and he had no intention of being precipitate,
found himself more than once on the brink of
asking the question which would decide both
their fortunes.

"You would not mind spending your life in
the country, Polly, little town-bred lady as you
are?" said he, gaily.

"I like the country best," replied Polly.

"When you come to us at Midsummer, I
shall have Stella ready, and you shall learn to
ride—all the girls ride hereabouts."

"But they ride from children. I am rather
timid; I am not sure that I shall like it."

"I shall teach you myself," said Bob, as if
that would remove all difficulties, and he
glanced down at the little creature beside him
with fond admiration. None of her friends'
opinions of Polly had yet grown up to her own
estimate of her dignity—not even Bob's. He
laughed indulgently at her practical airs, and
called her his Mouse and his Blossom, with a
tender patronage that she could not repress,
though she sincerely wished to do so. It
seemed to Polly sometimes as if his will were
the stronger, and controlled hers, however she
fought against it; and that was the fact. Bob
was not a particularly profound person, but he
perfectly fathomed Polly's mixture of pride
and shyness, lovingness, doubt, fear, and
trembling towards himself, and he believed it quite
in his duty and business to tame her with
kindness, yet firmness—much as he was taming his
beautiful shy filly, Stella; as for letting her go
her own way, or supposing she would defeat
him in the end, it never entered Bob's head;
and had her mother's warnings and philosophy
been laid before him, they would have been far
too strange and unnatural for his honest
comprehension. He religiously believed that every
nice young woman wished to be married, and
why not Polly, who was so extremely nice?

The drive to Lanswood was very pleasant all
the way, and when Polly was left behind at the
Warden House, to think it over, she could not
but know why it had been so. Love is the
best of companions. "Dear old Bob, I'm
afraid I should grow foolishly fond of him if I
went often to Blackthorn Grange. I had much
better stop away at Midsummer," said she, to
herself; but perhaps she did not mean it. She
was rather dull and absent for a day or two,
but she soon brightened up at her work, which
was not severe or disagreeable. In truth, her
situation was very comfortable, and she had no
injuries or hardships to make the notion of
escape welcome; but still she counted the
weeks to the holidays, and did not grieve to see
them pass. And in every letter Maggie told her
how much nearer Midsummer was, and
mentioned many delightful parties of pleasure and
excursions which were standing over until her
coming. At every such allusion Polly's heart
underwent that physical spasm which she had
described to her friend as afflicting her before
she set forth on her career as a governess. To
go or not to go to the Grange became her
thought by day and night. She was pulled
very hard both ways. She did not deny to
herself that the Grange was a happy place for a
holiday; but her principles of so many years'
careful home cultivation were in peril there,
while her head still approved of them so
entirely that she felt it was inconsistent and
wrong to walk into temptation with her eyes
open and her judgment unobscured. Nobody
at the Grange denounced marriage as a state
of suffering bondage, or children as a
perpetual care; indeed, Laura and Fanny were
both engaged, and Maggie, though not so far
gone as they were, frankly avowed that she had
only refused the curate because she did not
like him; if she had liked him she should have
had no scruple about accepting his proposal,
and taking her luck for what might follow.

Polly had no notion of casting her burden on
other people's shoulders, or she might have
appealed to Jane for counsel in the case;
besides, she was fond of deciding for herself, or
rather of drifting into decisions which were
generally in accordance with her inclinations,
secret or expressed. In this manner she
drifted into a decision that she would go to
Blackthorn Grange, but it should be for the
last time; and a few days after, there she was,
in all her pretty dignity and grace, and everybody
in and about the house was talking about her
and the master, and drawing only one conclusion
from this third visit within the half-year.

FAREWELL SERIES OF READINGS

BY

MR. CHARLES DICKENS.

MESSRS. CHAPPELL AND Co. beg to announce
that, knowing it to be the determination of MR.
DICKENS finally to retire from Public Reading soon
after his return from America, they (as having been
honoured with his confidence on previous occasions)
made proposals to him while he was still in the
United States achieving his recent brilliant successes
there, for a final FAREWELL SERIES OF READINGS in
this country. Their proposals were at once accepted
by MR. DICKENS, in a manner highly gratifying to
them.

The Series will commence in the ensuing autumn,
and will comprehend, besides London, some of the
chief towns in England, Ireland, and Scotland.
It is scarcely necessary for MESSRS. CHAPPELL AND
Co. to add that any announcement made in connexion
with these FAREWELL READINGS will be strictly
adhered to, and considered final; and that on no
consideration whatever will MR. DICKENS be induced to
appoint an extra night in any place in which he
shall have been once announced to read for the last
time.

All communications to be addressed to MESSRS.
CHAPPELL AND Co., 50, New Bond-street, London, W.

On the 12th instant was published, bound in cloth,
price 5s. 6d.

THE NINETEENTH VOLUME.