off for town a few days after Selina's arrival. Nor did Sir Robert and Lady Hammersley protract their stay much longer. Early in January they returned to Bath, and their places at Eltondale were almost immediately filled by other visitors; for Lady Eltondale could never bear to be alone; and though on account of her brother's recent death she forbore giving any very public entertainments, or receiving the most dissipated of her acquaintances, yet a constant succession of parties filled up to her, in some degree, the charm of a winter's seclusion; and the gay and fashionable manners of several of her guests served to introduce Selina to those frivolous amusements, which are generally the outposts to more reprehensible pursuits.

Selina's deep mourning had at first served as an excuse for her declining to partake of the gayer engagements the neighbourhood of Eltondale occasionally afforded. For, notwithstanding the avidity with which she entered into the pleasures by which she was surrounded, she was still sufficiently unlearned in the ways of the world to believe, that, at least where the memory of a parent was concerned, it was not altogether decorous

and having at first received Mrs. Galton's approbation of her forbearance, she resisted in that one instance all Lady Eltondale's arguments and entreaties.—Happy would it have been for her, if she could always have resorted to the counsel of such a friend as Mrs. Galton. Lady Eltondale felt mortified by the unexpected resistance to her wishes, in a point she deemed so trifling; but, however, she compromised the matter with Selina, by prevailing upon her to change her sable dress at the end of three months, and to give up her mourning entirely at the end of six, which term would arrive before their going to London. She at the same time secretly resolved to interrupt, as much as possible, Selina's correspondence with Mrs. Galton, foreseeing it might, in other instances, equally frustrate her intentions and designs:—not that she could exactly define, even to herself, why she was so solicitous not only to supplant Mrs. Galton in Miss Seymour's affection, but also to change even the very character of her niece. She looked upon the engagement between her and Mr. Elton almost as irrevocable; and it was indeed a matter of comparative indifference to her, what was the true character of the woman she was so anxious to make his wife. But the real motive of the Viscountess' conduct, of which she herself was scarcely conscious, was a jealousy of Mrs. Galton's influence over Selina's mind, and an envious hatred produced by the consciousness of her own inferiority to her rival in her niece's affection; and she was perfectly aware that she could by no means so essentially mortify the woman she hated, or lessen the influence she so much dreaded, as by undermining the principles and changing the character Mrs. Galton had taken so much pains and pride in forming.

One morning Lady Eltondale entered the breakfast-room before Selina had returned from her usual early ramble; and as she carelessly tossed over the letters, which were left on the table to be claimed by their owners, her eye rested on one directed to Miss Seymour, in a hand-writing with which she was unacquainted. She had understood from Selina, that she had no correspondent but Mrs. Galton; and her curiosity was not a little roused by perceiving the seal bore the impression of the well-known Mordaunt arms. While she still held the letter in her hand, Selina entered the room;—the Viscountess feeling a momentary embarrassment in being detected so closely examining a letter directed to another, hastily concealed it, resolving to replace it next day. But in error, ce n'est que le premier pas qui coûte. No person that voluntarily treads on the threshold of vice, can be certain that they will always have it in their power to retrace their steps. Lady Eltondale would probably have shuddered at the idea of deliberately intercepting a letter, and still more of clandestinely perusing it; yet having thus unpremeditatedly possessed herself of the one in question, she could not resist the further temptation of satisfying herself as to the nature of its contents, and accordingly opened it as soon as she found herself alone. It proved to be, as she suspected, a letter from Augustus. In truth, the expression of Selina's countenance, the last evening they had spent together, had never faded from his "mind's eye." With all the tenacity of a lover's memory, he called to remembrance every look, every word that seemed to flatter his fond wishes; and then, with all the subtlety of a lover's rhetoric, he persuaded himself that no duty he owed to the memory of Sir Henry forbad his endeavouring at least to retain whatever share of Selina's good opinion he already possessed; though he was still determined so far to respect the expressed wish of the Baronet, as not to precipitate a declaration of his own attachment, till Selina had an opportunity of fully understanding her own heart, and making her selection between him and Mr. Elton. Thus compromising between his passion and his principles, he addressed Selina in the character of trustee to her estate, and profiting by the excuse which that situation afforded him, conjured Selina to point out in what way he could be of most use; expressing his anxiety to be of service to her, in the warmest terms that passion under the mask of friendship could suggest.

Had this letter then reached Selina, it would have spared her many hours of future sorrow. But Lady Eltondale determined it should not do so. Her penetration too soon discovered its real import;—she perceived

and, with her usual sophistry, persuading herself that the end sanctified the means, she congratulated herself on the steps she had taken, and believed her laudable anxiety for the welfare of her step-son justified her treacherous conduct to her orphan niece. She was not long in deciding on the best measures to prevent a continuation of a correspondence so dangerous to her favourite scheme; and enclosing the letter back to Mordaunt, wrote the following note in the envelope:

"Lady Eltondale presents her compliments to Mr. Mordaunt, and her best thanks for his polite offers of service, which, however, she begs to decline as Mr. Elton is expected to return to England immediately, who will of course superintend himself the management of all Miss Seymour's estates. Lady Eltondale returns Mr. Mordaunt's letter, as perhaps he may, at a future time, wish to refer to it on the subject of Wilson's farm, upon which Miss Seymour, in her present delicate situation, feels no wish either to correspond or decide."

It would be impossible to describe the mortification and disappointment this laconic epistle occasioned Augustus. He felt justly indignant at the manner in which his proffered kindness had been rejected; and considered the insult in no slight degree aggravated by the circumstance of Selina permitting a third person to convey her own unfeeling reply. In one moment the bright vision of hope and joy, that had flitted before him, dissolved in air; and, from the delighted contemplation of all her charms, he sunk in an instant into the opposite extreme, and equally exaggerated all her failings. He recalled to mind Mr. Temple's observations, which now seemed absolutely prophetic; and, passing rapidly from one passion to another, upbraided her not only with the foibles she really possessed, but even with those errors that were as yet but anticipated. By degrees, however, the storm subsided. He so often repeated to himself that she was now perfectly indifferent to him, that he flattered himself it was really