rode, with mad and unchecked speed, from Windersleigh Abbey to the Retreat.

Few days had elapsed when the intelligence reached him, that Alice Windermere, with her mother and Sir Reginald, had forsaken the Abbey, and taken up their residence, for the season, at their magnificent mansion in town. Their arrival was commemorated in due form and pomp amongst the newspaper accounts of haut ton movements; and the flower that Alice Windermere gave in the conservatory at the Haye, had scarcely withered, before he read that name, which still acted as a spell upon his spirit, in lists of gay assemblies and fashionable crowds. He had forgotten Ralph Jennings.

CHAPTER XIV.

"I am not splenetic, nor envious;

But 'tis a name I dare not trust my lips with!"

MILMAN.

WEEKS rolled on. Constance Grey, restored to health, could have been happy. Her mind had become calm - her feelings tranquil.

Thoughts of more than pure but fervent esteem for her fascinating cousin had been discouraged, until they almost ceased to recur. But she saw that darkness had fallen on the spirit of her brother. It had come suddenly upon him; whence she knew not. Its cause she could not even surmise. He had become, as his father-a recluse, avoiding the society of all-shunning even Lord Percy, and scarcely holding communication with herself.

Lord Percy Huron sympathised in the feelings of Constance. They often conversed on

the painful mystery; but equally failed in accounting for the wild change in Grey, and in restoring him to his old cheerfulness.

Meanwhile, Thomas Smith Auget, Esq., M.P., was undergoing the tumultuous glories of public honour. Returned by the influence of his noble patron, the new member for Byborough had been occupied in feasting and in being feasted, and in writing letters, for the very delightful pleasure of franking them. His own liberalities were boundless. Oxen and sheep had been roasted whole, by herds, in the little town of Byborough, to the consternation of all horned cattle for miles around, who snuffed up the savour of their roasting companions, until they might be pardoned if they had eyed the market-place with fear and trembling. The successful candidate rejoiced to assert, that there remained not a single free and independent clodhopper amongst his supporters who had not learned, at his expense, to pronounce between Lafitte and Château Margot-between creaming Champagne and sparkling Burgundy.

Dinners at the tables of all the aristocracy

throughout the county, who valued his vote as a nominee of the marquess, and dinners at the Haye, succeeded each other without intermission. Barons and viscounts came miles to eat his venison, and the First Lord of the Treasury turned over the leaves of Miss Auget's music, to the infinite pride of Mrs. Auget, who perceived at once that the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Chancellor of the Exchequer were not the only judges of good music in virtue of their office. In addition to these high guests, M.P.'s in such profusion complimented Mr. Auget on his turtle, and Mrs. Auget on her taste, that the majority on his side of the house no longer appeared to admit

of doubt.

Dinners are very good things; but even dinners must cease, when legislators are summoned to their less pleasant but equally important duties. Mr. Auget had fulfilled his last engagement of the kind-had given the last of his own series of political entertainments. One business only detained him from assuming his seat in what he termed the greatest assembly of the greatest men in the

VOL. II.

M

greatest nation of the world; but that business was of the most important nature.

Mr. Auget had, by degrees, become satisfied with the conduct of Lord Dumbledore, and reconciled to his lordship's transference of Emily to Henry Molyneux. Established as

he now was, a member of the parliamentary circles, he felt he could afford to condescend; and the cares of the election, of the feasting, and of haranguing, having been brought, through a storm of difficulties, to a successful conclusion, Mr. Auget threw his whole energy, and, what was more important, a heavy purse, towards the accomplishment of his sole remaining county business-the marriage of Emily.

Clouds might stagnate over the dreams and prospects of less fortunate mortals; but all was sunshine at the Haye. Emily felt the sunshine. Her lover had daily grown more devoted, more inspiring. The world was gay and bright before her; and he, whose love was brighter still, was about to be joined to her heart for ever.

The settlements were completed the spaces