was more staid and composed-the nature of her position, and the trials she had passed through, appeared to throw a shade of seriousness and thoughtfulness over her features as well as her character. Though both of the same age, Fanny, gay and giddy, appeared younger than Alice, whose mild and subdued demeanour would have argued more advanced years. The auburn tresses of the one seemed to shed a warm smile of sunshine over her fair, clear, almost transparent countenance, while the jet-black tresses and long dark eyelashes of the other, seemed appropriately to sympathise with the cool calm serenity of her features.

Let us dwell no longer in describing the beauties or the characters of the two cousins; it is to be hoped that they will be more fully developed in the course of the narrative, otherwise we have dilated on the subject too long already.

Fanny Templeton and Alice Shortridge were sitting together at their needlework one fine evening, at that period of the year when summer is merging into autumn. Alice appeared to be entirely devoted to her work, while there was a restless inattention to the manual employment about which she was engaged, which seemed to betoken that the thoughts of her companion were otherwise occupied.

"I should have thought, Alice, that, after the accident of last night, the gentlemen who were the occasion of it might have come to make their apologies, or, at least, to have inquired after our health."

"Probably," replied the young lady addressed, "when military officers drive their own tandems, and a collision takes place with the gig of a bourgeoise, they may think the latter sufficiently honoured, without being entitled to claim further acquaintanceship."

"I have a less matter-of-fact opinion of military officers," replied Fanny; "had the collision occurred on account of the stupidity of a country bumpkin driving a waggon-load of hay, they would, probably, have given him a sound drubbing in addition to his fright; but when the case happens to be between a dashing tandem and a smart little gig, I think the collision, as you call it, might at least have elicited a few sparks of gallantry between the brave and the fair."

"I confess," said Alice, "I am rather pleased than disappointed that we have heard no more of them."

"I never saw such a tame creature as you are, Alice. I do believe you would be contented to live for ever without either knowing or speaking to any one above lawyers' clerks and emancipated school-boys; you must allow that the air and address of the officers in question was very different from that of the tame humdrum people we are accustomed to meet with."

"I will readily allow, dear Fanny, that their wild recklessness is different from the tameness, as you call it, of our ordinary acquaintances, otherwise the accident had probably never occurred; but the condescending civility which they showed to us after they did frighten us, compared with their solicitude after their horses and their accoutrements, appeared to me to be little complimentary."

At this moment a rap at the door was soon followed by the entrance of a servant, announcing that a messenger from Captain Torrens, craving permission to deliver a message in person.

Pray admit him;" said Fanny, and a tall handsome-looking servant in rich livery entered the apartment.

"Ladies," said the servant, entering with a low bow, "Captain Torrens, of the 15th Fusileers, desires to present his most respectful compliments, and hopes to hear that you have received no injury from the accident of last night."

"Oh! none, none," replied Fanny, hastily. "Pray tell Captain Torrens that we were neither frightened nor hurt."

"Captain Torrens regrets very much, ladies, that an accident should have occurred for which he has so much to blame himself, and he has desired me to inform you that Mr. Truebuild, the coachwright, has received his instructions to make good any damage whatever that may have been received."

"Captain Torrens is very kind. Please make known to him that no damage has been received by us, and that we hope he has been equally fortunate."

When the servant retired, Fanny could scarcely conceal her agitation from her more stoical companion.

"I was sure, Alice," said Fanny, when they were left alone, "that whatever faults officers may have, a want of politeness or attention to the fair sex is not among the number. What a striking man Captain Torrens appeared to be-tall, without being ungainly; polite, but not servile; proud, without disdain. He makes one feel every word to be a favour, and every look to be an honour and a kindness. In modern times, Alice, gentlemen have supplanted knights, and gallantry is the descendant of chivalry."

"I confess, Fanny, I am not so romantic; in my eyes, the spear is supplanted by the theodolite, and the sword by the pen. I would have you to forget this Captain Torrens and all of his cloth; if I mistake not, the name he is only famous for, being the wildest and most reckless of his class, as, indeed, the adventure of last evening might well lead us to believe. You have an abundance of suitors among our own townspeople, whose character, pursuits, and prospects are better known to us. In our unprotected position, Fanny, allow me to say that an acquaintance with soldiers and other birds of passage is anything but prudent or desirable." “Why, what a girl you are," retorted Fanny; "one cannot send a civil message to a captain in the army, but forthwith you must fly off at a tangent to ladders, coaches, moonlight nights, and distracted relations. I suppose I ought to confine all my civility to Mr. Shepherd, or some one or other of our 'How do you do,' 'Very well I thank you,' sort of acquaintances."

