himself, that he might wander alone on the beach, with the chance before him of meeting his fair friends. But this was impossible. He knew that his mother would not hear of his absenting himself from her side.

Upon entering the ball-room, the countess, after presenting her son to the fair daughter of some patrician, settled herself for the evening at the card-table.

Languidly did the young viscount perform his part, with a very conceited partner. Another succeeded, whom he liked as little. In handing her to a seat after the dance was over, he was on the point of joining his mother, to avoid dancing any more, when advancing up the room, (with the steward of the ball,) who should meet his eyes but his delightful friends, Mrs. and Miss Cookson.

He advanced eagerly to meet them, and leading out the young Frederica, joined the gay throng, with very different feelings from those which had only a few moments before oppressed him.

The empressement of his manner on his

greeting the two lovely strangers, did not pass unnoticed by the ladies with whom he had first danced, or by their penetrating mothers.

They took an early opportunity, after ascertaining that the two beautiful strangers were nobodies, to repair to the card-room, when they carelessly asked the Countess of Brokenhurst the names of the two ladies with whom her son seemed so intimate.

"What ladies?" inquired the countess, rising hastily from her seat, and moving towards the ball-room just as the offending beauties were leaving it, escorted by Lord Boscobel to their carriage.

Her ladyship asked the steward who they were. All the information she could obtain was, that they were a "Mrs. and Miss Cookson."

"And who knows any thing of them? exclaimed the now agitated mother; her husband's precautions and fears rushing into her mind.

"Lord Boscobel seems to know more of them than any one else," exclaimed one kind

friend, while another whispered, loud enough for the countess to hear, that she feared they were London adventurers, who personated mother and daughter, while they were in reality sisters.

"Good heavens," cried the countess, "call Boscobel back; how is it possible he could have become acquainted with such creatures? How did they get into the room?"

In the middle of this commotion the young viscount returned, unconscious of the cause of it, and more than ever delighted with his new friends.

His mother eagerly met him with questions, which he at once truly and simply answered, while he quietly led her to the carriage.

When seated in it, she gave way to a torrent of tears, and adjured her son, as he valued the happiness of herself and his father, to give up such worthless acquaintances.

"My dear mother," said the young man, "who could have been so cruel and wicked as to have imposed upon you by such untruths? I wish you knew these ladies; you would then

soon be convinced by their conversation and manners that they are perfect gentlewomen."

"Oh! do not talk so, Boscobel, they are adventuresses, depend upon it, such as too often frequent places of public amusement, in order to entrap unwary young men of fortune like yourself. When you know more of the world, you will be convinced of the truth of what I say. For heaven's sake have nothing more to say to them."

"Indeed, my dear mother, I cannot be guilty of such rudeness," replied the young noble

man.

،،

66 Very well," said the countess,

your father will return to-morrow evening, and then you will hear his opinion on the subject of your strange friendship for these two doubtful characters."

The conversation here dropped, leaving Lord Boscobel to his own very unpleasant reflections.

The following morning, however, found him as usual on the beach, where he hoped again to meet his enchantresses, for, as he feared, the

last time, well knowing his father's firmness would soon put a stop to any affair of which he disapproved.

Mrs. Cookson discovered in a moment that something had happened to distress her young friend, and soon drew from him a confession that his mother did not approve of his forming acquaintances unknown to the earl and herself.

Mrs. Cookson was silent for some time, while Lord Boscobel, with agonised feelings, perceived tears stealing slowly down the cheeks of the lovely Frederica.

At length her mother broke silence. "The countess is right," said she. "I ought not to be displeased at her objecting to her only son and heir associating with persons so humble as ourselves. God bless you, my dear lord, perhaps we may never meet again, and it is well perhaps that we have not seen more of each other, for we might have become too attached, and then the parting would have been more bitter."

"Once more, God bless you!" saying this,