"Decidedly," replied Marchmont.

"Oh! Mr. Marchmont-could you not recite a few stanzas to us?". said Almeria, beseechingly.

"Assuredly, if you wish it, fair girl!" replied the critic, turning his eye, however, upon her more important mamma, to ascertain whether his doing so would accord with her wishes.

"Do you look doubtingly at me, Marchmont ?" exclaimed Mrs. Gibson. "Is it indeed possible that you should not know the delight it would give me? My little Almeria and I are generally of one mind in these matters."

"Be it so, then," he replied. "I will give you some lines, as yet unpublished, which he sent to me last week, to know if I advised their being added to the new edition. I know not how it happens, but I never read any very beautiful poetry without its adhering to me, like a part of myself as it were."

"A sort of chemical affinity," said Marianne, looking up from her work, and fixing her eyes for a moment on the face of Mr. March

mont.

"I can al

He bowed to her as if greatly flattered, and went on. ways repeat what I greatly admire, without making any effort whatever to commit it to memory. The lines I am now going to recite, are on a Star, and, in my opinion, show an originality of thought which leads instantly to the conclusion that they are the genuine, unsophisticated product of a new world. They are entitled,

'Lines on a Star seen at midnight after drinking tea with a very beautiful young Lady.

BRIGHT candle in an everlasting stick!

How soothingly thy trembling rays descend
Upon a heart from o'erwrought feeling sick,
Whose leaping pulses towards madness tend!

Ah! I have touched her!-As the temperate bowl
Innoxious filled wholly with total tea,

From her hand passed to mine, my phrensied soul
Caught from that touch celestial ecstasy!

Yes! I have touched her! Let the golden strings
From whence thy native harp, oh, glancing Star!
Its soft accords to lessen startless flings,

Sending their music on the winds afar.

Let its sweet notes the blissful truth convey,
In sounds eternal as the theme I sing,

That tea thus handed, with dear coy delay,
Can rapture, such as God's might envy, bring.

And tears shall fall the while. And innocent sighs,
Such as babes breathe upon a mother's breast,

Shall fan the air till the wild fever flies,

Leaving the storm-swept heart once more at rest.”

As he repeated the last plaintive stanza, the voice of Mr. Marchmont sunk into a still small whisper, which seemed an echo to the delicate thought it expressed; one moment of impressive universal silence followed, broken at length by a soft chorus of female sighs, and in one or two instances by that sort of blowing by the nose which accompanies weeping.

"I ask no stronger proof of the power of this transatlantic genius," said the critic, throwing up his arms as in triumph, "than its effect on such an audience as this. I would reject the judgment of the merely learned, I would reject too the judgment of mere natural feeling, unrefined by an acquaintance with the thrilling literature of the day. But here we have hearts and minds precisely in the state best qualified to pass sentence on the productions of intellect. In truth, I mark it as one of the most promising features in the intellectual aspect of the eventful epoch in which we live, that its literature, however soaring, or however profound, is not of the dry hard nature that tends to indurate our hearts against the passions which constitute the lifeblood of existence. Out on the doctrines of the heavy icebergs, who would make us believe that passion leads to sin! Rather would I, that the green sod should instantly be heaped upon this heaving breast, and crush it at once into eternal sleep, than live with the sparkling current of my blood restrained by precept !-Women !-waxlights!-wine!" he continued, as his widely-opened roving eye fixed itself on a tray containing sundry decanters, sandwiches, and tartlets, which (if a literary dinner had not preceded the evening coterie) always appeared at rather an early hour. "These form the atmosphere in which man loves to live!"

"You shall not move, Marchmont !" exclaimed Mrs. Gibson, starting from her reclining posture, and laying her hand upon the great man's arms, "I never like you so well as when you are lounging upon this dear sofa. Why have table-castors, but to run? Push that table over, some of you. There's dear creatures! Almeria! step after William, and tell him to bring the liqueur-chest and hot water. not know your wants and wishes, Marchmont ?"

"And do you not know how to spoil me, Mrs. Gibson?"

Do I

"How is it possible to pet you beyond your deserts, while you minister to our enjoyments as you have done this evening? But tell me, dear friend, is it beyond reach of hope that we should see this gifted Pendergrass here? I have no words to tell how I should feel at beholding the author of those heart-searching words,

' and innocent sighs,

Such as babes breathe upon a mother's breast.'

