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sary to check. When he entered the grounds, his step became slower, and he took two or three turns under the trees, before he could get rid of the uncomfortable ideas his late conversation had excited.

His companion was not condemned to solitary reflection, after parting from him. Mrs. Holcombe was sitting in her dressing-gown; waiting for her husband. She looked somewhat curious as to the cause of his delay in returning, and said, rather sarcastically, that he must have found Miss Derwent's society more agreeable than she had done.

He told her that, either from dejection or shyness, Laura had scarcely spoken. Miss Le Sage, on the contrary, appeared to him very agreeable.

"You may lay aside your fears about Sir Frederick, in that quarter, Sophy:" he added, after they had talked for a little while, condescending to explain himself more clearly. "I have been at some pains to investigate the

matter, and I doubt her being at all the sort of person to captivate Derwent. She is neither silly nor artful enough to flatter him as a man nearly fifty, old enough to be her father, would require; and shows very plainly, that she is not thinking about him half so much as of the last opera or gallery of pictures she saw, in Italy. He is a miserable coward, too, about money-matters; and, because he has to pay the interest on a considerable amount of debt, thinks himself fettered for life. Instead of talking about these girls and their music, he has been going through the statistics of his property, all the way home, and is thinking of a journey to London, next week, to consult his lawyer. I daresay, in point of fact, he is tired of being quiet, and wants a change. With his careless habits, and a heavy load of encumbrances, he will be in serious difficulties, if he does not take warning, before many years are past. Lady Fortescue has ten thousand times a better chance, just now, than the

handsomest girl in England. I always told you that it was ridiculous to encourage Penelope in expecting proposals from a man who could not possibly keep up Maydwell Place, without either making retrenchments, the very thought of which he abhors, or gaining by marriage a considerable addition to his income. Depend upon it, old Derwent is not in the least likely, at his time of life, to make a fool of himself, and marry a girl without fortune!"

CHAPTER XII.

LEWIS PEMBERTON would never have endured the life he led at Languard, if it had not been for the love he entertained for the place itself; above all, for the garden, where he exercised almost unlimited authority. Roger and Rebecca never set foot there. The tiger-lilies had blossomed and faded; and now the hollyhocks were coming into blow, under the high wall, without having their bright colours blasted by the evil eye of the master of the mansion. If he had known the pleasure Lewis took in their beauty, and the solace these dumb companions afforded, amidst the daily and hourly vexations of his brother's existence, this jealous, narrowminded mortal would have rooted up every flower in the borders.

But he cared so little for such innocent pleasures that it never occurred to him, when the old green door in the passage swung to after Lewis, that the young man felt a load fall from his shoulders. A few steps farther, and light and liberty, sweet sounds and pleasant odours, welcomed him from the garden. The humming of the bees, the twitter of the sparrows, the sweeter melody of the robin and other songsters among the bushes, were the only voices of his home which were not discordant to his ears.

There was no wrangling and disputing among the plants, as he passed from one to another, in the cool of the evening, though they seemed waiting for the refreshing shower he threw over them. The shadows are creeping on; another half-hour, and they will fall over the whole space enclosed by the high walls of the house and garden. Have patience a little longer, pretty flowerets, on which the sun shines latest, and your turn will arrive. You

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