THE following day was as fine as the preceding one. Soon afterbreakfast Miss Matilda, having galloped and blundered through a fewunprofitable lessons, and vengeably thumped the piano for an hour,in a terrible humour with both me and it, because her mamma wouldnot give her a holiday, had betaken herself to her favourite placesof resort, the yards, the stables, and the dog-kennels; and MissMurray was gone forth to enjoy a quiet ramble with a newfashionable novel for her companion, leaving me in the schoolroomhard at work upon a water-colour drawing which I had promised to dofor her, and which she insisted upon my finishing that day.

At my feet lay a little rough terrier. It was the property of MissMatilda; but she hated the animal, and intended to sell it,alleging that it was quite spoiled. It was really an excellent dogof its kind; but she affirmed it was fit for nothing, and had noteven the sense to know its own mistress.

The fact was she had purchased it when but a small puppy, insistingat first that no one should touch it but herself; but soon becomingtired of so helpless and troublesome a nursling, she had gladlyyielded to my entreaties to be allowed to take charge of it; and I,by carefully nursing the little creature from infancy toadolescence, of course, had obtained its affections: a reward Ishould have greatly valued, and looked upon as far outweighing allthe trouble I had had with it, had not poor Snap's gratefulfeelings exposed him to many a harsh word and many a spiteful kickand pinch from his owner, and were he not now in danger of being'put away' in consequence, or transferred to some rough, stony-hearted master. But how could I help it? I could not make the doghate me by cruel treatment, and she would not propitiate him bykindness.

However, while I thus sat, working away with my pencil, Mrs. Murraycame, half-sailing, half-bustling, into the room.

'Miss Grey,' she began, - 'dear! how can you sit at your drawingsuch a day as this?' (She thought I was doing it for my ownpleasure.) 'I WONDER you don't put on your bonnet and go out withthe young ladies.'

'I think, ma'am, Miss Murray is reading; and Miss Matilda isamusing herself with her dogs.'

'If you would try to amuse Miss Matilda yourself a little more, Ithink she would not be driven to seek amusement in thecompanionship of dogs and horses and grooms, so much as she is; andif you would be a little more cheerful and conversable with MissMurray, she would not so often go wandering in the fields with abook in her hand. However, I don't want to vex you,' added she,seeing, I suppose, that my cheeks burned and my hand trembled withsome unamiable emotion. 'Do, pray, try not to be so touchy -there's no speaking to you else. And tell me if you know whereRosalie is gone: and why she likes to be so much alone?'

'She says she likes to be alone when she has a new book to read.'

'But why can't she read it in the park or the garden? - why shouldshe go into the fields and lanes? And how is it that that Mr.Hatfield so often finds her out? She told me last week he'd walkedhis horse by her side all up Moss Lane; and now I'm sure it was heI saw, from my dressing-room window, walking so briskly past thepark-gates, and on towards the field where she so frequently goes.I wish you would go and see if she is there; and just gently remindher that it is not proper for a young lady of her rank andprospects to be wandering about by herself in that manner, exposedto the attentions of anyone that presumes to address her; like somepoor neglected girl that has no park to walk in, and no friends totake care of her: and tell her that her papa would be extremelyangry if he knew of her treating Mr. Hatfield in the familiarmanner that I fear she does; and - oh! if you - if ANY governesshad but half a mother's watchfulness - half a mother's anxiouscare, I should be saved this trouble; and you would see at once thenecessity of keeping your eye upon her, and making your companyagreeable to - Well, go - go; there's no time to be lost,' criedshe, seeing that I had put away my drawing materials, and waswaiting in the doorway for the conclusion of her address.

According to her prognostications, I found Miss Murray in herfavourite field just without the park; and, unfortunately, notalone; for the tall, stately figure of Mr. Hatfield was slowlysauntering by her side.

