"Oh, dearly," answered Alice, with some enthusiasm ; never saw many till I came here."

66 I

"Now then, I can go on," thought Maltravers: why I cannot say, for I do not see the sequitur; but on he went in medias res. "Alice, you sing charmingly.'

"Ah! sir, you-you-" she stopped abruptly and trembled visibly.

"Yes, I overheard you, Alice."

"And you are angry?

"I-Heaven forbid! It is a talent, but you don't know what that is; I mean it is an excellent thing to have an ear, and a voice, and a heart for music; and you have all three."

He paused, for he felt his hand touched; Alice suddenly clasped and kissed it. Maltravers thrilled through his whole frame; but there was something in the girl's look that showed she was wholly unaware that she had committed an unmaidenly or forward action.

"I was so afraid you would be angry," she said, wiping her eyes as she dropped his hand; " and now, I suppose you know all."

"All!"

66

Yes; how I listened to you every evening, and lay awake the whole night with the music ringing in my ears, till I tried to go over it myself; and so at last I ventured to sing aloud. I like that much better than learning to read."

All this was delightful to Maltravers; the girl had touched upon one of his weak points however, he remained silent. Alice continued.

"And now, sir, I hope you will let me come and sit outside the door every evening and hear you; I will make no noise-I will be so quiet!"

"What, in that cold corridor, these bitter nights!"

"I am used to cold, sir. Father would not let me have a fire when he was not at home."

"No, Alice, but you shall come into the room while I play, and I will give you a lesson or two. I am glad you have so good an ear; it may be a means of your earning your own honest livelihood when you leave me."

"When I -- but I never intend to leave you, sir!" said Alice, beginning fearfully and ending calmly.

Maltravers had recourse to the meerschaum.

Luckily, perhaps, at this time they were joined by Mr. Simcox, the old writing-master. Alice went in to prepare her books; but Maltravers laid his hand upon the preceptor's shoulder.

"You have a quick pupil, I hope, sir," said he.

"O very, very, Mr. Butler. She comes on famously. She practises a great deal when I am away, and I do my best."

"And," asked Maltravers, in a grave tone, "have you succeeded in instilling into the poor child's mind some of those more sacred notions, of which I spoke to you in our first meeting?" "Why, sir, she was indeed quite a heathen, quite a Mahometan, I may say; but she is a little better now."

"What have you taught her?"

"That God made her.”

"That is a great step.

"And that he loves good girls, and will watch over them." "Bravo! You beat Plato.

"No, sir, I never beat any one, except little Jack Turner; but he's a dunce."

"Bah! What else do you teach her?"

"That the devil runs away with bad girls, and

Stop there, M. Simcox. Never mind the devil yet awhile. Let her first learn to do good, that God may love her; the rest will follow. I would rather make people religious through their best feelings than their worst,-through their gratitude and affections, rather than their fears and calculations of risk and punishment. We can do without the devil at present: that is a great mystery, and to be approached cautiously," muttered Maltravers.

Mr. Simcox stared.

"Does she say her prayers?"

"I have taught her a short one." "Did she learn it readily?"

"Lord love her, yes. When I told her she ought to pray God to bless her benefactor, she would not rest till I had repeated one out of our Sunday-school book, and she got it by heart at once." "Enough, Mr. Simcox. I will not detain you longer."

Forgetful of his untasted breakfast, Maltravers continued his meerschaum and his reflections: he dit not cease, till he had convinced himself that he was but doing his duty to Alice, by teaching her to cultivate the charming talent she evidently possessed, and through which she might secure her own independence. He fancied that he should thus relieve himself of a charge and responsibility, which often perplexed him. Alice would leave him, enabled to walk the world in an honest professional path. It was an excellent idea. "But there is danger," whispered conscience. "Ay," answered philosophy and pride, those wise dupes that are always so solemn, and always so taken in; "but what is virtue without trial?”

And now every evening, when the windows were closed, and the hearth burnt clear, while the winds stormed, and the rain

beat without, a lithe and lovely shape hovered about the student's chamber; and his wild songs were sung by a voice, which Nature had made even sweeter than his own.

Alice's talent for music was indeed surprising; enthusiastic and quick, as he himself was in all he undertook, Maltravers was amazed at her rapid progress. He soon taught her to play by ear; and Maltravers could not but notice that her hand, always delicate in shape, had lost the rude colour and roughness of labour. He thought of that pretty hand more often than he ought to have done, and guided it over the keys, when it could have found its way very well without him.

On coming to the cottage, he had directed the old servant to provide suitable and proper clothes for Alice; but now that she was admitted "to sit with the gentleman," the crone had the sense, without waiting for new orders, to buy the "pretty young woman" garments, still indeed simple, but of better materials, and less rustic fashion; and Alice's redundant tresses were now carefully arranged into orderly and glossy curls, and even the texture was no longer the same; and happiness and health bloomed on her downy cheeks, and smiled from the dewy lips, which never quite closed over the fresh white teeth, except when she was sad;-but that seemed never, now she was not banished from Maltravers.

