainder of the evening in the agreeable occupation of learning the moves; a task so distracting to his brain, that he dreamed, after retiring to rest, he was a knight at chess, vainly striving to move in the oblique fashion peculiar to that piece.

Mr. Rubbley talked about railways to Mr. Usherwood, whom he endeavoured to inspire with those sanguine views which," after mature deliberation," he himself had embraced. A task not very easy, seeing that Mr. Rubbley was in quite a different position to Mr. Usherwood, having purchased a large number of shares in the stock of the Rentworth Railway Company with his own iron, and sold them again before the great fall took place. Barring this slight difference in their relative circumstances, they got on very well; and Mr. Usherwood, until cooler reflection dissolved the hallucination, felt comforted and refreshed, and even went through the form of confidentially drinking "Prosperity to the Rentworth Railway!" in a glass of negus, aside to Rubbley. Rubbley, though he knew it was a mockery, re-echoed the sentiment in a jovial whisper.

Sir Eliot complimented Lady Maud on Gertrude's appear

ance with the air of a man of large experience in feminine beauty and accomplishments. He asked many questions, circuitously and diplomatically, about the same young lady, the answers to which Miss Beverley with her quick eye observed him secretly enter in a small memorandum book, whilst he was pretending to admire the portrait of Lady Maud's late lamented great-grandmother," the Countess of Delafield."

CHAPTER VI.

THE RIVALS.

IN a day or two Nugent, once more reinstated at the Manorhouse Farm, was immersed in business both in-doors and out, work having of course fallen in arrears during his enforced confinement to a sick-room. The change from pleasant society in a large luxurious mansion to his own solitary and secluded home, was great. But Nugent felt it was his duty to resist any tendency to discontent or weak depression of spirits, and did his best accordingly. Once or twice, indeed, during the first week following his return, he had recourse, by way of transient consolation, to a talk with Mrs. Finchley; but that lady's topics were invariably of a complexion rather dismal. She descanted on the misfortunes and sufferings of the Nugent family-described the illness of his late father-gave the fullest account of his mother's funeral-narrated the deathbed scenes of personal friends in the neighbourhood-quoted several sentences out of Drelincourt on Death, and all this in so unearthly a tone of voice, like the ghost in Hamlet, that his spirits sank lower and lower, until he made an effort and rushed out of the apartment. Even then his trouble was not over. In the course of the evening, Mrs. Finchley, anxious on account of his health, followed him into his study, bearing a glass of some nauseous mixture from the family medicine chest, which she almost forced down his throat; and finding he could not be prevailed on to swallow it, drank it off herself, lest it should be wasted.

Nugent did not wish to show any importunity in renewing his intimacy with the Usherwoods; but Lady Maud was careful it should not drop. Notes and messages-inquiries after his health, and invitations to dinner-were frequent.

At length Mr. Usherwood and Lady Maud paid a joint visit to inquire about a lady's horse Nugent had recommended for Miss Usherwood's use. In the course of conversation, Nugent, on the impulse of the moment, offered to take charge of the animal for a few weeks, and break him thoroughly in, lest he should prove too fiery and headstrong. This proposal, gratefully accepted, led to Nugent's riding with the young lady once or twice a week, accompanied by one of the younger girls, as well as the faithful John. Now and then they took a gallop along the downs above the Manor Farm. Both were fond of this particular ride, and gave their horses the reins without speaking, in silent enjoyment of the free and rapid rush over the elastic turf and through the fresh mountain air. John and the younger sister followed at a sedater pace; the one apparently in a state of solemn reverie, the latter impatient at the restraint imposed on her.

It may be said that these attentions on the part of Nugent were decidedly marked and unmistakeable; but it must be remembered that he was some ten years older than Gertrude -a difference at her age of some importance. Moreover, the parents of the young lady encouraged his joining her for the sake of the advantages accruing from his instructions in the equestrian art.

Nugent at first deluded himself into the idea that he looked upon her merely as a child-a sort of younger sister. In a little time, however, he found her image haunt him in a way unfavourable to agricultural interests,-found that at times his heart beat very fast and his breathing suddenly oppressed-symptoms entirely new to him, and always exactly coincident with a rencontre with Miss Usherwood, whether it was at a dinner-party in the neighbourhood when she glided in after Lady Maud; whether it was during a solitary ride when he saw far off, on the crest of the hill, or turning the corner of some shady lane, a lady on horseback, whose light and buoyant figure he recognized with half a glance.