Here was a poser for me. It was my duty to interrupt the TETE-A-TETE: but how was it to be done? Mr. Hatfield could not to bedriven away by so insignificant person as I; and to go and placemyself on the other side of Miss Murray, and intrude my unwelcomepresence upon her without noticing her companion, was a piece ofrudeness I could not be guilty of: neither had I the courage tocry aloud from the top of the field that she was wanted elsewhere.So I took the intermediate course of walking slowly but steadilytowards them; resolving, if my approach failed to scare away thebeau, to pass by and tell Miss Murray her mamma wanted her.

She certainly looked very charming as she strolled, lingering alongunder the budding horse-chestnut trees that stretched their longarms over the park-palings; with her closed book in one hand, andin the other a graceful sprig of myrtle, which served her as a verypretty plaything; her bright ringlets escaping profusely from herlittle bonnet, and gently stirred by the breeze, her fair cheekflushed with gratified vanity, her smiling blue eyes, now slylyglancing towards her admirer, now gazing downward at her myrtlesprig. But Snap, running before me, interrupted her in the midstof some half-pert, half-playful repartee, by catching hold of herdress and vehemently tugging thereat; till Mr. Hatfield, with hiscane, administered a resounding thwack upon the animal's skull, andsent it yelping back to me with a clamorous outcry that affordedthe reverend gentleman great amusement: but seeing me so near, hethought, I suppose, he might as well be taking his departure; and,as I stooped to caress the dog, with ostentatious pity to show mydisapproval of his severity, I heard him say: 'When shall I seeyou again, Miss Murray?'

'At church, I suppose,' replied she, 'unless your business chancesto bring you here again at the precise moment when I happen to bewalking by.'

'I could always manage to have business here, if I knew preciselywhen and where to find you.'

'But if I would, I could not inform you, for I am so immethodical,I never can tell to-day what I shall do tomorrow.'

'Then give me that, meantime, to comfort me,' said he, halfjestingly and half in earnest, extending his hand for the sprig ofmyrtle.

'No, indeed, I shan't.'

'Do! PRAY do! I shall be the most miserable of men if you don't.You cannot be so cruel as to deny me a favour so easily granted andyet so highly prized!' pleaded he as ardently as if his lifedepended on it.

By this time I stood within a very few yards of them, impatientlywaiting his departure.

'There then! take it and go,' said Rosalie.

He joyfully received the gift, murmured something that made herblush and toss her head, but with a little laugh that showed herdispleasure was entirely affected; and then with a courteoussalutation withdrew.

'Did you ever see such a man, Miss Grey?' said she, turning to me;'I'm so GLAD you came! I thought I never SHOULD, get rid of him;and I was so terribly afraid of papa seeing him.'

'Has he been with you long?'

'No, not long, but he's so extremely impertinent: and he's alwayshanging about, pretending his business or his clerical dutiesrequire his attendance in these parts, and really watching for poorme, and pouncing upon me wherever he sees me.'

'Well, your mamma thinks you ought not to go beyond the park orgarden without some discreet, matronly person like me to accompanyyou, and keep off all intruders. She descried Mr. Hatfieldhurrying past the park-gates, and forthwith despatched me withinstructions to seek you up and to take care of you, and likewiseto warn - '

'Oh, mamma's so tiresome! As if I couldn't take care of myself.She bothered me before about Mr. Hatfield; and I told her she mighttrust me: I never should forget my rank and station for the mostdelightful man that ever breathed. I wish he would go down on hisknees to-morrow, and implore me to be his wife, that I might justshow her how mistaken she is in supposing that I could ever - Oh,it provokes me so! To think that I could be such a fool as to fallin LOVE! It is quite beneath the dignity of a woman to do such athing. Love! I detest the word! As applied to one of our sex, Ithink it a perfect insult. A preference I MIGHT acknowledge; butnever for one like poor Mr. Hatfield, who has not seven hundred ayear to bless himself with. I like to talk to him, because he's soclever and amusing - I wish Sir Thomas Ashby were half as nice;besides, I must have SOMEBODY to flirt with, and no one else hasthe sense to come here; and when we go out, mamma won't let meflirt with anybody but Sir Thomas - if he's there; and if he's NOTthere, I'm bound hand and foot, for fear somebody should go andmake up some exaggerated story, and put it into his head that I'mengaged, or likely to be engaged, to somebody else; or, what ismore probable, for fear his nasty old mother should see or hear ofmy ongoings, and conclude that I'm not a fit wife for her excellentson: as if the said son were not the greatest scamp inChristendom; and as if any woman of common decency were not a worldtoo good for him.'

