contracted until a much later period in life. Among others she took a great interest in young people. Of these she had several who came frequently to call upon her, and corresponded with her at length when not in the same neighbourhood. Chief amongst these were the Clintons; for Mrs. Clinton had visited her as soon as she had had time to ascertain that she was of respectable family. She had consequently been acquainted with Harriette and Louisa from the time they were schoolgirls. She had been kind to them, interesting herself in their accomplishments and engagements, and occasionally making them presents, and taking them with her to places of amusement; in fact, she lavished upon them some of the kindness which would have been Jane's had she lived.

In return for this the Clinton girls always spoke of her as one of their best friends, and took great care always to be charming when they were at her house. But nevertheless they found it impossible to overlook her many shortcomings. With her income, and no one but herself to spend it on, she might easily have done twice as much for them. The gifts which they received were far from giving them satisfaction. Good enough in their way, they might have been better, and of more frequent occurrence. In short, to decry Miss Bethune was with the Clintons a favourite way of passing half an hour.

Clinton was giving that night, and at which Miss Bethune was expected.

'No,' replied Harriette unconcernedly.

She had everything, and was just powdering her face in front of the glass.

'I can't think where it can be ; I had it a minute ago,' continued Louisa, pushing carelessly against her in the anxiety of her search, and causing her to put a great deal too much powder on her

nose.

It was a special pocket-handkerchief.

'I believe that Sarsnet has hidden it!' exclaimed the seeker, in a moment, with considerable heat. She was hastening round the room, spreading disorder wherever she went. 'She is far more trouble than use !'

Sarsnet was the young ladies' maid; and if ever anything was not in its place, they always affirmed that she had stolen it or hidden it to spite them.

At length the missing handkerchief was found under a pincushion, which some heedless person had placed upon it. Louisa hastened down-stairs. There was as yet but one arrival in the drawing-room. This was a young man named John Bengough, a distant connection of the Clinton family, who had lately come over from Australia, in order that he might enjoy the benefit of an English university education. He was at Trinity, Cambridge, and was spending the Long' in town.

About his invitation there had been considerable discussion; for both the young ladies assured their parents that, from what they had already seen of him, he was a young man of gauche manners, and not one of whom they could in any sense be proud. Mrs. Clinton accordingly decided that

she would not invite him; but at the last moment she received a note from a young man regretting that a bad cold would prevent his having the pleasure of dining with her that evening. So after all they were obliged to fall back on John, who accepted with plea

sure.

He was a young man about the middle height, with broad shoulders, a fresh complexion, an incipient beard most offensive to the exquisites of his college, and spectacles.

Miss Bethune being the guest whom they knew best, the Clintons had arranged that their doubtful friend should be her neighbour.

During soup-time that lady was occupied by conversation with her other neighbour, an old acquaintance with whom she had not recently exchanged ideas.

After a slight skirmish with a young lady on his left, Bengough sat waiting an opportunity to speak to her. At length there was a pause in her dialogue with her old friend.

'Have you seen Irving in Hamlet?' asked the Australian hastily, lest the opportunity should escape. Hester turned to him.

'Yes,' she replied, smiling pleasantly; and I suppose you have too? Tell me what you think of him; as a lady I reserve my opinion till I have heard yours.'

'Well,' replied Bengough frankly, 'I don't like him at all; and yet I have heard that he is the only conscientious actor on the stage. I object extremely to his pronunciation.'

'There I am inclined to agree with you,' answered Hester; 'still, I think you are rather hard on him. His Hamlet is intelligent, though very likely not quite the one you and I would wish to see.'

This coupling of his name with hers pleased Bengough. He was aware that his coat was not quite what might have been desired, and had experienced a misgiving that his manners and discourse were not exactly those of London; and this consciousness had raised a defiant mood in him, but at these words it was softened.

Miss Bethune and Mr. Bengough now found plenty to say to each other. The lady had a knack of interesting people in the conversation which they held with her. It consisted in asking them about themselves. It is a subject upon which all have something to say-many a good deal, and that extremely agreeable to their own ears.