Nugent began seriously to question the prudence and the blamelessness of his familiar intercourse with Gertrude, when a circumstance occurred which induced him to make up his mind more rapidly than he intended. He had promised to meet Gertrude at a particular bridge that spanned one of the many streamlets traversing the valley, in order to take one of their usual rides. A few minutes after the appointed time, Nugent slowly rode up to the bridge in question, and to his

surprise, but not exactly to his gratification, observed, besides Gertrude, her sisters, and the coachman, another person-a gentleman well mounted, who seemed in animated conversation with Gertrude. On approaching the group, he found this addition to their riding-party was no less a personage than Sir Eliot Prichard, quite at his ease, and in high force.

Nugent, vexed at having kept Gertrude waiting, exculpated himself by producing his large hunting-watch, a legacy of his father's, and declared that the rest of the party were ten minutes before the time of rendezvous.

Sir Eliot, who greeted Nugent with an air of goodhumoured toleration more annoying than any degree of stiffness or hauteur, instantly produced an elegant Geneva watch, and assured Nugent that his timepiece must be out of order, for it was at least a quarter of an hour slow-an assertion which the chimes of a church clock, not far distant, at that moment chanced to corroborate. The fact was, that Nugent's methodical habits and attention to punctuality had been of late rather relaxed, and his watch, usually kept in accurate order, had suffered in consequence. He instantly owned his fault, but this trifling incident gave him some annoyance. They all forthwith started for their ride. Sir Eliot invited himself to be of the party, and coolly, as Nugent thought, took up his position at Gertrude's right hand, leaving him, the lane being narrow, to trot behind, sometimes with one of the girls, sometimes jostling against John. Now, John having been enjoined by Gertrude to keep exactly ten yards behind her sisters, rigidly adhered to the order, and sternly pressed forwards despite every transient interruption, whether it was a score of bewildered sheep springing to and fro in every direction-whether it was an agitated regiment of ducklings floundering in the middle of the road having temporarily lost their presence of mind-whether it was a corpulent cart-horse escaped from a field and entangled in the procession of riders, trotting onwards with a calm and satisfied eye, as if he thought himself no small accession to the respectability of the party.

As soon as they got into a broader road, Nugent left the two young ladies to John's care, and rode forwards until he was in a line with Gertrude and her companion. For some time he had not an opportunity of putting in a word. Sir Eliot was fluent, and, not being oppressed with modesty, brought readily to the surface of his mind all that a retentive

memory had stored there. Gertrude seemed decidedly amused. Then, when Nugent did say something in explanation of a local legend or superstition, Sir Eliot waited when he had done speaking as if he expected more to follow, politely bending his ear toward him in patient anticipation of the point of the story. Having thus mildly damped Nugent's inclination to talk, Sir Eliot began to ask questions about his farm, his crops, and his live stock, as if adjusting his conversation to Nugent's farmer-like calibre.

"By the by, Mr. Nugent," he exclaimed, pointing with his whip, "that's your arable yonder, if I mistake not. You've got it into very fair order now. It must be hard work for you walking over that clay land. But I suppose you arm yourself with stout shoes, and a good honest pair of gaiters. How are oats now? Flattish, I fear. Ah! you must have many an anxious night of it. Yes, Miss Usherwood, you may smile, but farmers have a wearing life of it, a wearing life. Up early and down late! By the by, Mr. Nugent, I should like to buy a likely young sow, if you can spare one. You are famous for pigs, I know. But then you don't spare trouble with them, I'll be bound. Why, there's Wriggles now, a tenant of mine. He gets up at two in the morning to turn his prize pigs over on their side with his own hands, and feeds them with suet dumplings! How do you like Gubbins, the new landlord of the Jolly Farmers?' I believe that's where you put up on market-days. Much company there? Ah! I'll answer for it, you have many a merry meeting after the cares of the market! Gubbins was my groom, and is a good judge of malt liquor; at least he ought to be, for he has swallowed a good many hogsheads in his day! Don't you let him impose on any of you, Mr. Nugent. He's a sharp dog."

In this strain Sir Eliot persevered, seemingly intent on exhibiting Nugent in the light of a commonplace yeoman. Now, Nugent never pretended to be anything else than he really was, and at first took Sir Eliot's allusions quietly enough, thus frustrating the attempts of his companion to make him ridiculous in Gertrude's eyes. His gentlemanly composure provoked Sir Eliot, and goaded him on further than he meant, so that Nugent began to comprehend his drift, and seeking to give Sir Eliot a check, exclaimed,—

"I don't know much about the Jolly Farmers,' Sir Eliot; but certainly some of my fraternity patronize it, and from