My great point was to set the question of the engagement at rest, free from the mystery which Granville had thrown about it; and this I was resolved to try through Lady Hungerford, who seemed alone to have the power to decide it.

That accomplished woman and excellent friend had come back to Berkely Square for a few days only, to prepare for a longer sojourn with the child of her love, to support and comfort whom she for a time gave up the world she was so formed to adorn.

Hearing of Lady Hungerford's arrival, I went to do her homage, as well as to satisfy, if I could, the interested curiosity I have confessed. I was admitted, and found myself ace more alone with her. She gave me warm congratulations on my advancement, and prophesied still greater things; but I was deaf to all but what I hoped for-intelligence of Mr. Hastings, Bertha, and her princely cousin. All that I could get from her respecting the latter was

"I see the papers have been, as usual, busy with what they know nothing about, and you of course, with the rest of the world, havo been busy with the papers. Prince Adolphus came over to visit his relations. That is all the world knows, whatever it says.

"And the story of his engagement, then, is a fabrication?" observed I.

I thought lady Hungerford faltered in her reply.

"There are at least no signs of a wedding," said she, "and at any rate, you and I have no business with it."

This was so peremptory, that I did not dare go on, so was silent. She then spoke of Mr. Hastings' illness.

"He is, I fear, dying," said she, "and my poor Bertha's heart is broken with the prospect. Not that her firmness abandons her; on the contrary, she thinks herself born only to support her parent in this his hour of trial. He never seeg

a tear, nor indeed any thing that might not inspire hope. But all who love her cannot but feel for her unprotected situation, if the event happens. The fortune she will have, notwithstanding the late losses, will only expose her more to danger, unless she marries her cousin."

This was the first voluntary allusion Lady Hungerford had made to such an event, since our memorable conversation, when she so pointedly told me to lay aside all my ambitious, 12*

VOL. III.

all my romantic thoughts about Bertha ; and though her situation naturally, as it were, elicited this mention of her by Lady Hungerford, the latter seemed instantly to recollect herself, and would have changed the subject, had I not said, in answer to her last remark,

"I had really hoped, for her sake, that the report of the world was true, and that by this time Prince Adolphus would have been the protector you wish for her, under a higher title than that of cousin."

Lady Hungerford seemed impressed with this. A slight flush passed over her cheek.

"This from you?" she said. "Did you really hope this? and can we really suppose you sincere in such a hope?"

"Whatever my feelings, Madam," I replied, "where Miss Hastings' happiness or interest is concerned, you may believe me sincere in any thing and every thing I express."

.. And you could really have been glad and easy, if the reports of this engagement had been well-founded?"

"Glad, I believe I could have been-easy, perhaps not; and glad only if Miss Hastings' happiness or welfare had been promoted by it; for to that, willingly, though possibly not joyfully, I could sacrifice my own."

Lady Hungerford, with modest grace, touched my hand upon this, and said,

"Upon my word I could not wish Bertha a better friend, did destiny allow it."

Still, destiny!" I exclaimed. the report of the engagement is not

"Yet your ladyship says founded."

"I did not go so far," answered she, "and I will not be entangled into difficulties by words growing out of an embarrassing situation. The very word engagement, if critically dissected, might present a thousand difficulties in examining it, and I an imprudent in the last degree to allow this conversation to proceed; so, positively, no more. Have you yet spoken in Parliament ?"

I had tact enough to see that I ought now to desist from farther discussion, and longed to be alone, to perpend what had passed. After a few general topics, therefore, I took my leave, not without pleasure from thinking that Lady Hungerford had been, if not more propitious, at least less severe and decisive than formerly upon this too interesting question;

upon which all farther communication with her was interdicted by her returning to the park the very next day.

When alone, I examined more cooly what had passed. I could not, in the first place, conceal from myself that though Lady Hungerford was almost as mysterious as ever regarding the prince, she was by no means so positive as to the expected marriage. Neither had she renewed that oracular style which bade me so positively to lay aside hope, and lie down and die. Yet,on the other hand, she had any thing but denied the engagement, by admitting that there were difficulties, and an embarrassing situation. So there generally are in all engagements, or none need be made.

