Such was the faint outline of our heroine, and such her charms, when her cousin, who formerly loved her so well, did not think it worth his while to snatch a few days from his city pleasures to visit her. True, he was not "in love"-that was a word he had never used to Rosine, and never had thought of using. But it is provoking to think that a friendship so pure and tender as that he had formerly entertained for her, could be so easily swallowed up in the vortex of amusement and dissipation.

But he must be pardoned now, however, as she who only has a right to blame, has already forgiven all his neglect and his peace is made. One single glance, one hurried embrace has restored him to her good graces, and their friendship more ardent, but as pure and inviolable as ever, resumes fresh empire over both. Henceforth a new drama is to commence. The destinies of our hero and heroine are, from this hour, interwoven with each other, and love, with all his train of joys and pangs, is waiting his moment to appear upon the scene.

CHAPTER V.

"Povero cuor! tu palpiti,
Eh a torto questo di';

Si tratta O! Dio, di perdere
Colui che ti ferie."

THERE is a virtue--a power in a single kind glance of a lovely woman! There is a charm, a fascination in her smile, when it is meant for him. who beholds it, that is irresistible: but what a magic --what a spell--what a mighty conjuration in the impress of her rosy lips, when her heart palpitates for the object who receives it! Resistless influence! The prudent-the cold--the selfish-the calculating may reason or rail as they will, your power remains the same. From the beginning of the world, at least as far back as authentic history goes, these things have been ever so. ever so. So may they ever be! Love should now and then assert his empire, and vindicate his sway. He makes sad work, it is true, occasionally, but it is only the excess of noble-of generous and tender sentiments; and pity and contempt rest on him who would crush the sweetest flowers that can embellish existence, for the sake of planting ignoble weeds in their place, and all for what? For fear our hearts may exercise too much control over our heads. Alas! that is not the foible of "the age we live in !"

We therefore on this occasion take leave to ex

cuse our hero, although we may have do expediency of his conduct, from all censure of proach for his abrupt tenderness. To be sure, it might have been as well, if he had said, "avec permission," or "pardonnez moi," before or after the operation, to give it the air of a French salutation: but mighty truth compels us to state that it was not intended or received as such. It was a round sweet kiss of friendship, and Rosine instead of making resistance or uproar on the occasion, submitted with the prettiest grace in the world to the infliction. There again she was right, even if her inclinations had been the other way-for as the song goes,

"If a body kiss a body,
Need a body cry?"

The innocent girl blushed enough to make a charming addition to her complexion--but it was the glow of pleasure, not of confusion. Hugh of course never thought of apologizing to his aunts for such a familiarity. They in fact, would have stared more at such an apology than they would at half a dozen such liberties. They believed, and believed rightly, that the only attachment he felt for her was a brother's love. The embrace was as pure as those they had so often exchanged in childhood. If he was altered in some respects, by his intercourse with the world, his heart was incapable of an idea inconsistent with the purest and tenderest friendship for her. Much as he found her ripened charms excited his admiration-delighted as he was, during the three hours he passed that morning in her company, with her wit, her gaiety, and her unconcealed regard for him, the effect was only to renew the fer

vour of his former attachment, but never once "gave him some sensations like a villain!"

As soon as the first bustle of our hero's reception was over, his aunts having all in turn embraced him tenderly, and sufficiently admired his person, they proceeded, of course, to scold him regularly for having so long neglected them. They set up, what appeared to him the most extravagant pretensions, and insisted that, in future, he ought to spend at least half the year at the Cottage. They urged the claims of relationship with extreme eloquence, and argued that it was unjust that he should bestow on uncle Hugh, alone, that society to which they had equal claims. Our hero hinted to them that there were other reasons, besides uncle Hugh's society, agreeable as it was, which induced him to prefer a city life, but the powerful arguments he read in Rosine's eyes finally led him to acquiesce in their united entreaties and expostulations, and the result was a promise to remain two months for the present. At first he mentioned a month-but happening to cast a glance at Rosine, and seeing that her look plainly expressed-" What, only one short month?"-he yielded instantly to the renewed entreaties of his aunts, and extended the period of his visit to two months. To Rosine's exclamation of the eyes, he replied, in the same language-"My lovely cousin, it is the pleasure of your society alone that persuades me to do it." Her response was a smile so winning that we cannot translate it into the written language of any ancient or modern tongue with which we have the honour of being acquainted.

Thrice happy were his maiden aunts, at the success of their appeal. They were now to have their darling nephew for two whole months to themselves,

as they thought. They were to have the felicity of seeing him eat and drink three times a day, of hearing him scold the domestics at least as often, and to watch him as he mounted his horse or got into his carriage for a ride; to bid him good night when he went to bed, and to wish him a good morning when he came to breakfast. This was nearly the sum total of the pleasure which they could fairly anticipate; but they were as delighted as if they, instead of our heroine, were to constitute the attraction that detained him at the Cottage. Aunt Agatha retired to her closet, and on her knees returned thanks to an overruling Providence for having preserved her nephew thus far through the trials and snares of a wicked world, and restored him once more to his own roof and fireside. Aunt Leonora, with the "Complete Cook" in her hand, is soon seen bustling with the mighty preparations for dinner. She herself draws the corks and decants the wine from bottles which appear to bear high pretensions to antiquity, and strong claims upon the attention of enlightened judges; we mean of connoisseurs, not particularly the judiciary department. In the mean time, Aunt Rose, who seldom meddled with household affairs, was amusing herself with listening to the conversation of her nephew and niece during a walk in the garden. Our hero, notwithstanding reminiscences of the past furnished the chief topic of conversation to them, did not scruple to inform Rosine that the little girl of other days, had grown up the most beautiful creature of the present time. Many other compliments, no doubt, equally flattering were slipped in from time to time, but aunt Rose's memory being none of the best, there are, unfortunately, no means of informing the reader precisely what they were.