The purity-the elevation of thought-the sweet simplicity-the ineffable tenderness, all combine to lap the spirits in elysium!"

"And is not that about celestial ecstasy' very fine, mamma?" said Almeria, in a soft murmur, seemingly intended only for her mother's

ear.

Admirable, my love. Sit down Mrs. Bates. Sit down Miss Fortingale. Mr. Embsby, you can find a corner there by Almeria. The Marvel must not be separated from the Marchmont. They are flint

and steel to each other. Oh! there is more room yet at this dear little table! It is positively elastic, and has an especial propensity to stretch itself at the approach of talent."

“Does it shrink, mamma, before the want of it?" said Marianne, rising. "At any rate there is no room for me," and so saying, she took up the shaded stand which held her two waxlights, and walked off.

Meanwhile such of the party as modestly deemed themselves not sufficiently gifted to produce a favourable effect upon the elastic table, silently withdrew themselves to the other room; and some others edged in the corner of a chair, and one leg, in order to show that they were of those for whom the little sentient table was sure to be large enough. Poor Charles alone seemed at a loss to know where to go, or what he ought to do. The effort of walking from the corner wherein he had hitherto stood ensconced, and passing conspicuously round the bright constellation which surrounded the magic table, was greatly too much for his courage; yet to stay and listen, unlicensed, to all the wit and wisdom about to flash in rapid coruscations from the stars which formed it, was not to be thought of! His conscience told him that in acting thus, he should be little better than a thief, who, "from a shelf the precious diadem stole, and put it in his pocket." His embarrassment was most painful, and gladly would he at that moment have exchanged all the glories of Mrs. Gibson's back drawing-room, for a seat on the bank of turf in the orchard at Maplebury, beside his own little humble worshipper, Bessy.

Whether his shyness or his honour would have got the better in this struggle had it been continued, can never be known; for Marchmont on accidentally turning his head, perceived him and immediately put an end to it, by saying,

"My dear friend, you have forgotten our young stranger! Now then, put your table to the proof, and bid it stretch itself to make room for him."

This command was instantly obeyed; and with the more promptitude, perhaps, because it was quite out of the common way for Mr. Marchmont, while enjoying the petting of which he had boasted, to give himself any trouble about the accommodation of others; his sagacious friend therefore immediately suspected that her favourite had some especial reason for this remarkable condescension. Nor was she in any degree mistaken.

Marchmont, while his eye seemed directed only towards Marvel, had not failed to observe the ardent, eager, admiring gaze of the young head, peeping from behind him. It was precisely the expression he loved best to see in those who listened to him. Moreover, he had not forgotten that the youth had been presented to him as one vehemently desirous of seeing himself in print, and likewise as being blessed with friends and protectors whose names seemed to promise profitable patronage.

Charles Chesterfield, therefore, not only found himself honoured beyond the reach of hope, by obtaining a seat near the elastic table, but was asked to drink wine by Mr. Marchmont himself, and more than once felt the great man's eagle glance upon him, as he listened to the wonders of his eloquence.

CHAP. VII.

A TETE-A-TETE, AND ITS

RESULT-CHARLES

MANLY AND INDEPENDENT.

CHESTERFIELD GROWS

ACCORDING to the general invitation, or rather order, which he had received, Charles Chesterfield made his appearance very punctually at Sir George Meddows's breakfast-table on the following morning. Miss Meddows was the only one of the family who had as yet entered it, and she received the young man's bashful salutation with more condescension and civility than she had yet shown him. She even put aside the book she was reading, as if to converse with him. But though he saw this, and felt quite certain that he ought to say something, he could not manage it. No single word occurred to him, that he thought proper and fitting for the occasion; and he therefore stood before her, blushing like a rosebud, and as silent as the tomb.

This was not what the young lady intended; and she therefore, after desiring him to seat himself, addressed him with a smile of so much sweetness, that could he have been left alone the moment after, with pen, ink, and paper, it is probable he would have produced something or other, upon lips and eyes, more spirited than all he had ever written on these inspiring subjects before. But it was many minutes before all this gentle condescension produced on Charles the effect intended; or, in other words, it was long before the young man dared trust his nerves with the sound of his own voice.

