But,

fluencing all his actions, he was just the fit person for his position, and Marian could, on principle, wish earnestly to see him retain it, for his own sake, as well as to keep out Mr. Faulkner. alas! poor Marian, that the ministers should have chosen this precise time, so as just to bring the election the very week of Edmund's wedding!

What was to be done? Mrs. Lyddell could not believe that an election could go on right without dinner-parties of every visitable individual in the county; and how was Clara to manage them all? Mrs. Lyddell's only experiment, in coming into the room when there was company, had done her so much harm, that it was not on any account to be repeated; and her restlessness and anxiety, her persuasion that nothing could be done well in which she was not concerned, made the keeping her quiet a more anxious business than even the receiving the company. There was Mr. Lyddell wanting to have lists written, and needing all sorts of small helps to which he had been used from his active wife; everything came on the two girls, and Marian did not see how she could be spared even for the three days it would take to go to the wedding.

Perhaps the excitement about the election would have somewhat dulled the acuteness of the sacrifice, if it had not been for what was to come after it. The die must be cast without consultation with Edmund; she must write and tell them that their kind design for her was in vain.

Gerald was at Oakworthy for the first week of his holidays, and he was the only person she could call to hold council with her. She had some difficulty in catching him; for he was galloping about with messages all day, figuring to himself that he produced a grand effect in the canvass,-making caricatures, describing them to Lionel, and conducting him wherever he was not expected to be seen. However, catch him she did at bed-time, and pulling him into her room, propounded her difficulty.

66

Gerald, I don't see how I am ever to manage to go with you to their wedding."

"Ha! don't you? Well, it would be a pity to lose the nomination-day, and the show of hands; I should travel all night to be in time, but you could not, I suppose?"

"I? why you don't think I should go to it?"

"Lionel will-I am to take care of Lionel. Can't you go? What a bore it must be to be a woman! Well, then, why don't you come to the wedding?"

"Because I think Clara will get into such a fuss, if there is no one to help her at the dinner the evening before. There is Mrs. Pringle coming to dine and sleep, so it can't be only a gentlemen's party; and there is so much to do."

"Whew! it will be very stupid of you not to come; and how Agnes will scold! But I suppose you can't be everywhere. One would

give up something for the sake of beating such a rogue as that Faulkner."

"If we were but sure of doing it."

"Sure! Why we shall smash him to shivers, if one fortieth part of the people are but as good as their word. Did I tell you, Marian, how I answered that old farmer to-day?" &c., &c., all which Marian had to hear, before she could get him back to the matter in hand.

"I am almost sorry to give up those three days," he said, "though it is for their wedding; but you see, Marian," and the boy spoke with his air of consequence, "I think it is expected of me, and they would all be disappointed. It would not look as if it was well between Edmund and me, if I was not present; but you can please yourself, you know."

"Yes, yes, you could not stay away," said Marian; "I should be very sorry that you should. You must go."

"And if I come away that afternoon, I may be back by the mail train by one at night, and be in time for the show of hands. Hurrah! I've a mind to write to Jemmy, to buy up all the rotten eggs in Fern Torr."

"You wild animal! But do be sensible a little while, Gerald, for I have something serious to ask your advice upon."

"Well," and all the wisdom of sixteen was at her service. "I want to know what you think about my living here, or at Fern Torr?"

"Hollo! why I thought it was settled long ago that you were to live at the Quarry with them."

"So it was; but I don't know whether I am not more wanted here than there."

"You don't mean that they have changed their mind, and don't want to have you?"

"Not a bit-0 dear, no! but I think, somehow, Clara and Lionel find me of more use than they would."

"To be sure, this place would be in a pretty tolerable sort of mess without you. I don't know how any of them would get on." “Well, then, I wanted your opinion, Gerald; I had better tell Edmund and Agnes that I ought to stay on here."

"But what am I to do? I mean to be at Fern Torr in the holidays, I assure you, except a week or two, just to see Lionel; and I don't mean to have my holidays without you, I assure you !"

"O, I hope always to come home for them."

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Why, then, if I have you when I am at home, I don't care,I mean- -" said Gerald, conscious of the egotism he was committing, "I mean you don't like it half so well, do you?" "O no-I mean-I don't know-❞ "Which do you mean?"

"I don't know at least, of course I had rather be with Edmund and Agnes than anybody else, except you; but then, if I was thinking Lionel had no one to read to him, or to ride with, or that Mrs. Lyddell was worse, and Clara unhappy, I could hardly enjoy it."

"You would not think so much about it if you were away from them."

"Perhaps not, but it would be the same, and it would haunt me at night."

"But, Marian, you can't give up Edmund and Agnes now they have built a room for you?"

"I must have it when I come for your holidays." "Well, you must do as you please," said Gerald. "And you won't be vexed ?"

"Vexed! Why should I? It is nothing to me, if I have you when I am at home; and, indeed, I don't see what poor Lionel would do without you. I suppose it is the best way, since you like it; only you must settle it with Agnes your own way. I shall tell her it is not my fault. Won't she be in a rage, that's all !"

With which sentence Sir Gerald's acquiescence was conveyed, with little perception of the struggle in his sister's mind, and of the pain and grief it was to her to write to her cousin and friend, begging them to release her from her promise.

As to the rest of the house, they never appeared to think at all about her quitting them; or if Clara and Lionel did, perchance, remember that it had been spoken of, they hoped that it was blown over, and dreaded the revival of the idea too much to refer to it. Not one of the whole family guessed that to them was sacrificed the most treasured project of Marian's life.

