honour of attending your father and yourself, Miss Powis, in the evening." Then slightly bowing to Mrs. Ross, he departed. "Good lack, good lack," said Mrs. Ross, who, awed by his manner, had been silent a moment, "what a dainty speech! The honour of attending Miss Powis! well, what will this world come to! Why, Ellen, child, you are spoilt for a farmer's wife, and will soon begin to fancy yourself a lady indeed." Ellen, whose spirits were now totally subdued, wept bitterly, and said, "I am sure, Madam, I do not know how I have deserved to be treated thus." Softened by her distress, for with all her sharpness, Mrs. Ross loved Ellen, and really had her welfare at heart, she began to relent, and said more softly, "Why now, Ellen, child, hear me. Do you think it is right or creditable for a young girl like you to be constantly receiving the visits of such a man as Mr. Mordaunt? Tell me, Ellen, will he make you his wife?" This was a question Ellen had never dared to ask herself. In the beautiful language of Shakespeare, which Mordaunt had lately given her, and with which she was so enchanted, she often allowed herself only three hours sleep in a night, that she might find time to read, she had often repeated to herself-- ---- It were all one, That I should love a bright particular star, And think to wed it: he is so above me; In his bright radiance, and collateral light Must I be comforted, not in his sphere. This question from Mrs. Ross, therefore, struck her heart with a pang of unutterable anguish, and she felt almost dying, while she owned, that so far from offering her his hand, Mordaunt had never spoken one word of love to her. Mrs. Ross, however, was rather pleased at the latter part of this confession, for she began to fear worse for the innocent and guileless Ellen than the capture of her heart; that, she had no doubt, might soon be retrieved when Mordaunt quitted the country, and Ellen could have no farther acquaintance with him; but she had begun to fear that his views were such as might involve Ellen in infamy, as well as misfortune: these fears, however, she had feeling enough to conceal from their object, and only dwelt upon the trouble she was preparing for herself, by giving so much of her time and regard to a man who, it evidently appeared, had no thoughts of her. In vain did Ellen murmur the word "Friendship," and faintly protest neither Mordaunt nor herself had the least idea of any thing beyond. Mrs. Ross, though her knowledge of the world was not extensive, knew enough to be convinced of the fallacy of such pretensions, and she ceased not till she drew from the dejected Ellen a promise to see less of Mordaunt, and to regain, as speedily as possible, her former mode of life. "And let me, Ellen, also, see you looking blooming and merry again," said she. "I wish, with all my heart, this man had never found his way to Llanwyllan: you used to be active,