OR WHICH WILL HE WED? 315 



round the park, in his phaeton — his last new phaeton, with his 

 pair of greys from Tattersall's ; he could have shown her the 

 Abbey in so many picturesque points — it was vexatious — more 

 than vexatious. Melville and his lady were sufficient for each 

 other, they wanted no society — but he — he was like a " dove in a 

 wilderness, without one to commune with" — and, with a sense of 

 extreme misanthropy, this whiskered "dove in a tvil derness" hent 

 over the rustic palings of the wooden bridge, and endeavoured 

 to beguile himself by strewing willow leaves in the deep sparkling 

 stream. He had thrown his hat, peevishly, upon the ground, 

 and the breeze revelled at will with the rich locks of sunny 

 auburn with which nature had invested his head : an air of dis- 

 appointment, impatience, and abstraction, by turns reigned upon 

 his handsome features, and as his quick eye roved from the silent 

 waters beneath his feet, to the wooded hills, the solemn shades, 

 and the deep-blue snatches of the far stretched country that, 

 ever and anon, stole on the sight like scattered sapphires in a 

 chain of emeralds, he might have afforded the materiel of a 

 graphic sketch of infinite spirit and grandeur. Of whatever 

 paramount importance they might be upon other occasions, the 

 personal attractions of the Captain at this moment gave him but 

 trifling solicitude ; a lazy and solitary duck, dozing amidst lilies 

 and bulrushes, upon the waves, and heaving to and fro with their 

 slight notion ; a cow of Cuypish appearance, ruminating at some 

 little distance, and gazing upon the military anchoret ; and an un- 

 conscious fawn, afar off, cropping the fresh herbage in a dewy 

 glade, were the only animate objects within view. At least he 

 thought so, until something struck softly upon his cheek, and fell 

 into the water; his eye readily followed the descent of the 

 missile, to determine its nature, — it was a half-blown rose that 

 alighting upon the back of the comatose fowl, awoke it from its 

 slumbers, and sent it paddling and splashing among the reeds. 

 This point ascertained, a second glance went in quest of the 

 hand from which this odoriferous shot was discharged : no person 

 was near, the willows alone hung pendent by the stream, and the 

 alders and elms rustled their leaves, innocently, in the air. Henry 

 was confounded ; " Melville cannot be so boyish, and Mrs. 

 Atherstone would not amuse herself thus," pondered the hero, as 

 he again reconnoitred the trees, amidst which he presumed that 

 the invader was hidden : the boughs of a hazel-bush bent sud- 

 denly — pshaw! a redbreast had just flitted from its retreat — 

 stay — " by heaven ! it is herself," exclaimed the Captain, as he 

 discerned a pair of large eyes, whose brilliancy discovered 

 their owner, peering at him through the green leaves, and the 

 next instant, looking the very deity of fashion. Lady Eleanor, 

 wrapped in a superb Cashmere, with a capote evidently from the 

 hand of Herbaut, emerged slowly from the shade. Henry was 

 puzzled at her appearance, having conceived that the indolent 

 fair one, bound in the light chains of slumber, was dreaming of 

 NO. V. 2t 