At length, however, upon Clara's asking him if he still thought he should find any thing in the gloomy streets of London, to atone for the pure air and green fields he had left behind, such an effect followed, as showed she had touched that point in his character, where the shyness of rustic breeding was overpowered by a stronger feeling. It was like finding at last the secret spring by whose agency alone some hidden treasure can be brought to view, when, after in vain touching here, and pressing there, the right spot being found at last, out starts the hoarded wealth before the seeker's eyes.

"Alone!" reiterated Charles, totally unconscious of the freedom required to justify such an echo-like mode of colloquy. "Miss Meddows! Should I ever be driven to consider the country, its blue sky, and its green fields, its scented blossoms-which in truth I fondly love and its balmy air, should I, Miss Meddows, be ever forced to consider these as blessings only to be enjoyed by sacrificing those which have already opened before me in London, I should learn to tremble at their name, and shudder at every idle image of rural beauty which memory might suggest."

Not only the words, but the manner of this vehement speech, startled the young lady considerably. The countenance of Charles Chesterfield, though as yet a little too blooming in its sunny freshness to suggest any idea of great refinement, was, nevertheless, exceedingly handsome. Though with no pretensions whatever to be accounted as one of those "sublime sort of Newton-faced men" for whom some ladies are inclined to feel a decided partiality, he had fine regular features, and, better still, considerable power of expression; so that when looking at him, as Clara Meddows did at that moment, while his whole soul was in his eyes, and the most genuine enthusiasm animating his countenance,

it was impossible not to acknowledge that he was both handsome and intelligent. She felt surprised, and probably looked so; for without quite losing the animation which had for a while so completely overthrown his timidity, he added, "Forgive me, Miss Meddows! I did not mean to frighten you by the impetuous expression of my feelings, and nothing but the great kindness of your manner could have led me to express them at all. It is difficult, I believe, amidst circumstances so very new as those in which I find myself, to speak of one's real feelings without falling into this error."

"Sincerity can never be an error, Mr. Chesterfield," she replied, "but I should betray the want of it, did I not confess that I still feel doubtful of the wisdom of your preference of the town to the country."

"I, too, love sincerity, Miss Meddows," he rejoined, very ingenuously, "and it is for that very reason that I own so freely the preference I avow. It seems to myself almost unnatural that a few, a very few hours, spent with a man of extraordinary intellect, should make me feel for him as I do. I would rather cultivate this man's society, though the doing so should contemn me to find my home where I could never see the sun, than be debarred from association and fellowship with him and his, though I should gain thereby the brightest heaven and the purest air that God ever gave to man."

All this, though uttered very rapidly, was not got through without abundance of blushes, and such vehement palpitation of the heart as he had never felt before. "Whether for good or for evil," thought Clara, "it is clear that this poor youth is destined to fret his hour upon the stage to which my father has transported him! Can it be," and the idea brought with it such pleasure as made her eagerly cherish it,-" can it be that in this business I have mistrusted my poor father wrongfully? Can it be that, having no such vile thoughts as I suspected, he has seen in this boy that which I see now? If so, he may have been led solely by his habitual love of speculation to invite him hither, in the belief that he really had talents which might push their way to fortune."

For the moment which it took for these meditations to pass through the active brain of Clara, her companion remained with his eyes almost unconsciously fixed on her face; for, as her own bright glances were for the interval settled upon the carpet, he was so far enabled to forget himself and his timidity as to look steadily at her, which, in truth, he had never done before, having ever turned his own eyes from encountering hers, with the startled shyness of a young leveret, who bounds away in terror the instant he encounters a human glance.

But now that at last he did really venture to contemplate her face, wonder seemed to conquer fear, and a feeling made up of curiosity and admiration, caused him to speculate as he gazed upon the possibility of approaching to such a degree of acquaintance with her as might enable him to submit to the "divine intelligence" he read upon her brow, the outpouring of his muse. The sudden start which her looking up occasioned, might have convinced her, had she thought about it, that his revery had been as active as her own; but the new, and very pleasant view which she had now taken of the young man's sudden introduction to the family, made her too anxious to atone to her father, in the person of his guest, for the evil thoughts with which she charged herself, to permit her to remark it, and with still increased friendliness of