'Is it really so, Miss Murray? and does your mamma know it, and yetwish you to marry him?'

'To be sure, she does! She knows more against him than I do, Ibelieve: she keeps it from me lest I should be discouraged; notknowing how little I care about such things. For it's no greatmatter, really: he'll be all right when he's married, as mammasays; and reformed rakes make the best husbands, EVERYBODY knows.I only wish he were not so ugly - THAT'S all I think about: butthen there's no choice here in the country; and papa WILL NOT letus go to London - '

'But I should think Mr. Hatfield would be far better.'

'And so he would, if he were lord of Ashby Park - there's not adoubt of it: but the fact is, I MUST have Ashby Park, whoevershares it with me.'

'But Mr. Hatfield thinks you like him all this time; you don'tconsider how bitterly he will be disappointed when he finds himselfmistaken.'

'NO, indeed! It will be a proper punishment for his presumption -for ever DARING to think I could like him. I should enjoy nothingso much as lifting the veil from his eyes.'

'The sooner you do it the better then.'

'No; I tell you, I like to amuse myself with him. Besides, hedoesn't really think I like him. I take good care of that: youdon't know how cleverly I manage. He may presume to think he caninduce me to like him; for which I shall punish him as hedeserves.'

'Well, mind you don't give too much reason for such presumption -that's all,' replied I.

But all my exhortations were in vain: they only made her somewhatmore solicitous to disguise her wishes and her thoughts from me.She talked no more to me about the Rector; but I could see that hermind, if not her heart, was fixed upon him still, and that she wasintent upon obtaining another interview: for though, in compliancewith her mother's request, I was now constituted the companion ofher rambles for a time, she still persisted in wandering in thefields and lanes that lay in the nearest proximity to the road;and, whether she talked to me or read the book she carried in herhand, she kept continually pausing to look round her, or gaze upthe road to see if anyone was coming; and if a horseman trotted by,I could tell by her unqualified abuse of the poor equestrian,whoever he might be, that she hated him BECAUSE he was not Mr.Hatfield.

'Surely,' thought I, 'she is not so indifferent to him as shebelieves herself to be, or would have others to believe her; andher mother's anxiety is not so wholly causeless as she affirms.'

Three days passed away, and he did not make his appearance. On theafternoon of the fourth, as we were walking beside the park-palingsin the memorable field, each furnished with a book (for I alwaystook care to provide myself with something to be doing when she didnot require me to talk), she suddenly interrupted my studies byexclaiming -

'Oh, Miss Grey! do be so kind as to go and see Mark Wood, and takehis wife half-a-crown from me - I should have given or sent it aweek ago, but quite forgot. There!' said she, throwing me herpurse, and speaking very fast - 'Never mind getting it out now, buttake the purse and give them what you like; I would go with you,but I want to finish this volume. I'll come and meet you when I'vedone it. Be quick, will you - and - oh, wait; hadn't you betterread to him a bit? Run to the house and get some sort of a goodbook. Anything will do.'

I did as I was desired; but, suspecting something from her hurriedmanner and the suddenness of the request, I just glanced backbefore I quitted the field, and there was Mr. Hatfield about toenter at the gate below. By sending me to the house for a book,she had just prevented my meeting him on the road.

