of your company; but I do not mean to go out this forenoon. Go, my love," said she to Clara," and tell Jenkinson to give you a walk."

"Me not like to walk with Jenkinson," said Clara, pouting, and seating herself on a footstool close to Catherine.

"It is a pity poor Clara should lose her walk," said Ellinor. "Will you go with me, my love ?"

At this unexpected kindness, Clara opened her large blue eyes, and looked up in Ellinor's face with an air of the utmost surprise.

“You are very obliging,” replied Catherine. "I am sure Clara will be happy to go with you."

Clara said nothing, and as silence is supposed to give consent, Ellinor, in high goodhumour at the prospect of a tête-à-tête walk with Sir Pelham, went off to equip for the ramble; and Catherine, never doubting Sir Pelham's intention to accompany her cou

sin, congratulated herself on having secured the enjoyment of a few quiet hours.

During Ellinor's absence, Catherine, at Sir Pelham's request, seated herself at the harp, and they were in the middle of Il Mio Tesoro, when Ellinor returned, armed for conquest. The performers stopped, and Catherine rose from her chair, and put up the pedals of the harp, which was as much as to say, the concert was at an end; but she soon found that "the best laid schemes of mice and men" are sometimes overturned; for Sir Pelham, saying to Ellinor, "Permit me to see you down stairs," politely opened the door for her and Clara, and saw them safely out, then returned coolly up stairs to Catherine, to beg she would repeat a certain passage, in the time of which he thought he was not quite correct. Glad to see that his dejection was wearing off, Catherine goodnaturedly exerted herself to amuse him, and sung and played with the most laudable perseverance, till the entrance of visitors put

an end to the concert, and Sir Pelham, finding her attention occupied by the new arrivals, soon after withdrew.

CHAPTER VI.

To sit and watch the beaming eye,
That never turns to thee;

To mark the smile, to note the sigh,
Another wins, and that one nigh,—
Ah! this is misery!

To mark the maiden glance of love

Shoot from a lustrous eye

Upon another, when above

Aught, even in Heaven, you prize her love,—
What is it then to die?

PERCY YORKE-The Bequest.

AT this period of our chronicle, unhappily for Willoughby, he was forced unexpectedly to absent himself some time on regimental business; but his impatience to see Catherine carried him to Hope Street on the very day of his return, and his con

sternation may be imagined on finding her seated at the harp, and Sir Pelham Talmash leaning over her chair, regarding her with looks of passionate admiration; while Ellinor sat at a distance from them, apparently engaged in reading. When Willoughby entered, the consciousness that Ellinor was watching every look, threw Catherine into the deepest confusion; but this, and her crimsoned cheek, the jealousy of Willoughby attributed to a very different cause. Mastering his feelings by a violent effort, however, he affected a composure very foreign to the real state of his mind, and entered into conversation with Ellinor, while Catherine, dreading the reproaches of her cousin, never once raised her eyes; and wholly unconscious of the agony she had in flicted, soon after received his adieus, her own embarrassment preventing her from perceiving the grief and confusion which he found it impossible entirely to conceal.

Although Ellinor feared that the game was going against her, she determined not