acquaintance of a duke's son, accepted the bet, and to his astonishment, as well as disappointment, won. He was gratified, however, to find that the marquess was in no condition to pay him except by offering his note, which was most gladly accepted.

What was his horror to find, notwithstanding, that, when off the course, the young lord was stiffer than ever towards him, and stoutly refused all familiarity, or even acquaintance; passing him in the streets, though he knew he had his note in his pocket.

A great stroke of policy, however, remained. Having heard that the marquess had bitterly lamented his having come under such obligation to one of a doubtful degree, he resolved to take a noble revenge, which he thought would play his own game at the same time. He enclosed the note cancelled to his noble debtor, calling it a trifle in comparison with the pleasure he had in being of service to him.

The marquess was puzzled, and, from necessity, was beginning to hesitate, when he was saved by the duke, his father; who, hearing of the transaction, and quite as exclusive as his son, paid the money, and my lord marquess continued, as before, to decline all knowledge of the unfortunate Courtenay Waldegrave.

"This," said Fothergill, who gave me all these details, rubbing his hands when he related the story, "makes an excellent niche in my book of human nature."

CHAPTER XXVIII.

LORD ALBANY OFFERS TO BERTHA, AND IS REFUSED. -ITS EFFECT ON HER BROTHER.

Why do you look so startingly and rash?

SHAKSPEARE.-Othello.

THE reader, probably, will not be displeased if I leave the didactic Fothergill for a while, for something more stirring than what may be thought the dry maxims of life upon which I have been dilating.

Very soon after the conference last recorded, upon the necessity of forgetting there was such a family in existence as that of Foljambe Park, I was myself sufficiently stirred both in mind and heart, by receiving a letter from the very spot. The post-mark made me start not a little, and the hand-writing of Granville still more. To think how my fingers and whole frame trembled as I broke, or rather tore open the seal, with ten thousand guesses and self-questions on what could be the subject, or why he should write at all! They, in fact, retarded the operation, anxious as I was to perform it.

A good, honest, unrefined plodder would have opened the letter in half the time.

Well, not to afflict my reader with the same gratuitous anxiety, I have to acquaint him, that Granville told me little or nothing, but that he should soon be at Oxford. "Not worth his while," said I, throwing the letter on the table with something like spleen, "to take and give so much trouble for such a piece of intelligence:" and I own I walked about disgusted with it the whole day.

Nevertheless, for that and several days after I had no eyes or ears but for the coaches that almost hourly arrived in the town, particularly those from the north; and not a little of my spare time was given to coursing up and down the High-street, to and from All Souls, the college of this interesting Granville.

He came at last, and by my too great agitation at seeing him again, coupled with too studious an avoidance of any thing like curiosity about the place he came from, he detected how it was with me in a moment. Had it been better disguised, however, it would all have been at once laid bare, by the manner in which I received the news he very soon told me.

He had begun by probing me, being almost angry, he said, at my pretended apathy, yet affecting to think me thoroughly cured.

"You have nothing then to ask me," said he, "about those I came from?"

"Nothing."

"Nor care for any intelligence concerning them ?" "Not much."

"Very good. What if I should tell you of most important changes, both as to brother and sister ?"

"Changes!"

"Yes; no less than a treaty for a double marriage."

This overset all my equanimity.

"For God's sake, Granville," I cried, "spare me. I at least am not changed. I acknowledge my hypocrisy, and am properly punished. Sir Harry then has succeeded, and I again say I am glad; but what of Foljambe ?"

At this my friend began to sympathize with me. He changed his air and tone, and wishing I was really the philosopher I had appeared, told me a tale of wonder: that almost immediately after Sir Harry had taken his leave, Lord Albany and his sister, Lady Charlotte, had visited Foljambe Park, where, though they came but for a fortnight, they had staid the whole Autumn; the assigned cause, Lord Albany's love of field sports (there enjoyed in perfection) and Lady Charlotte's sudden friendship and admiration for Bertha.

The admiration, however, was by no means confined to her ladyship, but largely shared by my lord, whose love for sports out of doors soon contracted itself to a love of another kind within. In short, he abandoned the chase to become a most warm and assiduous suitor to Bertha. This example was followed in every point by Foljambe, whose former flirtations with Lady Charlotte had grown into sober seriousness, and Granville had left him an accepted lover. "And Lord Albany ?"

"Expected ?"

"Yes; favoured and urged on in his pursuit by Foljambe; and though not approved by her father, at least not rejected by him, or yet by Bertha herself."

"Well," said I, "God bless her! and bless them all!" and I assumed a tone of decision, which rather surprised my informant. "And yet," continued I, "for her own sake, I would rather

"What?"

"That she had chosen Sir Harry than Lord Albany."

"And I, too," observed Granville. "He was more suited to her. The marquess's love is more for her beauty; and so I believe she feels it; but the decisions of even the best of women are not always comprehensible; though a wish to be a marchioness may have influence with the best."

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Depend upon it,” said I, with a courage inspired by my genuine persuasions of her disinterestedness, "that consideration will never be an influencing cause for any decision of Bertha's. Lord Albany's are all brute merits; robust accomplishments, overbearing manners, athletic nerves, bodily energies; in short, they are all of the earth, earthy.' Bertha is truly feminine; cultivated in mind, as elegant in person; playful and arch, yet mild and dignified; full of modesty-full of sweetness; a blooming rose, a graceful myrtle! Such union is not, nor it cannot come to good:

But break, my heart, for I must hold my tongue.'”

Here I confess my firmness gave way; my bravery