'Never mind!' thought I, 'there'll be no great harm done. PoorMark will be glad of the half-crown, and perhaps of the good booktoo; and if the Rector does steal Miss Rosalie's heart, it willonly humble her pride a little; and if they do get married at last,it will only save her from a worse fate; and she will be quite agood enough partner for him, and he for her.'

Mark Wood was the consumptive labourer whom I mentioned before. Hewas now rapidly wearing away. Miss Murray, by her liberality,obtained literally the blessing of him that was ready to perish;for though the half-crown could be of very little service to him,he was glad of it for the sake of his wife and children, so soon tobe widowed and fatherless. After I had sat a few minutes, and reada little for the comfort and edification of himself and hisafflicted wife, I left them; but I had not proceeded fifty yardsbefore I encountered Mr. Weston, apparently on his way to the sameabode. He greeted me in his usual quiet, unaffected way, stoppedto inquire about the condition of the sick man and his family, andwith a sort of unconscious, brotherly disregard to ceremony tookfrom my hand the book out of which I had been reading, turned overits pages, made a few brief but very sensible remarks, and restoredit; then told me about some poor sufferer he had just beenvisiting, talked a little about Nancy Brown, made a fewobservations upon my little rough friend the terrier, that wasfrisking at his feet, and finally upon the beauty of the weather,and departed.

I have omitted to give a detail of his words, from a notion thatthey would not interest the reader as they did me, and not becauseI have forgotten them. No; I remember them well; for I thoughtthem over and over again in the course of that day and manysucceeding ones, I know not how often; and recalled everyintonation of his deep, clear voice, every flash of his quick,brown eye, and every gleam of his pleasant, but too transientsmile. Such a confession will look very absurd, I fear: but nomatter: I have written it: and they that read it will not knowthe writer.

While I was walking along, happy within, and pleased with allaround, Miss Murray came hastening to meet me; her buoyant step,flushed cheek, and radiant smiles showing that she, too, was happy,in her own way. Running up to me, she put her arm through mine,and without waiting to recover breath, began - 'Now, Miss Grey,think yourself highly honoured, for I'm come to tell you my newsbefore I've breathed a word of it to anyone else.'

'Well, what is it?'

'Oh, SUCH news! In the first place, you must know that Mr.Hatfield came upon me just after you were gone. I was in such away for fear papa or mamma should see him; but you know I couldn'tcall you back again, and so! - oh, dear! I can't tell you allabout it now, for there's Matilda, I see, in the park, and I mustgo and open my budget to her. But, however, Hatfield was mostuncommonly audacious, unspeakably complimentary, andunprecedentedly tender - tried to be so, at least - he didn'tsucceed very well in THAT, because it's not his vein. I'll tellyou all he said another time.'

'But what did YOU say - I'm more interested in that?'

'I'll tell you that, too, at some future period. I happened to bein a very good humour just then; but, though I was complaisant andgracious enough, I took care not to compromise myself in anypossible way. But, however, the conceited wretch chose tointerpret my amiability of temper his own way, and at lengthpresumed upon my indulgence so far - what do you think? - heactually made me an offer!'

'And you - '

'I proudly drew myself up, and with the greatest coolness expressedmy astonishment at such an occurrence, and hoped he had seennothing in my conduct to justify his expectations. You should haveSEEN how his countenance fell! He went perfectly white in theface. I assured him that I esteemed him and all that, but couldnot possibly accede to his proposals; and if I did, papa and mammacould never be brought to give their consent.'

'"But if they could," said he, "would yours be wanting?"

'"Certainly, Mr. Hatfield," I replied, with a cool decision whichquelled all hope at once. Oh, if you had seen how dreadfullymortified he was - how crushed to the earth by his disappointment!really, I almost pitied him myself.

