million of miles across, no man has yet
ventured an opinion which is able to satisfy the
judgment of mankind.

TWO COLLEGE FRIENDS.

IN FOUR CHAPTERS.—CHAPTER III.

WINNINGTON'S visits to the manor grew
more constant as the day of his departure
drew near. Early in the morning he passed
through the village, and entered the dilapidated
house, and only issued from it again,
accompanied by Ellen, to pursue their
botanical pursuits upon the hills. Had he
ever told her of any other pursuit in which
he was engaged? Had he gone in a formal
manner, as recommended in the True
Lover's Guide, to the father, and demanded
his permission to pay his addresses to his
daughter ? Had he displayed to that careful
gentleman the state of his affairs, and agreed
on the sum to be settled during the marriage
upon Ellen as pin-money, and as jointure in
case of his death? No; he had never
mentioned the state of his heart to Ellen, or of
his affairs to Mr. Warleigh. He had spoken,
to be sure, a good deal about the future; his
plans when he had taken his degree; the
very street he should live in when he entered
into practice, and somehow all these projects
had reference to some one else. He never
seemed to limit the view to himself; but in
all his counsellings about the years to come,
he was like the editor of a newspaper, or the
writer of a ponderous history, and used the
dignified "we; " We shall have such a pretty
little drawing-room, with a great many roses
on the paper, a splendid mirror over the mantel-
piece, and a piano, such a piano! against
the wall. Who was included in the We?
Ah! that was a secret between him and
Ellen: and I am not going to play the spy, and
then let all the world know what I have
discovered. It seemed as if the father was
included too; for there was a charming little
room laid aside for a third individual, with a
nice low fender and a nice warm fire, and a
nice pipe laid all ready for him after dinner,
and some delicious tobacco procured from a
patient of Winnington, a distinguished
merchant in the Turkey trade, and kept in
a beautiful bag of blue silk, which Ellen had
sewed up with her own hands, with gold
tassels, astonishing to behold.

"And we must have a spare bed-room," he
said; " it needn't be very large for my sister—
she's not very tall yet, and a little crib would
do."

"But Dulcibel will grow," said Ellen;
"she's now seven, and by the time she
requires the room, she will be—who can tell
how old she will be then, Winnington ? "

"I can. She will be ten at most."

"I think," said Mr. Warleigh, "you had
better bring her here: we can get Joe
Walters to patch up another room; and, with
a prop or two under the floor, even the ballroom
might be safe to occupy."

"O! no, father: the floor is entirely
fallen in; and, besides, the ceiling is just
coming down."

"And London is such a noble field for
exertion," said Winnington; "and if I have
a chance, I will so work and toil, and write
and make myself known, that I shall be
disappointed if I am not a baronet in ten years—
Sir Winnington Harvey, Bart."

"A very modern title," said Mr. Warleigh,
"which I hope no one I care for will ever
condescend to accept. My ancestors had
been knights of Combe-Warleigh for six
hundred years before baronetcies were heard
of; besides, as those pinchbeck baronies are
only given to millionnaires, where are you
to get a fortune sufficient to support the
dignity?"

A sudden flush came to Winnington's face.
"I should like to owe everything to you,
sir; and, perhaps—perhaps, there will be
enough for any rank the king can give."

"It strikes me," said Mr. Warleigh, with a
laugh, "you are a great deal more hopeful
even than I was at your time of life. Ah! I
remember what day-dreams we had, Ellen's
mother and I—how we expected to restore
the old name, and build up the old house—"

"I'll do both, sir!" cried Winnington,
standing up. "I feel sure there is a way of
doing so; I have thought much over this for
a week past, and before I go I'll prove to
you— "

"What? Has a ghost come from the grave
to point out some hidden treasure?"

Winnington was still standing up in the
excitement of the new idea which filled his
heart. He was just going to reply, when a
sudden crash alarmed them. Ellen screamed,
and fled to Winnington for safety. The sound
shook the whole house. At first they thought
some of the outer wall had tumbled down.
A cloud of dust soon filled the room, and
nearly blinded them.

"It is the ball-room ceiling," said Mr.
Warleigh, as if struck with the omen. "The
house is ruined beyond repair, and sometime
or other will bury us all in its fall. Young
man, I advise you to get out of its way; for it
will crush whatever stands near it."

The interruption gave Winnington time to
think, and he resolved not to make Mr.
Warleigh the confidant of his hopes. That night
he took his leave. It was the last night of
his residence in the rectory, but he was to
return next short vacation. The parting was
long, and it was late when he got home.
Arthur was busy writing. He had given up
his geology for the last week, and seldom
moved out of the house; he looked up as
Winnington came in, but said nothing in
welcome.

"I'm glad to find you up," said Winnington,
"for I want to talk to you, Arthur, and take
your advice, if you are not busy."

Arthur laid aside the pen, and covered the
sheet he was writing with blotting-paper.