She had made up her mind, but she could not bear to write to tell her friend that her plans were frustrated; so it was to Edmund that she wrote the full detail of her reasons and regrets, begging him to forgive her, and to make her peace with Agnes; while she begged Mrs. Wortley to excuse her for missing the wedding.

Edmund's answer was just what she wished, and indeed expected. “You are right," he said, “and it is of no use to tell you how sorry we are. It is impossible to be so selfish as to wish you to act otherwise, and in process of time you may perhaps obtain Agnes' pardon in the mean time we never walk to the Quarry, without her abusing you for giving so much trouble for nothing. I would only advise one thing, namely, that you make no promise nor engagement respecting your place of residence, since circumstances may alter; and you had better not feel yourself bound. With this proviso we resign you to your own judgment, and to the place where you seem indeed at present to be most wanted."

So wrote Edmund: Agnes did not write at all. Marian an

nounced that she had given up going to the wedding. Clara was sorry she should miss it, but could not guess how she should have managed without her; and no one else had leisure to think at all, or else considered it quite as a matter of course that she should not go away when she was wanted.

If any one had, seven years, or even one year, ago told Marian how she would spend that bridal day, her incredulity would have been complete. So absorbed was she in Mr. Lyddell's election affairs that she hardly had time to think about it, between hopes and alarms, doubts and intelligence, visitors and preparations, notes to be written and papers to be found, Clara to be helped, Mrs. Lyddell to be kept quiet, Lionel's news to hear, the dinner party to be entertained. It was all one whirl, leaving no time for sitting down, and still less for musing. Lionel went indeed with his father to the committee-room, and was there half the day; for his services were wonderful, and particularly his memory for names and places, to which Mr. Lyddell declared he would rather trust than to any memorandum. He was thus out of Marian's way all the morning, but there was enough to occupy her without him, and in the afternoon he came home, full of news, and especially full of glory, in a conquest of his own, a doubtful voter, whom he had recollected, and undertaken to secure, had made the servant drive him round that way, canvassed on his own account, and obtained a promise, extracted as Marian suspected, by admiration of the blind young gentleman's high spirit and independence.

Mr. Lyddell was particularly delighted; when he came home very late, just before the eight o'clock dinner, he came up into his wife's room, and told her the whole story, told Marian all over again on the stairs, and told it a third time to some of the dinner guests, before Lionel came down. Marian saw he valued that vote above all the rest.

Busy as the day had been, Marian was resolved to sit up till her brother's return at two o'clock in the morning, to hear his tidings, and she expected to enjoy the space for thinking; but the thoughts would not be settled, and instead of dwelling on Edmund and Agnes, she found herself continually going back to the voters' list, and counting up the forces on each side. Then she grew sleepy, and fell into a long musing dream of shapeless fancies, woke herself, tried to write to Agnes, and went off into her former vision of felicity in the house at the Quarry, which she indulged in, forgetting that she had renounced it. At last came the sounds of a carriage, and of opening doors. She met Gerald

on the stairs, but he was sleepy and would say little. "It had all gone off very well-yes-nobody cried-he had a bit of wedding-cake for her, and here was note, she should hear all about it another time;"-yawn, and he shut himself into his own

room. That was all Marian obtained by her vigil. Yes, there was the note, put in with the wedding cards.

DEAREST MARIAN,-You are the best creature and the horridest wretch in the world, and I am so equally divided between fury and admiration that I cannot find one word to say, though I always vowed you should have the first letter from

Your most affectionate Cousin,
AGNES ARUNDEL.

Married or not, Agnes could not cease from her wild performances, thought Marian, as a little disappointed, she went at length to bed.

There was not much more of the wedding to be heard from Gerald the next morning, for he was full of the nomination, and proud of having Lionel under his especial charge.

This day was as wild a bustle as the former one, and there was still more excitement in the evening. Of course the show of hands had been in favour of Mr. Faulkner, of course he and his proposer and seconder had behaved only one more disgracefully than the other, of course the rabble had behaved shamefully, and the boys were almost beside themselves with wrath; and besides the details of all these matters-of-course, the boys had adventures of their own, for somehow Gerald and Lionel had been left in the midst of a vituperative mob, out of which Gerald had brought off his companion in a most spirited and successful way, without letting any one discover Lionel's blindness, which would have been the most efficient protection for both. Again and again Marian was told of the gallant way in which both boys had conducted themselves, and proud and pleased was she.

Mr. Lyddell lost his seat, and the boys were half mad, a hundred times more concerned than he was himself, while Marian moralized to herself on why it was allowed to happen that he should be set aside from public life, just when he would have begun to act on truly sound principles. And yet perhaps the leisure he thus obtained, and the seclusion from the whirl of politics were the very things he needed, to draw him entirely apart from the world which had so long engrossed him.

It was about six weeks after this that Mr. and Mrs. Edmund Arundel, in acceptance of a warm invitation from Mr. Lyddell, were driving along the white road leading to Oakworthy, after a very pleasant visit to the Marchmonts, when Selina had treated Agnes so affectionately, as to cause her to forget all past neglect, and had, as Edmund said, sealed their friendship, by raving at Marian's decision. "It was too bad," said she, "when they had given up London,-the only thing that made it tolerable."

To which, however, Agnes did not quite agree.

And now," said she," I shall see whether Marian is happy."