In reply to her artfully couched inquiries, John Bengough readily gave her much information concerning his history and prospects. He had had rather a rough life hitherto, as appeared; had lived in one of the less civilised parts of Australia, and had had experience of manual labour. During this time, however, he had managed to keep up a connection between himself and the classics; and he had now come to England, on the death of his parents, in the hope of obtaining a fellowship at Cambridge. He was already, as he eagerly informed his listener, a scholar of his college.

Hester heard all this with interest. She appreciated the naïveté with which her neighbour impressed upon her some details of his history, careful lest she should overlook any item redounding to his credit.

And now you are spending the vacation in town to see something of London life?'

'Well, I do not expect to see very much of that,' said Bengough; for beyond the Clintons

I know no one. The fact is, I intended to have spent the time in "doing" England; but unfortunately I found my finances wouldn't stand it,' he added, smiling.

Miss Bethune sympathised with him. There was no trusting to financial appearances, as she well knew. But as for making acquaintances in London, that was an easy business, particularly for a young man. She ended by proposing that, if he had nothing better to do, he should come and see her some day. She was at home on Thursdays. Bengough was delighted. He accepted, his face radiant with pleasure.

When the gentlemen joined the ladies he came straight to Miss Bethune, and remained with her the rest of the evening. When she played he turned the leaves for her, a thing which his anxiety to be exactly at the right moment caused him to do with very little adroitness.

Afterwards they had more conversation; Miss Bethune introducing him to a young lady who was a friend of hers, and who was seated near, and the three chatted very agreeably. When it was time to go the Clinton girls took an effusive farewell of Hester, less, indeed, on account of any particular feelings which the occasion excited than because there were those present whom they wished to show how well their effusive farewells became them.

Bengough walked home in the highest spirits, delighted with Miss Bethune and with himself, and full of visions of successes in society.

III.

'WELL, I think everything went off very well last night,' said Mrs.

Clinton to her daughters the next morning at breakfast. There was considerable satisfaction in her voice.

It was Sunday, the dinnerparty having been given on a Saturday in order that a member of Parliament, whose acquaintance was felt to be creditable, might be present.

On the whole, yes,' replied Louisa, after a moment's meditation; the eating was delicious. I still regret extremely that I did not take twice of those sweetbreads.'

'Don't say they were good,' exclaimed her sister, 'for I did not taste them. I had fully intended to when writing the menu; but that hired waiter handed everything with such indecent haste, that, in the excitement of talking, I let them pass.'

'John Bengough was the blot on the evening; why can't he get boots with pointed toes?'

'His talk was I can't tell you how trite, too,' said Harriette. 'I overheard him speaking of Irving in Hamlet, comparing the Academy and Grosvenor Gallery, and other such painful solecisms. It quite made me blush.'

'Miss Bethune seemed to find plenty to say to him.'

'O, it is a forlorn hope, I suppose; old maids are always like that; they cannot afford to be disagreeable to any one.'

And breakfast being late, the young ladies hastened up-stairs to get their hats and fichus for church; prayer-books they did not require, being of those who know the service by heart.

That very day John Bengough called on Miss Bethune. She was in her room when he arrived, and he had to wait a few minutes in the drawing-room. He examined the room with great admiration. Bengough had never been accus

tomed to think of these things before; but he now began to experience a vague pleasure from the harmonious colouring of the cretonne, the old china and wallpaper, and the subdued fragrance of some genista. When Hester entered the room she seemed entirely in keeping with all this delicate refinement. Her gently modulated voice and her soft drab draperies belonged to the same category of things.

Bengough had just come from. making his duty-call on the Clintons. It being an early hour, he had found them all unprepared for visitors. The whole family had been digesting their early dinner in easy postures in the drawing-room, and there had been a general scrimmage when he was announced, for all the crochet antimacassars were either rucked up in wisps or else on the floor, and Louisa had taken off her shoes. When it had been discovered that the disturber was only their relation, the shock to their digestions had reacted on their tempers, which had remained during the rest of the interview in the condition associated with packing up in haste or riding in a close carriage with one's back to the horses.

During his conversation with Miss Bethune John involuntarily contrasted these two visits.

'How pretty your room is!' said he almost immediately.