"Indeed, Fanny, I think you are very cool, not to say unkind, to Mr. Shepherd. You know he is devotedly attached to you; that his character is unimpeachable; his temper, as you well know, most amiable; and his prospects and position everything that could be desired."

"Mr. Shepherd, indeed! A poor, mean-spirited soul, who blushes whenever you look upon him, and whose heart palpitates whenever he speaks to you. And as for the Browns, Smiths, &c., why they only praise and follow one because they cannot help themselves. Why, I might

Turn them all off as a huntsman his pack;

For I know, when I please, I can ogle them back.

No, no, Alice, to please me it must be some man who can interest me;

some one I could look up to for his spirit, some one who would commend me; some one to fear and respect as well as to love."

"But, madam

"Pray no more, Miss Prudentia; if Mr. Shepherd be such a favourite of yours, I shall relieve him of all allegiance to me; he shall be your swain, and you shall be his damsel; by hook and crook I abjure him altogether

At this moment a servant entered-" Ladies, Mr. Shepherd waits." "And here he comes, Miss Shortridge, and I shall leave you to open the campaign." Before Fanny could leave the room or Alice could make any reply, a rather handsome-looking, plain, but well-dressed gentleman, had entered and made his obeisance to Fanny, who was on the point of leaving. The position of the whole was rather embarrassing. Alice Shortridge sunk quietly down into a corner of a sofa, seeking to hide with her work the blush which was mantling over her countenance, and Fanny found some difficulty in composing her features to that degree of benignity due to their past intimacy, and the courtesy usually extended to a friend of the family.

"I have come, Miss Fanny," said Mr. Shepherd, "to offer my congratulations on your having escaped unscathed, I hope, from an accident which might have given rise to serious consequences.'

"We are entirely unscathed as you say, Mr. Shepherd; and you at least have no reason to regret the occurrence of the accident, as it has procured you an ally, supporter, and defender in the person of Miss Shortridge, whose presence you appear to have entirely forgotten."

"Will Miss Shortridge forgive me? I beg a thousand pardons," said Mr. Shepherd, with all the embarrassment of one who is anxious to make up for a breach of politeness involuntarily committed.

"You are perfectly acquitted, Mr. Shepherd," said Alice, mildly, as she quietly glided out of the room, as much to the annoyance of her cousin as to the relief of the intruder.

"And in what, pray, has Miss Shortridge proved my ally, supporter, and defender," inquired Mr. Shepherd. "If it be in assisting me in my pretensions for your favour, may I venture to hope that she has been, or will be successful."

"You are indebted to Miss Shortridge, sir, for recommending your character as unimpeachable, your temper as imperturbable, and your position and prospects as high and favourable; might I recommend you, therefore, to address your attentions to those who can justly appreciate such claims."

"Am I to understand, Miss Templeton, that you are insensible to such advantages presented to you in all sincerity and devotion."

"Were all these advantages, as you call them, to be weighed in the balance of prudence, Mr. Shepherd, they might doubtless prevail, but my affections must be gained by other qualities than those of unimpeachable character or imperturbable temper, and they are not to be purchased, as you seem to suppose, by high position or prospects."

"You wrong me in supposing I seek to purchase your affections, Miss Templeton; but surely I ought not to be considered as prejudging my pretensions by showing that I am qualified to support as a wife the lady whose favour I am seeking to gain as a suitor."

"If your judgment be as sound as your other qualities, Mr. Shepherd,

it must occur to you that I am in every way unsuited to you when I estimate so lightly all the advantages and claims which you appreciate so highly. An amiable temper, unimpeachable character, and so on, are merely negative attributes, and have fewer charms for me than bold decision of character, and a soul that swells with its own noble impulses. By such a mind I would submit to be governed more readily than I could condescend to rule and dictate to the tame or the submissive."

"Miss Templeton, yours is the language of romance more than of

reason."

"It may be so, Mr. Shepherd; youth is the period for enjoying the romance of feeling. I may be drilled in the course of years into viewing things more reasonably, and then I have no doubt there will be Mr. Shepherds in the world then as well as there be now. By the By the way, do you know anything of Captain Torrens, Mr. Shepherd ?"

"Captain Torrens! Why, that is the gentleman with whom you had the rencontre last evening."

You ap

"The same, Mr. Shepherd. The most engaging, dignified looking young man I have had the pleasure of seeing for a long time. pear to be uneasy, sir. Pray does he owe you any money?"

