a point upon which I never thought myself entitled to enquire," she replied, drawing herself proudly up, and speaking in a tone not to be misunderstood.

Lord Osborne looked at her with surprise, which was gradually converted into admiration at the beautiful effect of the colour which dyed her cheek as she spoke. An idea crossed his mind that, perhaps, he had not been sufficiently civil, and he tried to soften his voice, and put on a more winning manner.

"The hounds meet next Monday about a mile from here, at Upham—will you not come and see them throw off. It's a pretty sight."

"I do not think it will be in my power, my lord."

"I wish you could—did you ever see it?"

"Never."

"Well, you cannot imagine how gay it is; we have such a capital breakfast always at Upham Lodge; then the scarlet coats round the edge of the cover; the horses—the talking and laughing, the ladies who drive over to see us—though I often think them rather a bore—then the great burst when the dogs do find; and off they go away, and we after them, and forget every thing in the world, except one wish, to be in at the death. You cannot think how exciting it is. Do come."

"Thank you, my lord; but I must be satisfied with your description. I cannot accept your invitation."

"Perhaps you are afraid of the cold; my sister caught a dreadful cold one day, when she came in an open carriage, and it was wet; are you thinking of that?"

"No, for I did not know it before."

"Didn't you? She was ill a month; I was monstrous sorry for her—for you see it was partly my fault; I persuaded her to come; I don't know how it is. I rather like to have her with me—some men don't."

Emma could hardly suppress a smile at this eloquent demonstration of his fraternal affection. She began, however, to think that if Lord Osborne liked his sister there might be some good in him; which, before, she had been inclined to question. The gentlemen sat long, although Tom Musgrove, at least, must have been perfectly aware that he was encroaching on their dinner hour; and Emma was growing exceedingly weary of the looks of Lord Osborne, who sunk into repeated fits of silence, which were interrupted by abrupt and disconnected questions or observations. At length, they were all roused by the maid servant, who, putting her head into the half-opened door-way, called out:

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