'Do you like it?' answered she with modesty; 'well, that is a compliment of a peculiarly gratifying nature to me.'

'I think it is the prettiest room I ever was in,' exclaimed John enthusiastically.

'You know one of the things I plume myself on is a knack of picking up pretty things at reasonable prices. I must show you a bargain I made the other day,

and which is still filling me with self-satisfaction.'

The bargain was a piece of Venetian glass. They went across the room to examine it, and Hester entered upon a humorous description of the manner by which it had come into her hands. As she began at her first sight of it in the back shop of a brocanteur in the neighbourhood of Leicester-square, and narrated circumstantially the various steps which had led to her at last securing it, the description occupied a few minutes. Bengough's attention had time to wander, for his interest in the Venetian glass was not quite such as its exquisite workmanship might have warranted. Miss Bethune had a lively sensibility, and quickly suspected this. Nevertheless, she was surprised when on raising her gaze she beheld her visitor's eyes, which were not generally of a particularly speaking order, fixed upon herself with an undeniable expression of the frankest admiration.

She was disconcerted, and turned aside, finishing her story in a few words.

Mr. Bengough's visit was a long one, but Miss Bethune did not find it fatiguing, for she was one of those who would as soon listen to a man's experiences and hopes, as to his rendering of the recent scandal, or quotations from the art-criticisms in the newspapers.

At last Bengough took his departure. Miss Bethune had mentioned an intention of attending evening service at St. James's, and it struck her visitor with astonishment as he was walking home that he had not yet heard Mr. Haweis preach. It was an intention he had so long cherished. He dined hastily, and started in the direction of Paddington. But Hester was a devout listener in church, and when she chanced on

one occasion to raise her eyes to the gallery she did not remark that a gaze which had long been levelled in her direction was withdrawn with the speed of an unquiet conscience, a sight which might have suggested certain reflections to her mind.

IV.

'THERE is John Bengough coming here, at last,' said Louisa Clinton, who was looking from behind the Venetian-blind, one warm afternoon.

'It is more than a month since he has called,' returned Harriette. 'I call it very ungrateful, after all we have done for him.'

'Well, I am sure we do not want him,' said Louisa; 'only he must have found it very dull without us, for to my certain knowledge he hasn't a friend in the world.'

'O, you're mistaken,' cried Harriette; I have seen him several times going in and out of Miss Bethune's. I wish Miss Bethune would mind her own business; she is a deal too fond of interfering with other people. I believe it is there that he's going now-yes, he has passed the house.' 'What can she see in him?' 'Or he in her?

'I wonder what they find to talk about,' continued Harriette, smiling. I should like to see

them together.'

It was true that Bengough had called on Miss Bethune with unconventional frequency during the past month. The charm which he had at first experienced in her society had deepened on further acquaintance. His existence at Cambridge had been rather a dreary one; for, though his disposition was sociable, life there was

too new to him to admit of his readily making friends. He had come unusually near to the realisation of that ideal of hard work and frugal living which so many undergraduates entertain; and for the time he had looked stoically on all those supplementary rays of light and warmth which render life more human. His intercourse with the Clintons had strengthened him in this frame of mind; but his introduction to Miss Bethune had added a new light to his views of things. He began to see that he had despised that with which he was not really acquainted. He had judged of the elegances and refinements of life, not from the things themselves, but from his own hasty conclusion as to what they must be. Here was a revelation to him; and one in comparison with which his old ideal sank into coarseness and insufficiency. But it was characteristic of Bengough that the delight he took in the new views to which he had been converted entirely outweighed any jealousy, which it might have been natural for one who had adhered so devoutly to his tenets. tenets to experience on seeing them supplanted. Small changes are liable to be looked upon as eras when one is twenty-three and new to culture and society, and the young Australian now looked back to the period, previous to his acquaintance with Miss Bethune, with the same astonishment as a critic of the present day might be moved to by the bygone supremacy of the Edinburgh Review.

Hitherto, John Bengough had seen little of womankind, and he had thought little thereon. With the passion of love, it is true, he was, to a degree, conversant, for he had read, by way of culture rather than for enjoyment, some of the standard novels in the English