To say nothing of the unusual grace and delicacy of Alice's form and features, there is nearly always something of Nature's own gentility in very young women, (except indeed when they get together and fall a-giggling;) it shames us men to see how much sooner they are polished into conventional shape, than our rough, masculine angles. A vulgar boy requires, Heaven knows what assiduity, to move three steps-I do not say like a gentleman, but like a body that has a soul in it; but give the least advantage of society or tuition to a peasant girl, and a hundred to one but she will glide into refinement, before the boy can make a bow without upsetting the table. There is sentiment in all women, and sentiment gives delicacy to thought, and tact to manner. But sentiment with men is generally acquired, an offspring of the intellectual quality, not, as with the other sex, of the moral.

In the course of his musical and vocal lessons, Maltravers gently took the occasion to correct poor Alice's frequent offences against grammar and accent; and her memory was prodigiously quick and retentive. The very tones of her voice seemed altered in the ear of Maltravers; and, somehow or other, the time came when he was no longer sensible to the difference in their rank.

The old woman-servant, when she had seen how it would be from the first, and taken a pride in her own prophecy, as she

ordered Alice's new dresses, was a much better philosopher than Maltravers; though he was already up to his ears in the moon-lit abyss of Plato; and had filled a dozen common-place books with criticisms on Kant.

As education does not consist in reading and writing only, so Alice, while still very backward in those elementary arts, forestalled some of their maturest results in her intercourse with Maltravers. Before the inoculation took effect, she caught knowledge in the natural way. For the refinement of a graceful mind and a happy manner is very contagious. And Maltravers was encouraged by her quickness in music to attempt such instruction in other studies as conversation could afford. It is a better school than parents and masters think for there was a time when all information was given orally; and probably the Athenians learnt more from hearing Aristotle, than we do from reading him. It was a delicious revival of Academe-in the walks, or beneath the rustic porticos of that little cottage, the romantic philosopher and the beautiful disciple! And his talk was much like that of a sage of the early world, with some wistful and earnest savage for a listener;-of the stars and their courses-of beasts and birds and fishes, and plants and flowers-the wide Family of Nature -of the beneficence and power of God-of the mystic and spiritual History of Man.

Charmed by her attention and docility, Maltravers at length diverged from lore into poetry; he would repeat to her the simplest and most natural passages he could remember in his favourite poets; he would himself compose verses claborately adapted to her understanding: she liked the last the best, and learned them the easiest. Never had young poet a more gracious inspiration, and never did this inharmonious world more complacently resolve itself into soft dreams, as if to humour the novitiate of the victims it must speedily take into its joyless priesthood. And Alice had now quietly and insensibly carved out her own avocations-the tenor of her service. The plants in the conservatory had passed under her care, and no one else was privileged to touch Maltravers' books, or arrange the sacred litter of a student's apartment. When he came down in the morning, or returned from his walks, everything was in order, yet by a kind of magic, just as he wished it; the flowers he loved best, bloomed,

fresh-gathered, on his table; the very position of the large chair, just in that corner by the fire-place, whence, on entering the room, its hospitable arms opened with the most cordial air of welcome, bespoke the presiding genius of a woman; and then, precisely as the clock struck eight, Alice entered, so pretty and smiling, and happy looking, that it was no wonder the single hour at first allotted to her extended into three.

Was Alice in love with Maltravers?—she certainly did not exhibit the symptoms in the ordinary way she did not grow more reserved, and agitated, and timid there was no worm in the bud of her damask cheek; nay, though from the first she had been tolerably bold, she was more free and confidential, more at her ease every day; in fact, she never for a moment suspected that she ought to be otherwise; she had not the conventional and sensitive delicacy of girls who, whatever their rank of life, have been taught that there is a mystery and a peril in love; she had a vague idea about girls going wrong, but she did not know that love had anything to do with it; on the contrary, according to her father, it had connexion with money, not love; all that she felt was so natural, and so very sinless. Could she help being so delighted to listen to him, and so grieved to depart? What thus she felt she expressed, no less simply and no less guilelessly: and the candour sometimes completely blinded and misled him. No, she could not be in love, or she could not so frankly own that she loved him—it was a sisterly and grateful sentiment.

"The dear girl-I am rejoiced to think so," said Maltravers to himself; "I knew there would be no danger.'

Was he not in love himself? the reader must decide.

"Alice," said Maltravers, one evening, after a long pause of thought and abstraction on his side, while she was unconsciously practising her last acquisition on the piano" Alice, — no, don't turn round-sit where you are, but listen to me. We cannot live always in this way."

Alice was instantly disobedient- she did turn round, and those great blue eyes were fixed on his own with such anxiety and alarm, that he had no resource but to get up and look round for the meerschaum. But Alice, vho divined by an instinct his lightest wish, brought it to him, while he was yet hunting, amidst the farther corners of the room, in places where it was certain not to be. There it was, already filled with the fragrant Salonica, glittering with the gilt pastile which, not too healthfully, adulterates the seductive weed, with odours that pacify the repugnant censure of the fastidious for Maltravers was an epicurean even in his worst habits; - there it was, I say, in that pretty hand which he had to touch as he took it; and while he