"But you 'll be able to give the Duke a wee picture now, I hope.”

“I've made a little drawing of you and Rover," Charles informed him, en riant.

"Humph!" said Morgan, "Madame de Norman draws nicely, and works well too. I wish she had a daughter disengaged."

“There are many women who work well, my dear father, from the time of Helen, who is represented as working at a tapestry whereon she figured the numerous combats of which she herself was the cause."

"That's clever," Morgan remarked, "but I should like you to have some accomplished girl, the fac-simile of Ellen, or even of Fanny ; the arts soften and incline the mind to be free from all strife."

66

Why, I do not know that," Charles answered; "ambition will stimulate at the loom and pencil. You know that Nero prided himself in being an artist, and a colossal picture was painted at Rome of one hundred and

twenty feet by his command, which was afterwards destroyed by lightning. But what I mean to say is, do not reckon on my abilities or disposition from my genius, if you fancy I possess a spark. Oh no! the spur within is to satisfy and please you; so you must not spoil me, or I shall be a second Ned Mervin."

"Ned Mervin, indeed!" Morgan repeated, as he viewed his son's open tranquil countenance, and thought mentally he had best, perhaps, let Charles select a wife for himself, and not talk more of his pursuits and talents than accorded with the retiring modesty of his

nature.

CHAPTER XXIV.

"Full often has my heart swollen with keeping my sighs imprisoned; full often have the tears I have driven from mine eyes, turned back to my heart."

FROM the date of the last chapter, when the period was finally settled for Lord Darmaya's journey with Ellen to his castle, Lady Belnovine had been unusually pleasing and gracious to her daughter. She reminded her that she now stood with him as an acknowledged grandchild, and that she expected par conséquence that Ellen would demonstrate her gratitude by assiduous attention, and, in short, render her own presence more desired as mere society, than absolutely indispensable, as it had been heretofore.

"You will," she continued, "most probably not encumber yourself with an odious marito !—for some years you'll be difficult; and, free as you are now to select, no one can blame you."

R

St. Germain overheard this conversation, and gave a triumphant glance in the mirror at himself: for, by that time to-morrow, both his and Ellen's fate would be on the high road towards the Temple of Hymen, and, difficult as she was, he thought she ought to be content that he had selected for her.

Casting aside a novel which he would have appeared to be reading, he said he hoped that Lord Darmaya would not be late, but rise up with the lark; for that, as they were to commence a two days' journey, it would be too tedious if they delayed till noon.

"Ah, true! I hate the family coach," Lady Belnovine agreed, as she carelessly turned over the leaves of the discarded book.

"By the

way, St. Germain, do you approve Fielding's

writings above all others? for this is the second of his novels I've observed you pondering

over."

"I think he knew human character, and was quite a pendant for Hogarth's pencil."

"But here's Sterne's Sentimental Journeywhat extremes! Are you studying that against you join your companions to-morrow? How entertaining your first epistle will be! I promise to read it entirely, however busy, chez nous. And so you really patronize Sterne ?" she concluded.

"I am not in the least an admirer of Sterne," St. Germain answered; "that is the refuse of Belnovine's solitary meditations, with Don Quixote to relieve him by the side. I do not value mannerism in anything, or anybody. Graceful flourishes may suit the pen and pencil of Vahl and Lorevaine, as their habits and years have been freely their own, and devoted to their pleasures and their poetry; but, to a fighter of his country's battles, even the Quixote of Cer