Our travellers had proceeded a few miles when Deborah thought she might give Ellen the pacque t with which she had been entrusted, without violating the letter of Mr. Redwood's direction. Her surprise surpassed Ellen's when she beheld its contents. She begged her to read the letter aloud.-Ellen read it with a trembling voice. "The Lord bless his dear heart!" exclaimed Deborah.

"Oh Ellen, I wish he had you for his child, instead of that; never mind, I'll overlook her for the sake of her father-count the money, girl, count it, you can't," she added, looking at Ellen, whose eyes were overflowing, "give it to me: my sight is rather dull too," and she dashed off the tears that clouded her vision, "five hundred is it! you are rich, you are an heiress, Ellen."

"I am indeed,” replied Ellen, "rich in kind friends, but this money, Miss Deborah, must be returned."

"Returned!" echoed Debby; "why, you would not be such a born fool, girl? a thirsty man might as well pour back a draught he had taken from a fountain. No, no, Ellen, when the rich give, let the poor receive and be thankful: that is always encouragement to them to go on. Returned, indeed! it would be a slighting o' providence to return it, Ellen-quite out of all reason and natur. Just like one of Mrs. Harrison's superstitious highflown notions."

It was impossible for Ellen to communicate all

the motives that led her to decline a pecuniary favour from Miss Redwood's father; but she suggested reasons which she thought would appeal to her companion's characteristic independence. The veteran maiden opposed them all-she had advanced into the cold climate of worldly prudence. but Ellen was at that age when sentiment controls interest. In vain Debby continued her remonstrances. Ellen, heedless of them all, wrote with a pencil an affecting expression of her gratitude on the envelope of the pacquet, and reversing it, she directed it to Mr. Redwood, intending to procure at the next village a trusty person to re-convey it to Eton.

The travellers had just reached a small brook which intercepted the road: there was a bridge over it, and a road by the side of the bridge by which passengers descended to the brook for the purpose of watering their horses. Deborah thought it was time to perform that kind office for her steed; she alighted to arrange the bridle, and desiring Ellen to drive through the stream, said she would herself walk up the hill on the other side. The passage to the brook was shaded and hidden by thick clumps of willow trees. As Ellen reined her horse into the narrow way, she encountered Westall who had gone out on horseback for a morning ride.

"Miss Bruce, is it possible?" he exclaimed, with a tone and expression of delight that changed

instantly on noticing her riding dress, and other indications of travelling. "Where," he continued,

are you going; what can be the reason of your sudden departure?"

Ellen communicated as briefly as possible the object of her journey, and the place of her destination. In the mean time the poor beast quite at a loss to account for the restraint put upon his movements, and not a whit inclined to play Tantalus in full view of the pure tempting rivulet, threw up his head, pawed the dust, and showed all the signs of impatience common on such occasions. Ellen, usually sufficiently accomplished in the art of driving, now, from some cause or other, seemed as maladroit as most women: she pulled the wrong rein, and was, or Westall thought she was, in imminent danger of an overturn. He dismounted from his horse, and springing into the chaise beside her, took upon himself the conduct of affairs. He then, with laudable discretion, permitted the animal to drink, and drove him to the opposite bank, before the conversation was renewed. As he paused there, Ellen said, with the best voice she could command, "I thank you for your assistance; I must proceed now-Deborah waits for me."

"For heaven's sake!" he replied, "let her wait-I cannot, I will not part with you, till I have laid open my heart to you."

"It is unnecessary, I already have heard from Mr. Redwood what you would say," replied Ellen, confused, and shrinking from the communication,

which her conversation with Mr. Redwood the preceding evening led her to anticipate.

"From Mr. Redwood?" exclaimed Westall, "impossible! has he then read my soul?"

"Not he, but his daughter," answered Ellen.

"His daughter!" reiterated Westall, and was proceeding to entreat Ellen to explain herself, when they were both startled by a hoarse and impatient call from Deborah, who was evidently drawing near to them with rapid strides.

"Ellen!" she screamed, "Ellen Bruce, you'll founder the horse; drive out of the brook, girl, if he has not drank it dry already."

The lovers were too much confounded to make any reply, and Deborah, apprehending some fatal disaster to Ellen, doubled her speed, and darting into the path that led to the watering place, quickly arrived in full view of the objects of her search and alarm. There is, to the best natured, something irresistibly provoking in the apparent iranquillity of those who have produced within them all the tumult of anxiety. Deborah, at a single glance, ascertained the safety of Ellen, and of the horse, and approaching the latter, she patted him, saying, "I think you have the most sense of the three; if you had not been dumb, poor beast, you would not have let me run the breath out of my body without answering me a word."

Charles Westall, though his mind was on other thoughts intent, could not but smile at

the indirect reproach of Debby which their truly lover-like forgetfulness of her and of every thing else so justly merited. "Forgive me, Miss Deborah," he said, springing from the chaise, “your horse was restive, and I assumed your seat to aid Miss Bruce, who was quite unequal to managing him."

"You are a great manager, truly," replied Deborah, half smiling and half vexed; "the beast seems as quiet now as you could wish him. Is it your will and pleasure, Miss Ellen, to proceed ?” "Certainly," replied Ellen.

"Well come, Mr. Westall," continued Deborah, whose heat of body and mind had already subsided,

we won't part in anger-young folks must be young folks. Farewell, and a long and a happy life to you."

"Stay one moment Miss Deborah, I have a favour to beg-I have something to say to Miss Bruce. Miss Bruce," he added, turning to Ellen, "I entreat you to grant me a few moments-it may be the last favour I shall ever ask of you— Miss Deborah will drive slowly up the hill-the path is shaded from the morning sun-you will not find the walk unpleasant"

"You forget, young man," interposed Debby, "which way the sun shines this morning; when 1 came down the road, it was hot enough to boil al! the blood in my veins"

"Ellen," continued Westall, eagerness Deborah's cross-cut, deny me this favour."

1

unheeding in his

"do not-do not