She then was about to dismiss me, when I recollected with dismay, that perhaps I should be obliged to associate with a posse of menservants; I therefore hesitated, not having courage, as I had been formerly advised, to make a bargain that I should not.

The duchess, however, perceived my hesitation, and questioned me respecting it.

I therefore ventured to say, that it would not be in my power to accept any situation where I should be obliged to take my repasts with the

men-servants.

Her grace smiled, saying, "Oh! you may have a table to yourself if you like; but you need not be afraid, Mittonet is the only person who would dream of sharing it with you."

Saying this, she dismissed me and drove off, while I returned to communicate my good fortune to my friends.

I now learnt from Mrs. Pratt, what I before suspected from the manner and conversation of the Duchess of Beaulieu, that she was a Frenchwoman.

It appeared that when extremely young she

was a dancer on the French stage, from which she was taken by the old Count de Longueville, who married her, and leaving her a blooming widow, she attracted the notice of the Duke of Beaulieu.

Being a finished coquette, she managed so well, that before her year of widowhood was expired, she had been led a second time to the hymeneal altar by the infatuated duke.

He had himself been married before, and had one son by his first wife, who was just ten years of age when his grace married the French countess. The latter had also presented the duke with a son, who was now in his eleventh year.

Both Mrs. Davies and Mrs. Pratt expatiated on the splendour of the duke's establishment, and assured me that it was one of the first in the kingdom.

The following day Mrs. Davies returned to town, and I hastened to make my arrangements for my departure the following week. While thus occupied, the servant, who at tended upon Mrs. Pratt and me, came to say

that Mr. Willoughby begged to speak a few words to me in the drawing-room.

I had not seen him alone since the sad event which had deprived him of his dearest relative and me of a kind mistress.

I therefore dreaded this interview on every account. However, I could not refuse to go, and with trembling steps entered the drawing

room.

Mr. Willoughby was pacing up and down, and appeared in great agitation.

Upon my appearing he closed the door, which I had left open, and approaching me said,

"I did not mean SO soon after my dear aunt's death, to touch upon a subject which you must be well aware is never absent from my thoughts; but having heard from Mrs. Pratt that you have consented to accept a situation with the Duchess of Beaulieu, and mean to leave this house in less than a week, I can keep silence no longer. My feelings towards you, Theresa, are unchanged-I love you with a fondness I cannot express, and that you may

not misunderstand me, I clearly and distinctly offer you once more my hand and heart. I implore you to give me yours in return, and in one year from the death of her who was more to me than a mother, I entreat, I conjure you to become my wife."

His generosity and affection quite overcame me, and I burst into tears, but I felt it impossible to answer his eager entreaties to return his love.

On the contrary, I endeavoured to persuade him to turn his thoughts to some worthier object, but in vain.

Our conversation became more and more painful, as I became more and more determined.

I have often wondered since at my unaccountable pertinacity.

At last Mr. Willoughby became convinced of my utter indifference, and he exclaimed,

"Cruel Theresa, you must love another, or your heart is marble. I must indeed be hateful to you, when you can prefer being subject to the caprice of a fanciful woman, to being the wife of a man who adores you."

It was in vain I spoke of esteem, respect, and the deepest gratitude.

"Speak not of such cold feelings, they are no cure for such love as mine," said he. “I will persecute you no more, Theresa, and I pray God you may never feel the anguish I do now; but if ever you want a friend, remember me. Once more God bless you, dear, dear Theresa."

Saying this, he rushed out of the room, leaving me completely overwhelmed and bewildered.

I never saw him more, for he left the house that evening for London, and soon after started for the continent.

Dear, generous Mr. Willoughby, you were amply avenged for my indifference to you!

I was extremely unhappy for some days after his departure, in consequence of knowing how much misery I had caused him, and I had a great horror of appearing ungrateful in his eyes. I could not however have acted otherwise than I had done, unless I had played the