CHAPTER XXII.

Armado. Boy, what sign is it when a man of great spirit grows melancholy?

Moth. A great sign, sir, that he will look sad.

Love's Labour Lost.

"REALLY, ladies," said Captain Sefton, next morning," you ought to be ashamed of such late hours. We ought to have had breakfast long since.-Miss Dundas, you are in a fair way of losing your character for early rising."

Nay," replied Catherine," if you keep such fashionable hours at night, you can scarcely expect us to rise with the lark in the morning."

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Willoughby and I are quite vain of our exploits. Do you know, we were out by the break of day, and the seat is nearly

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for

completed? Do come and look at it.-We shall require your services of interpreter," continued he, addressing Catherine, the old gardener speaks the broadest Scotch I ever heard. I cannot comprehend above one word out of ten."

"I am infinitely flattered by the compliment," replied Catherine, with much gravity.

"Nay," said Sefton, "I don't mean to accuse you of talking the Scotch language; but you cannot deny that you understand

it ?"

"To that, I believe, I must plead guilty: but shall we go now? Here is poor Clara all impatience for a race in the garden."

"Here, my good friend," said Sefton, addressing the old gardener, "we have brought the ladies to admire the rustic seat we have been constructing for them."

"I reckon," replied John," they'll be your twa marrows; and real bonny they are, and that's a braw lassie wi' them."

"What does he mean by marrows?"

13

asked Sefton; but Catherine, affecting not to hear him, addressed John, "This seat really does great credit to your taste. The rustic work is very pretty; you must have laboured very hard to get it done so soon."

"It's no sae taiglesome either, when ane sets about it heartily. I was just telling your gudeman there," pointing to Willoughby, “that I made no long ago a whole summer-house o' this kind o' wark; but I dinna think he kent very weel what I was saying. He's a Southron by his tongue; but I'm thinking your leddyship was born on the north side o' the Tweed ?"

"You are quite right,” replied Catherine, in some confusion, and not daring to lift her eyes, as Willoughby was standing close to her, who, she feared, understood what the old man was saying.

"Weel, now," answered John, leaning on his spade, and putting on a most sagacious air," you see there's nae cheating a Scotchman. I thought ye hadna the look o' a Southron-no that I hae ought to say

against them-but ye ken folks aye like their ain country best; and it's right it should be sae.-I dare say now," he continued, addressing Willoughby, "you'll no like your leddy's country sae weel as your ain? it canna be expected that ye should."

Willoughby, who, as Catherine surmised, knew enough of the Scotch language to enable him to make out the meaning of John's remarks, glanced towards her, to see how she was taking the affair, and just caught a glimpse of a glowing cheek, when she hastily turned away, on pretence of showing Clara a bird's nest in the hedge. The Seftons, who observed Catherine's confusion, and suspected the occasion of it, were delighted with her evident emotion, which they thought proved that Willoughby was not indifferent to her, and they considerately walked off to another part of the garden, and left the lovers to their own. meditations.

It was long since Willoughby had discovered that his happiness depended on a

At

union with Catherine; but as it is a characteristic of true passion to exalt the object of it, he scarcely dared to hope that he had made an interest in her heart. times, he flattered himself that he was not indifferent to her he had seen with transport the pleasure she seemed to take in conversing with him, and he observed with delight that her favourite line of reading seemed to be works on military affairs, and that her eyes sparkled on hearing any trait related which raised the character of the British soldier. But these bright hopes were sometimes obscured, and he would fear that even her cheerfulness betokened an untouched heart. But that, again, might be occasioned by her being ignorant that her happiness was in the keeping of another. Agitated thus by contending hopes and fears, Willoughby, afraid by precipitance to ruin his cause, refrained from declaring that devoted attachment, which he felt would make or mar the happiness of his life.