Grace in a few minutes re-entered with the bonnet and veil, and with the most busy solicitude assisted to array her sister.

"You had better take your parasol too, Maria, the sun is quite scorching;" and away she flew again in search of the latter article.

66

Now, Sir, we are quite ready, if you please."

Sir Walter turned hastily round at the sweet accents of her voice.

"But you go with us, do you not?" he demanded, observing that she had made no preparations for the walk herself.

"Oh, yes, certainly; that is, if mamma does not want me," she added, looking timidly at her mother.

Mrs. Woodford was acute enough to have discovered by this time, that it would not be politic to let Sir Walter see so clearly her bias towards her favourite. It was evident, already, that he was disposed to view Grace with considerable interest, and that it would increase it by letting her appear in his eyes oppressed and injured, she could have little doubt, after the recent specimen she had seen of his disposition; with a graciousness of manner, totally unknown, hitherto, and now quite incomprehensible to Grace, she replied. "No, my dear, I do not wish to detain you from what I know will give you pleasure."

For a moment, Grace stood as if bewildered.

It could not possibly be her, whom her mother addressed, but she looked at her, and she could no longer doubt, for Mrs. Woodford, conscious her visitor's eyes were upon her, actually relaxed her features into a look of kindness, suitable to her words.

Grace's pale cheeks flushed with surprise and pleasure, the big tears started to her eyes, and darting hastily towards her, she threw herself upon her mother's neck.

"What does the foolish girl mean?" exclaimed the latter; Sir Walter looked at Grace for an instant with visible emotion, and then led Maria from the room.

"Pray let us have no more of this fine feeling," said Mrs. Woodford, the moment he was out of sight, repulsing the affectionate girl; "look how you have rumpled my lace frill."

Grace retreated, her countenance expressing the deepest disappointment; but as she was quitting the room, her mother called her back.

"Do not let me see any of your artful tricks, to get in favour with Sir Walter, miss;" she observed, "for I assure you, if I see any attempts to put yourself before your sister, I will at once put a stop to it, and make you bitterly repent it, and so now you may go as soon as you please."

Instead of bounding away, as was her usual habit, when released from her mother's presence, Grace walked leisurely and reflectively along, meditating on the words the latter had last uttered, nor did she see, until she was close to them, that Sir Walter and Maria were waiting for her a few yards from the house.

The keen eye of the baronet rested inquisitively on her countenance, but her mother's insinuation and threat were fresh on her mind, and without noticing him, she placed herself by her sister's side.

"Dear me, Grace, how thoughtless you are, to suppose I can walk so, it is quite smothering me;"

said Maria, hastily pushing her from her, before they had walked many steps.

"I beg your pardon;" returned Grace, submissively, and immediately falling back a few paces.

"Will you take my other arm?" said Sir Walter, looking over his shoulder at her.

Grace was about to accept the offer so frankly and cordially made; she was beginning to feel an interest in Sir Walter's favour, whom she no longer thought either so proud or so ugly as he had at first sight appeared; but again she recollected her mother's caution, and with a coldness of manner totally foreign to her own nature, she refused it.

Sir Walter looked disappointed, but Maria at this moment contrived to centre his thoughts and attentions on herself; a frog leaped across her path, and with the prettiest shriek imaginable, she clung to his arm, in a seeming agony of terror,

Sir Walter entreating her not to be alarmed, raised his stick to demolish the poor unoffending reptile; but Grace dexterously springing forward, caught it up, observing,

"It is a pity to kill such a harmless creature, merely because it is not handsome in our eyes-there, it is gone now," and she placed it in a tuft of grass at some distance.

"I bow beneath your correction, Miss Grace," said Sir Walter, in a tone half-earnest, half-jocular; "you have given me a very proper lesson.'

Grace blushed, and disclaimed all intention of lecturing; and then, as if fearful of having said, or being likely to say, too much, she observed, that she would run on and tell her father they were coming; and without a

reply, she darted off at full speed, and was out of sight in a moment.

"That is certainly a very singular girl!' said Sir Walter, looking after her, and speaking as if unconscious that any one was near him.

"She is very wild," said Maria; "but then she is very kind and good-natured."

"I am very glad to hear you say so," returned Sir Walter, looking earnestly at her, and thinking at that moment, that she looked even handsomer than when he first beheld her; "I mean," he added, seeing Maria look surprised at the warmth of his manner; "I mean, that I am glad to find my opinion of your sister correct, for I fancied from the first moment I beheld her, that her countenance was indicative of the qualities you ascribe to her."

They were now within sight of the haymakers; among whom they soon distinguished Grace and her father, both busily employed, and apparently totally forgetful of the honour intended in the purposed introduction of Sir Walter.

"I declare, it's just like my father," observed Maria, in a tone of vexation; "now he pretends not to see us, and will make us come up quite to the end of the field before he will speak to us."

Sir Walter made no reply; but his keen eye was diligently scanning the still fine form and open ingenuous countenance of the farmer, who, in his large coarse hat of wheaten straw, and stripped to his shirt sleeves, was diligently aiding the labours of his men. "How are you-how are you, sir?" he exclaimed, in a good-humoured tone, as Sir Walter, with Maria

hanging on his arm, approached him. "You'll excuse my not standing to talk; but you know the old saying, Make hay while the sun shines,' and I doubt if it will shine much longer; it has been threatening rain ever since daylight this morning, and the glass is at rain, too."

"You might leave off for a few minutes, however, papa," said Maria, in a reproachful tone, having quitted Sir Walter's arm on purpose to utter this remonstrance. "This gentleman is a near relation of mamma's; and a very rich one, too," she added, in a lower key.

"So much the better for him, child; but rich as he is, I doubt if he'd be willing to pay me for the hay that'll be spoiled, if we don't get it in before the rain so get thee in, my good girl, and don't stand idling about, in the way of those that will work."

"Mamma will be fine and angry when she knows that the gentleman has seen you and Grace both at work, like two common haymakers," said Maria, still trying to carry her point.

"I tell thee what it is, Maria," replied the farmer, elevating his voice to an unusual pitch of anger; "it would far better become both your mother and you, to lay aside all your frippery, and come and lend a helping hand, than -- ; but, there, go along with you, what's the use of my talking to such helpless souls; take the gentleman with you, and make yourselves comfortable in your own way, for I suppose he's like yourselves, all outside, and good for nothing in the world but to eat and drink, and make other people work for them."