"That is not the subject of my uneasiness, Miss Templeton. He is"

"Of good family, I presume?"

"His family, Miss Templeton, is better than—-”

"His credit, I suppose."

"May I hope," said Mr. Shepherd, with a voice which anxiety rendered tremulous, "that Captain Torrens has not the honour of claiming you among the number of his acquaintances as yet."

"I certainly cannot claim that privilege as yet.'

"If," said Mr. Shepherd-"if you be anxious to form such an ac quaintanceship, Miss Templeton-"

"I thank you, Mr. Shepherd," interrupted Fanny, sharply, "it is the only thing in which you could oblige me.'

"I was about to inform you, madam, that to make Captain Torrens's acquaintance it must be sought for in the ball-room, the theatre, or the gambling-table; but as my advice or warnings are only likely to be misinterpreted in your present frame of mind, allow me to wish you good-by, and to hope that you may grant me a more courteous and favourable reception on the occasion of a future visit. Good-by, Miss Templeton."

"Adieu, adieu. I wish you good morning, Mr. Shepherd," cried the young lady, in a voice so sweet and tender that the dispirited suitor, as he looked round, appeared almost to hesitate whether he ought not to return to throw himself at her feet; but Fanny either was, or seemed to be, already deep in the mysteries of a book, and Mr. Shepherd dashed out of the room with mingled feelings of reviving hope and exasperated chagrin.

"Well, so I have got rid of him at last, thank goodness," cried Fanny Templeton, as she heard the retreating footsteps. "I am afraid I may have been rather severe to the poor man, but I cannot bear to hear such prosy old maxims from one so young. He mistakes my character altogether when he thinks that I am to be bribed into being a wife by the offer of a good household; there is time enough for that yet; surely love has not been banished from the world along with stage coaches."

THE CONFEDERATES; OR, THE DAYS OF MARGARET OF

PARMA.

AN HISTORICAL ROMANCE.

CHAPTER XXIX.

WHEN the confederates returned to the inn which they had made their head-quarters, Arkel, in spite of the gibes of Lancelot de Brederode, declined entering with him and the rest of the party within its walls, where the tediousness of a long, unoccupied day, was generally only relieved by the intemperance of the evening meal, which was, for the most part, prolonged into midnight orgies.

Arkel, as yet uncontaminated by such scenes, viewed them with disgust, and the wish of escaping for a time from his dissipated associates, added to the beauty of the evening, were the motives he assigned to himself for this desire of solitude.

Previous to the departure of Paul van Meeren, he had spent many a pleasant hour in his company, for, in spite of the gravity of his habits, the warmth and enthusiasm of his nature made the society of that individual attractive to one so ardent and generous in spirit as Arkel. Many other agreeable moments had glided away in the atelier of Kay; and, but for these resorts, and the progress of those political intrigues which he had so thoughtlessly made the business of his life, his sojourn in Antwerp would have been dull indeed.

The thoughts of the young cannot, however, tend always to one point. It is one of the blessed privileges of unsullied youth, that it reflects the world in its bosom with ever-varying colours, as the prism does the light; and the mind of Arkel had gradually become tinged with the leading views and sentiments of those into whose intercourse chance had led him. Thus it was that the half forgotten, at first even but slightly remarked, Margaret van Meeren had become, since his return to Antwerp, a familiar and a pleasing remembrance. Involuntarily, unconsciously, whenever Paul gave way to any familiar conversation, Margaret's name was on his lips. She was his only remaining tie on earth, and he clung to her with a tenderness proportioned to the scarcity of channels wherein his natural affections could flow. The infatuation of his brother-the dangers into which his weak prepossessions in favour of his Spanish inmate were likely to plunge him and his family, his anxieties about his niece's ultimate fate, and his discussions with Kay upon the subject of her real sentiments towards Chievosa, brought Margaret's name often on the tapis; and her virtues, accomplishments, tastes, fancies, and circumstances, were discussed freely in Arkel's presence. This, added to the fact of her pretty face being often repeated in Kay's sketches and pictures, and that in a most friendly manner, had caused her to appear, in the course of a very few days, to the young nobleman in the light of an old acquaintance, and in consequence of her sex and charms, in that of an interesting one.

The circumstance of Margaret having been so often of late present to the mind of Arkel, was, doubtless, the cause why he had no difficulty in recognising her upon the steps of the house as his party rode by. Lancelot de Brederode had noticed both his courtesy and the deep blushes with