heard a voice beside me that sounded familiar.
It was the voice of Twist, the younger, my
companion of last night. He was getting a
Bohemiann goblet filled for some one, and
brought it presently to a tall young person
in the favourite hat of the period. They
whispered together in a mysterious manner.
She was evidently not devoid of personal
charms. He espied me in an instant, and
came over to wring me cordially by the
hand.

"Did you see?" said the infatuated youth,
"is she not a queen, an empress? She is
gone, now, to walk with her parents. That
is Major Mildboy, with the grizzly moustache.
A most distinguished person, I can assure
you; resident here for many years; most
useful for you to know. Mrs. Mildboy is
with him. But, mum," added the youth
mysteriously, "they know nothing of what
is going on: not a syllable. A high-souled
veteran and of the nicest honour!"

It was impossible not to feel interested in
the simple enthusiasm of this honest young
lover. Had I not loved, myself: and was I
to chill, with cold sneers, this generous
candour? I dismissed the cold sneer, and gave
the youth a pleasing smile instead.

"Is she not fit mate for the highest in the
land?" said he.

"She might have walked for Dian's own
portrait," I replied, drawn insensibly into the
boy's enthusiasm.

She was certainly tall; indeed, about the
tallest person of her age and sex I recollect
meeting in the short span of my existence.
It seemed to me that I never saw so surprising
a length of limb. They were approaching
as he spoke; and I noticed the worn, grizzled
aspect of the veteran who had fought in
many fields. There was an inexpressible
attraction in this worn look of a gallant
defender of a country.

"You must be introduced to them,"
whispered young Twist, in agitated tones. The
ceremony was performed forthwith.

We walked up and down together many
times, tall Emilia Matilda and Adolphus
Twist dropping insensibly behind. I was
entertained with the pleasant converse of
Captain Mildboy, who spoke in that grave
tone which a man who has seen much of the
world and its troubles gradually comes to
assume. He was so good as to etch out for
me, in his grand stately manner (there might
have been a cordon-bleu hung to his button,
his tones so fitted that decoration,) most of
the characters then sojourning in the town.
That tall, venerable gentleman, who stooped
so much, was, indeed, General Bulstock,
K.C.B., who had married last year—well,
this was the story, at any rate—the daughter
of an innkeeper: that young person by
his side. Poor old Bulstock! His friends
had always said he would make a fool of
himself. Katzer said he would not last six
months. Look at his feeble eye! That was
young Lord Shalot, talking so earnestly to
the innkeeper's daughter. That short, fat,
flashy woman, who stepped out so boldly, was
Mrs. Melmor Smith. Heaven only knew where
was Melmor Smith; he is alive, yet no one
has ever seen him. She came every year to
drink the waters. That man with the shambling
walk was Dowling Jones, so well known
upon town; but who was afflicted with all
manner of infirmities. Between ourselves, he
had lived too fast, and was trying to get back
strength: but it wouldn't do at his time of
life. "Was I in the law?" Captain Mildboy
asked. I blushed. My ecclesiastical marriage
garment was not about my slender throat.
I had wished, if possible, to suppress such
evidence of the holy calling.

"In the Church!" said Captain Mildboy,
with a start. "In orders!—are you serious?
What a strange coincidence!" He turned
back and waited for the whispering lovers
to come up.

"Our friend Mr. Hoblush," he said, "tells
me he is in orders: in full orders! How
curious!"

The youthful pair started; their eyes
wandered to each other's faces; and I
observed Miss Mildboy's large eyes fixed on
me with extraordinary interest.

"The English chaplain of this town," said
Captain Mildboy, in serious tones, ("a most
objectionable person, by the way, who was
scarcely on speaking terms with any of his
congregation), is about resigning his cure
here. The fact is, the committee have so
pressed it on him, that he has no
alternative."

I saw Emilia Matilda Mildboy's large eyes
fixed upon me with a strange interest, and there
floated from out of her ruby mouth a gentle
murmur, that appeared to take the shape of—
"Clergyman .  .  . of .  .  . Established .  .  .
Church?" I was of that Communion, I
replied. Would my stay in this pleasing
watering-place be long? I replied, gloomily
and abstractedly, that it would depend upon
circumstances. Because, if I was so disposed,
he was on the Committee, and the vacant
Chaplaincy—.

It was tempting. I would consider of
it. "Do promise, now, at once and for
ever," seemed to say the strange eyes of
Emilia Matilda. Ox-eyed, indeed, was she,
according to the strange epithet in Homer.
Bo-opis! the Ox-eyed Emilia! Was it,
indeed, that my tale of sorrow was written
so outspeakingly on my sad lineaments, and
that this mysterious being had read-off the
characters truly? Had I instinctively found
a breast which beat responsively to mine?
Dreams, dreams, day-dreams all, foolish
Hoblush! Let the dead past bury its own
dead!

The musical gentlemen played away through
the frost, which must have come with peculiar
gratefulness, to the fiddling interest, whose
fingers had to draw, with painful pressure,