the two seemed to embrace, and at last to melt into each other. Such were the dreams of Eustace's prison hours, and they were at least better dreams than any which he had of late enjoyed. Whether they will last in the actual daylight of the world, is a problem which must wait for a solution from his subsequent history; if not, let us hope that whatever good particles are in them may survive the dispersion of the rest, and may be united to others as real as themselves—as beautiful as those from which they have been separated. CHAPTER XVI. One woman reads another's character, For a month after Charles Vyvyan's departure, Honoria received no tidings from her guardian. Letters from the Hall often came to Miss Vyvyan, and they seemed to occasion her much uneasiness; but she never revealed their contents. Once or twice she was observed to be in close conference with Captain Marryatt after their arrival; a circumstance which caused our heroine some little surprise. At length the following epistle reached her: "Well, my dear cousin, we are beginning to stand on our feet once more. All the last month we have been walking on our heads, and every thing and every body have been upside down. I cannot tell how unsteady I feel even now; but I cannot write to you without positive shame-and that is a great comfort. Who would have supposed that a meeting in a churchyard beside mamma's grave could have thrown us into this confusion?-but I cannot bear to think of it. A strange accident put an end to our troubles, and in part rewarded us for them; and that I must hasten to tell you of. It was several days after the cliff adventure, of which aunt Mary will have informed you-(I hope she is not very angry with me for it: do tell her that I am very matronly in my general proceedings now; but the temptation of seeing that horrid woman slide down a long sand-hill, crying for help, was irresistible. I had made her my enemy before, and I did not care whether she was a little more or less implacable) -it was several days after this, while I was under dreadful disgrace with papa, that she came to the Hall without the young Quakeress, who was ill. You know, when first they came, she took pains that we should see as much as possible of Miss Duncan; but that, of late, since I began to display my bad disposition, every device was used to prevent us from being alone with her for a single moment. Do what I would, therefore, it was impossible to comply with my aunt's request that I would speak to her about the little girl, for papa had solemnly forbidden me to mention the painful subject publicly. But I was determined to find an opportunity, or make one, and this was the best that offered. I was indisposed, for I have never been used to lectures from papa, and they gave me a shocking head-ache. I had sent down an excuse for not appearing. It was particularly proper that two invalids should spend the evening together; so, as soon as Louisa brought me word of Miss Duncan's illness, I walked out to feed the pheasants, ordered that the pony should meet me at Conolly Gate, and rode off. Their lodgings you know are just out of M, nearly five miles from us. Caroline's astonishment, when I dismounted, was beyond all description. That I should ride out in the dusk, without a companion, along a lonely road, and a part of the beach, was almost beyond the young Quakeress's belief; indeed, when I remembered that I had told no one in what direction I was going, and that I was to return home in the evening as I might, I felt inclined to agree with her that my prudence was questionable. But there I was, and I resolved to profit by my situation. Of course, I felt it my duty to be as lively as possible; as possible; but you must be aware that there are many things easier than to be lively and amusing with Miss Duncan. She denies any knowledge of London, she cares nothing for the country. She dislikes walking, is afraid to ride, has very little pleasure in music, and none at all in pictures. Once I thought she must be literary, and I began to be frightened; but a few cautious questions about Scott's Novels relieved me from that apprehension. At last, I settled in my mind that her only knowledge lay in abductions; and though I was very anxious for information on that subject, having no practical acquaintance with it at present, she naturally was too proud of her learning to communicate it. But one morning I discovered her secret predilections. We had been sitting for a long time in silence, her eyes bent on the ground, when, on a sudden, shé exclaimed, in a transport of enthusiasm, most gratifying to my feelings, and complimentary to my shoemaker,—' Maria Vyvyan, where didst thou buy thy sandals-they are so pretty?' From that time our conversation has been more easy and agreeable, and this evening I poured into her willing ear all the wisdom which I had accumulated in the five last conversations with my dressmaker. What will you say to that, you haughty London creature? I, Maria Vyvyan, giving lectures on dress to a young lady from Upper Brook Street! 'Well,' said the Quakeress, after I had descanted for some time with great eloquence on the beau |