'One more desperate attempt, however, he made. After a silence ofconsiderable duration, during which he struggled to be calm, and Ito be grave - for I felt a strong propensity to laugh - which wouldhave ruined all - he said, with the ghost of a smile - "But tell meplainly, Miss Murray, if I had the wealth of Sir Hugh Meltham, orthe prospects of his eldest son, would you still refuse me? Answerme truly, upon your honour."

'"Certainly," said I. "That would make no difference whatever."

'It was a great lie, but he looked so confident in his ownattractions still, that I determined not to leave him one stoneupon another. He looked me full in the face; but I kept mycountenance so well that he could not imagine I was saying anythingmore than the actual truth.

'"Then it's all over, I suppose," he said, looking as if he couldhave died on the spot with vexation and the intensity of hisdespair. But he was angry as well as disappointed. There was he,suffering so unspeakably, and there was I, the pitiless cause of itall, so utterly impenetrable to all the artillery of his looks andwords, so calmly cold and proud, he could not but feel someresentment; and with singular bitterness he began - "I certainlydid not expect this, Miss Murray. I might say something about yourpast conduct, and the hopes you have led me to foster, but Iforbear, on condition - "

'"No conditions, Mr. Hatfield!" said I, now truly indignant at hisinsolence.

'"Then let me beg it as a favour," he replied, lowering his voiceat once, and taking a humbler tone: "let me entreat that you willnot mention this affair to anyone whatever. If you will keepsilence about it, there need be no unpleasantness on either side -nothing, I mean, beyond what is quite unavoidable: for my ownfeelings I will endeavour to keep to myself, if I cannot annihilatethem - I will try to forgive, if I cannot forget the cause of mysufferings. I will not suppose, Miss Murray, that you know howdeeply you have injured me. I would not have you aware of it; butif, in addition to the injury you have already done me - pardon me,but, whether innocently or not, you HAVE done it - and if you addto it by giving publicity to this unfortunate affair, or naming itAT ALL, you will find that I too can speak, and though you scornedmy love, you will hardly scorn my - "

'He stopped, but he bit his bloodless lip, and looked so terriblyfierce that I was quite frightened. However, my pride upheld mestill, and I answered disdainfully; "I do not know what motive yousuppose I could have for naming it to anyone, Mr. Hatfield; but ifI were disposed to do so, you would not deter me by threats; and itis scarcely the part of a gentleman to attempt it."

'"Pardon me, Miss Murray," said he, "I have loved you so intensely- I do still adore you so deeply, that I would not willingly offendyou; but though I never have loved, and never CAN love any woman asI have loved you, it is equally certain that I never was so ill-treated by any. On the contrary, I have always found your sex thekindest and most tender and obliging of God's creation, till now."(Think of the conceited fellow saying that!) "And the novelty andharshness of the lesson you have taught me to-day, and thebitterness of being disappointed in the only quarter on which thehappiness of my life depended, must excuse any appearance ofasperity. If my presence is disagreeable to you, Miss Murray," hesaid (for I was looking about me to show how little I cared forhim, so he thought I was tired of him, I suppose) - "if my presenceis disagreeable to you, Miss Murray, you have only to promise methe favour I named, and I will relieve you at once. There are manyladies - some even in this parish - who would be delighted toaccept what you have so scornfully trampled under your feet. Theywould be naturally inclined to hate one whose surpassing lovelinesshas so completely estranged my heart from them and blinded me totheir attractions; and a single hint of the truth from me to one ofthese would be sufficient to raise such a talk against you as wouldseriously injure your prospects, and diminish your chance ofsuccess with any other gentleman you or your mamma might design toentangle."

'"What do your mean, sir?" said I, ready to stamp with passion.

'"I mean that this affair from beginning to end appears to me likea case of arrant flirtation, to say the least of it - such a caseas you would find it rather inconvenient to have blazoned throughthe world: especially with the additions and exaggerations of yourfemale rivals, who would be too glad to publish the matter, if Ionly gave them a handle to it. But I promise you, on the faith ofa gentleman, that no word or syllable that could tend to yourprejudice shall ever escape my lips, provided you will - "

'"Well, well, I won't mention it," said I. "You may rely upon mysilence, if that can afford you any consolation."

