Miss Ferret's design that the Baronet should win; and in order to explain the rationale of her plan, it may not be amiss to give a brief sketch in this place of this worthy's character.

Sir Roger was descended from an ancient house, and inherited a fine place, but small fortune, which occasioned a perpetual strife between family pride and poverty. He had been at school what is called a plover-pated boy, and in fact arrived at manhood's prime with as light a burthen of learning as any dunce need ever desire to carry. The sports of the field, however, gave him ample occupation, and he married the daughter of a wealthy trader, whose well lined coffers would have supplied the deficiency of his patrimonial inheritance, if an ill timed bankruptcy had not frustrated his hopes. This was a severe stroke; it was however irremediable, and while health and strength continued, matters went on tolerably well. Sir Roger became the most skilful farmer in the whole country, and Lady Goodman, who was a virtuous and prudent woman, managed her department with cleverness and economy.

But as time revolved, reverses occurred; two or three infant children dropped off—Colbrook was left without an heir—and a chronic rheumatism succeeded, which called for more temper, resignation, and resource of mind than poor Sir Roger possessed to meet the demand. His decline of life, therefore, exhibited the sorry picture of a nervous, growling old man, who revenged every cloud in the sky which produced a sharper twinge, on every body who came in his way. His temper was graduated like the barometer, and rose or fell with the elasticity of the atmosphere.

Amongst the most exasperating trials of his life was loss at cards; and yet to abstain from playing was a still greater cross to one so entirely dependent, as was Sir Roger, on external excitement. He delighted in the company of Miss Ferret, who acted like sal volatile on his spirits, and Lady Goodman was so glad to have her at Colbrook, that it might always have been the residence of this useful personage, if her pride had not revolted at the idea of being called "a companion."

Such then was the outline of domestic affairs in the family of Goodman, and Miss Ferret knew what she was about, when she resolved that Sir Roger should find his purse much heavier at the end than beginning of the evening. But how did Mr. Hartland feel respecting these arrangements of which he appeared to be the victim? He was amply compensated by the partnership in which his losses were sustained; and which furnished occasion for several allusions, artfully improved by Miss Ferret, to fate—fortune—identity of interests—and sympathy in adversity, which never advancing in direct allusion beyond the literal precincts of the game in hand, suggested, notwithstanding, pleasing thoughts of an undefined nature which were as new to Mr. Hartland as if he had just entered his seventeenth year, and experienced for the first time, the stimulus and delight which is felt by a boy when taken notice of in female society.

So happy was the progress of affairs, that when the cards were shuffled in the last deal by Miss Robinson, and she summed up in a total the various items of apology which had preceded, by saying, "Well, Mr. Hartland, my bad play has been visited severely on you; your temper has indeed been tried in the furnace, and you have reason to remember the evil star which condemned you to such a destiny this evening:" her partner was observed to colour, while he replied, with more animation than could have been anticipated in one who had lost every rubber, "Miss Robinson, it is more agreeable to fail in some company than succeed elsewhere. I can remember nothing but the pleasures of this day."

"Why, my dear creature," said Miss Ferret, as she addressed Miss Robinson, "you have been horribly unlucky. I protest you have nothing for it left but selling out of the funds to pay off your debts, and though all you Change-alley people have been turned to coiners by the late rise of stock, it will not do to lift one's capital."

The table broke up; Mr. Gresham rubbed his hands self complacently, and moving briskly towards a window, said, "Somebody mentioned a star just now, which reminds me to look for some friendly ray to guide me home."

Mr. Hartland, who was equally interested in the light of the firmament, followed slowly, and was the first to exclaim, "How dark it is!"

"It is indeed," answered Miss Ferret. "Look out, Sir Roger, it is black as soot. I think you will have to answer to Mrs. Gresham for her husband's life if you let him go home to-night."

Sir Roger was in the highest state of good humour, and seizing directly on the hospitable hint, declared that neither of his guests should "stir a foot." Lady Goodman, ever ready to second a kind feeling, praised the merits of a well-aired bed to each of the gentlemen. Miss Ferret knew that Mr. Gresham would refuse to stay, which he did, alleging that Mrs. Gresham would be uneasy were he not to return, and she wished, as well as thought, that Mr. Hartland would remain if invited; in which speculation, accordingly, she was also right, and seeing him hesitate, she ran towards the bell, saying, "I assure you it would be folly to attempt riding home; there is no necessity at least for Mr. Hartland to break his neck."

"No," said Sir Roger, laughing heartily; "though Hartland lives at Henbury, there is no henpecker there yet."

This sally was met by Miss Ferret with "Excellent, upon my honour! Lady Goodman, is'nt that the best thing you ever heard? Well," added our voluble go-between, "I thought that this would be the end of it, when you gentlemen wedged yourselves into that far window before dinner, and prosed about new moons, full moons, and harvest moons, till you wearied the moon to sleep, and now you are left without any lamp in the sky."

To be brief, Mr. Hartland was easily prevailed upon. Mr. Gresham took his departure, and the circle at Colbrook, after partaking of a comfortable old fashioned supper, retired to their apartments. If all secrets must be discovered when we set about telling a story, we must reveal the fact that two of the party passed a restless night. How it happened may be thus accounted for.

Whatever may be thought, and however unnatural it may seem, that a man of forty-two should be visited by those agitations which the young imagine to belong exclusively to their fresh sensibilities, and the hacknied do not believe in at all, it will not appear incredible to those who are accustomed to look into the human heart with a philosophic eye, if we assert that Mr. Hartland's spirits were thrown into considerable flutter by the events of the past day.

Since his accession to an unexpected fortune he had heard many hints thrown out, both at home and abroad, upon the propriety of his "settling in life;" and any thing often repeated will produce impression. How much more then a matter of such importance as matrimony! His old nurse used now to shake her head and say, "Ah! Sir, since my poor Missess is gone you looks quite lonesome." The tenants who came to visit their new landlord, as they drank his health, always tacked a good wife as the climax of their wishes for his prosperity; and he was assailed by all the old women of the parish, gentle and simple, with some allusion to his single state. The words old bachelor began to fret and gall him in a manner entirely unwonted. It was no wonder then, perhaps, that with a mind thus pre-disposed, the machinations of Miss Ferrett found the soil prepared and ready to aid their purpose. Several circumstances of the evening rose in a sort of pleasing phantasmagoria on Mr. Hartland's recollection. He thought Miss Robinson very agreeable and genteel, neither too young nor too old, lively without being all on wires, like Miss Ferrett, quiet without being dull like some of the young ladies whom he had seen in the neighbourhood. As he continued to commune with his pillow, several obliging