The match therefore was, at least, not off. The prince might have to settle affairs. He might have been called by duty to the army. Mr. Hastings' illness might have prevented an instant fulfilment, and the ceremony was thus only deferred. All this supported the supposition.

Yet the little necessity for secrecy if the fact existed. All parties their own masters; the match every way so suitable. Why any mystery, if indeed there was any? Why the wish for a protector, and that protector at hand, if nothing opposed? Above all, why the want of explicitness-aye or no-in one who must know; an explicitness which nothing forbade, and kindness recommended?

On the other hand, a prohibition to examine the subject. The phrase, "I will not be entangled in difficulties." Why fear to be so? All this defeated the supposition. And thus I was left in the usual sea of doubt.

At this moment a diversion of interests, which pleasingly occupied my thoughts, relieved me for a time, and it must be owned it was a relief I much needed.

CHAPTER XVI.

THE OLD CASTLE OF BARDOLFE CHANGES MASTERS.-MY DREAMS ABOUT IT.I AM MORE AND MORE EMBARRASSED ABOUT PRINCE ADOLPHUS.

Thus far my fortune keeps an upward course.

SHAKSPEARE.-3 Henry VI.

THE post, for which I was now always keenly anxious, brought me a letter from Mr, Manners; not an unexpected event, as I had kept up a constant correspondence with him at his own desire, and informed him of every step of my progress, which much delighted him; for he said he felt for me. as a father would for a son; "particularly," added be, “as it was I who first advised, and pointed out the path you were to take. This time, however, it is your turn to advise, in a matter in which I want to consult you; so come to me, if you can, on your first leisure day,"

It may be supposed that I obeyed the summons, and soon found myself at the Grange.

To be there was always to be happy; for never had I forgotten those delightful, as well as profitable, philosophic conversations with this wise and excellent person, which had done me so much good. It was with joy, therefore, that I shook hands with him once more, and wandered with him again in our old haunts in his garden and the forest. He soon let me into the reason for sending for me, by producing a York paper which had been sent him, and which, at first to my surprise, advertised that the castle and estate of Bardolfe were to be sold, either by auction or private con

tract.

For Mr. Hastings' sake, I gave a deep sigh at this; but, after a little consideration, I thought it might be a prudent step to take, there being no family ties on his part to this property, and lying, as it did, so wide from Foljambe. In fact, I afterwards found that Granville, on being consulted, had reasoned in the same manner; and the fatal hurricane having occasioned the immediate necessity for a very con

siderable sum, he had advised the disposal of this property in preference to any other, for the very reasons which bad suggested themselves to me.

"Well," said Mr. Manners, when I had done pondering the subject, "you recollect, I suppose, that the proceeds of this estate, when it went out of your family, came into mine; or rather, only into another branch of yours: for you will also recollect that (though by female descent) we are Cliffords and Bardolfes as well as you."

"It is impossible to forget," cried I, "what was the main cause of the interest you are so good as to take in me, and of my consequent prosperity.'

"We will not talk of that," replied he, "but I mention it to account for a wish I have to become the purchaser of what I ought to consider a family estate; for had not my grandmother's fortune been paid in money, perhaps the place itself would be actually mine."

66 I am too happy to think so,'

" answered I.

Well, I have about the wherewithal in the funds to purchase it," observed he, "and can even make money by the exchange; and having heard your pleasure in talking of the place, I want you to describe it more accurately, and perhaps more honestly, than the auctioneer here, who talks of it as if it were Kenilworth."

At this I laughed, and told him he must lower his expectations by many degrees, and that no doubt it was its being the first great interest of my childhood that made me so fond of it.

True to his tenets, "There cannot be a better reason," said he, "were it Warwick or Berkeley itself. As the castle, however, will be thrown in for nothing, and the rent-roll is about £600 a-year, the price asked for it (£18,000) cannot hurt me; and if you can tell me that there are no real objections, I have made up my mind to become the purchaser. What think you, indeed, of my changing my name to the old possessor's? There would then be once again Bardolfe of Bardolfe."

Though this last was badinage, I was greatly pleased with the whole scheme, when, after a little musing, he said,

"A thought strikes me, which you may approve or not, as you please. You have now, for a bachelor, a large income.