'"You promise it?"

'"Yes," I answered; for I wanted to get rid of him now.

'"Farewell, then!" said he, in a most doleful, heart-sick tone; andwith a look where pride vainly struggled against despair, he turnedand went away: longing, no doubt, to get home, that he might shuthimself up in his study and cry - if he doesn't burst into tearsbefore he gets there.'

'But you have broken your promise already,' said I, truly horrifiedat her perfidy.

'Oh! it's only to you; I know you won't repeat it.'

'Certainly, I shall not: but you say you are going to tell yoursister; and she will tell your brothers when they come home, andBrown immediately, if you do not tell her yourself; and Brown willblazon it, or be the means of blazoning it, throughout thecountry.'

'No, indeed, she won't. We shall not tell her at all, unless it beunder the promise of the strictest secrecy.'

'But how can you expect her to keep her promises better than hermore enlightened mistress?'

'Well, well, she shan't hear it then,' said Miss Murray, somewhatsnappishly.

'But you will tell your mamma, of course,' pursued I; 'and she willtell your papa.'

'Of course I shall tell mamma - that is the very thing that pleasesme so much. I shall now be able to convince her how mistaken shewas in her fears about me.'

'Oh, THAT'S it, is it? I was wondering what it was that delightedyou so much.'

'Yes; and another thing is, that I've humbled Mr. Hatfield socharmingly; and another - why, you must allow me some share offemale vanity: I don't pretend to be without that most essentialattribute of our sex - and if you had seen poor Hatfield's intenseeagerness in making his ardent declaration and his flatteringproposal, and his agony of mind, that no effort of pride couldconceal, on being refused, you would have allowed I had some causeto be gratified.'

'The greater his agony, I should think, the less your cause forgratification.'

'Oh, nonsense!' cried the young lady, shaking herself withvexation. 'You either can't understand me, or you won't. If I hadnot confidence in your magnanimity, I should think you envied me.But you will, perhaps, comprehend this cause of pleasure - which isas great as any - namely, that I am delighted with myself for myprudence, my self-command, my heartlessness, if you please. I wasnot a bit taken by surprise, not a bit confused, or awkward, orfoolish; I just acted and spoke as I ought to have done, and wascompletely my own mistress throughout. And here was a man,decidedly good-looking - Jane and Susan Green call him bewitchinglyhandsome I suppose they're two of the ladies he pretends would beso glad to have him; but, however, he was certainly a very clever,witty, agreeable companion - not what you call clever, but justenough to make him entertaining; and a man one needn't be ashamedof anywhere, and would not soon grow tired of; and to confess thetruth, I rather liked him - better even, of late, than HarryMeltham - and he evidently idolised me; and yet, though he cameupon me all alone and unprepared, I had the wisdom, and the pride,and the strength to refuse him - and so scornfully and coolly as Idid: I have good reason to be proud of that.'

'And are you equally proud of having told him that his having thewealth of Sir Hugh Meltham would make no difference to you, whenthat was not the case; and of having promised to tell no one of hismisadventure, apparently without the slightest intention of keepingyour promise?'

'Of course! what else could I do? You would not have had me - butI see, Miss Grey, you're not in a good temper. Here's Matilda;I'll see what she and mamma have to say about it.'

She left me, offended at my want of sympathy, and thinking, nodoubt, that I envied her. I did not - at least, I firmly believedI did not. I was sorry for her; I was amazed, disgusted at herheartless vanity; I wondered why so much beauty should be given tothose who made so bad a use of it, and denied to some who wouldmake it a benefit to both themselves and others.

But, God knows best, I concluded. There are, I suppose, some menas vain, as selfish, and as heartless as she is, and, perhaps, suchwomen may be useful to punish them.