have done honour to a far higher station. He was, in a word, one of nature's gentlemen; and in nothing did he more thoroughly show his own taste and good breeding, than by entering entirely into the homely ways and oldfashioned habits of his country-cousins. He was delighted with the simplicity, frugality, and industry which blended well with the sterling goodness and genuine abundance of the great English farm-house. The young women especially pleased him much. They formed a strong contrast with anything he had met with before. No finery! no coquetry! no French! no piano! It is impossible to describe the sensation of relief and comfort with which Charles Foster, sick of musical misses, ascertained that the whole dwelling did not contain a single instrument, except the bassoon, on which George Evans was wont, every Sunday at church, to excruciate the ears of the whole congregation. He liked both sisters. Jane's softness and considerateness engaged his full esteem; but Fanny's innocent playfulness suited best with his own high spirits and animated conversation. He had known them apart from the first; and indeed denied that the likeness was at all puzzling, or more than is usual between sisters, and secretly thought Fanny as much prettier than her sister, as she was avowedly merrier. In doors and out, he was constantly at her side; and before he had been a month in the house, all its inmates had given Charles Foster as a lover to his young cousin; and she, when rallied on the subject, cried fie! and pish! and pshaw! and wondered how people could talk such nonsense, and liked to have such nonsense talked to her, better than any thing in the world. Affairs were in this state, when one night Jane appeared even graver and more thoughtful than usual; and far, far, sadder. She sighed deeply; and Fanny, for the two sisters shared the same little room, inquired tenderly, "What ailed her?" The inquiry seemed to make Jane worse. She burst into tears, whilst Fanny hung over her, and soothed her. At length she roused herself by a strong effort; and turning away from her affectionate comforter, said in a low tone, "I have had a great vexation to-night, Fanny; Charles Foster has asked me to marry him." "Charles Foster! Did you say Charles Foster?" asked poor Fanny, trembling, unwilling even to trust her own senses against the evidence of her heart; "Charles Foster?" "Yes, our cousin, Charles Foster." "And you have accepted him?" inquired Fanny. 66 Oh no! no! Do you think I have forgotten poor Archibald? Besides, I am not the person whom he ought to have asked to marry him: false and heartless as he is. I would not be his wife; cruel, unfeeling, and unmanly as his conduct has been! No! not if he could make me queen of England? "No; my father met us suddenly, just as I was recovering from the surprise and indignation that at first struck me dumb. But I shall refuse him most certainly:-the false, deceitful, ungrateful villain!" 66 My dear father! He will be disappointed. So will my mother." 66 They will be both disappointed, and both angry-but not at my refusal. Oh, how they will despise him," added Jane; and poor Fanny, melted by her sister's sympathy, and touched by an indignation most unusual in that mild and gentle girl, could no longer command her feelings, but flung herself on the bed in that agony of passion and grief, which the first great sorrow seldom fails to excite in a young heart. After a while she resumed the conversation. "We must not blame him too severely, Jane. Perhaps my vanity made me think his attentions meant more than they really did, and you had all taken up the notion. But you must not speak of him so unkindly; he has done nothing but what is natural. You are so much wiser and better than I am, my own dear Jane! He laughed and talked with me: but he felt your goodness,—and he was right. I was never worthy of him, and you are; and if it were not for Archibald, I should rejoice from the bottom of my heart," continued Fanny, sobbing, "if you would accept but unable to finish her generous wish, she burst into a fresh flow of tears; and the sisters, mutually and strongly affected, wept in each other's arms, and were comforted. That night Fanny cried herself to sleep; but such sleep is not of long duration. Before dawn she was up, and pacing, with restless irritability, the dewy grass-walks of the garden and orchard. In less than half an hour, a light elastic step (she knew the sound well!) came rapidly behind her; a hand, (oh, how often had she thrilled at the touch of that hand!) tried to draw her's under his own; whilst a well-known voice addressed her in the softest and tenderest accents: " Fanny, my own sweet Fanny! have you thought of what I said to you last night?" "To me?" replied Fanny with bitterness. 66 Aye, to be sure, to your own dear self! Do you not remember the question I asked you, when your good father, for the first time unwelcome, joined us so suddenly that you had no time to say, Yes? and will you not say Yes now?" "Mr Foster!" replied Fanny, with some spirit, you are under a mistake here. It was to Jane that you made a proposal yesterday evening; and you are taking me for her at this moment." "Mistake you for your sister! Propose to Jane! Incredible! Impossible! You are jesting." "Then he mistook Jane for me last night; and he is no deceiver!" thought Fanny to herself, as with smiles beaming brightly through her tears, she turned round at his reiterated prayers, and yielded the hand he sought to his pressure. "He mistook her for me? He that defied us to perplex him!" And so it was; an unconscious and unobserved change of place, as either sister rcsumed her station behind little Betsy, who had scampered away after a glow-worm, added to the deepening twilight, and the lover's natural embarrassment, had produced the confusion which gave poor Fanny a night's misery, to be compensated by a lifetime of happiness. Jane was almost as glad to lose a lover as her sister was to regain one: Charles is gone home to his father's to make preparations for his bride; Archibald has taken a great nursery garden, and there is some talk in Aberleigh that the marriage of the two sisters is to be celebrated on the same day. MY HEART LEAPS. MISS MITFORD. My heart leaps up when I behold So was it when my life began; So is it now I am a Man; So be it when I shall grow old, The Child is Father of the Man; M |