"She canvasses for him, I suppose," said Richard, laughing; “a very nice girl indeed! And the father-I am having him watched; and if I catch him dropping any of his guineas, as they say he is, I'll expose him. Nice work, isn't it? Our virtuous friend Robert, so grave in his principles, descending to such dirty work! But let him expect no quarter from me. This is too serious altogether."

Within a week, when Diana was in her little pony-carriage and pair, which she drove herself—and a pretty picture it was to see her and her ponies, and the little "tiger" behind-she actually obtained the opportunity she desired; for there, coming out of M'Williams' drapery-shop, was an elderly legal-looking man, with a tall young girl on his arm. She knew at once this was the Q.C. and his daughter. Certainly a handsome girl, into whose mind came the same instinct, and who looked at Diana with a hard, cold, and bold stare, which rather scared her. Miss Ada Bullock was a handsome girl, and deservedly admired by many a gay "stuff-gown" and opulent "sucking" solicitor, who, according to the old-fashioned phrase, sighed for her. These suitors she treated with infinite disdain; and it was known that she and her "governor" had their eye on that dry chip of Nisi Prius, Robert Bligh. The look the two girls gave each other was curious indeed; and Diana owned to herself, as she drove her ponies back, that Miss Bullock was fine-looking and showy. They were now stopping in the neighbourhood with friends.

The news of our Diana having emerged from the dark caves of grief and mourning to the pleasant sunlight was not long in travelling to Lady Margaret and her family, who were up in town. That lady could generously condone the past, as indeed she always could do on every occasion through her life when the interest of her family required it. Before long she was down at Bowman, and in a still shorter time. was flapping and rustling in on Diana, folding that tender little figure in all her mass of silks and laces-even entangling various loose goldchains and appendages in our Diana's soft hair. She was delighted to see this child again. Canning was away, but would be delighted too when he heard of it all. Nothing could exceed the kindness of the Brenners to him. He was always there; that is, they were always asking him there.

“

"But, my dear, Canning seems so insensible; another young man would be so flattered, you know. Poniatowski, of the Austrian Legation, has proposed twice, and been mysteriously refused.-Yes, dear; we have come here for this dreadful election. Poor Bowman! He says it is expected that none of the county families shall be away from their posts. That fine young fellow Lugard, I hope he'll get in; we're all to support him. I'm told they call the other the schoolmaster. Ha, ha! funny, isn't it?"

Diana was very young and very untrained; and the reader will see

that it was only natural these unfortunate assaults on our leading hero should gradually be weakening that actual romantic respect with which a young girl should regard a young man whom she is to admire. No more unfortunate term than that of "the schoolmaster" could have been applied to forward this end; for the associations connected with that calling-a priggish air, the birch, &c.—are most difficult to struggle against. It came back very often on Diana's mind.

It was a slight exaggeration of Lady Margaret's-not to use a harsher word-this saying she had come down for the election, unless indeed she was thinking of the election of her cherished son into a seat that had more charms for her than any in the schedule. We may pass by as quite harmless the introduction of poor Mr. Bowman's quoted views about county families being at their post, there being daily so many opinions laid to that worthy gentleman's account as would certainly amaze and confound him, had he not been also trained to express no surprise. Part of Lady Margaret's views, which she now pressed very warmly upon Diana, was a proposal that that charming young girl should come with her to town, "and see a little of the world."

"My dear," she said, "we can't leave you shut up in this way. A girl of your prospects and fortune is obliged to go out; it becomes a duty. And really, with such responsibilities on you, darling—a splendid estate and this noble house-you should look about you, and see and get someone to help. There might be someone you'd like; there are charming young men going about town."

"O, Lady Margaret," said Diana, "I am not thinking of such a thing."

"O, but you know it is a duty, dear; many and many's the time your dear father spoke to me about it, while a cloud came on his open brow."

They were just opposite the hunting - picture, now beginning to soften a little; and Diana, looking towards it, and noting how the stiff face was turned towards her, saw in it a sweetness and a love, and an appeal, and a whole train of emotions of which the artist had certainly never dreamed. Every hour that picture was growing more precious.

CHAPTER IV.

A CHANGE.

ONE evening Lugard came in. There was a look of triumph in his eye. He had a newspaper in his hand.

"What did I tell you?" he said; "a case of the cloven hoof indeed! Not that I think he has anything to do with it." He pointed with his finger to a passage. "It seems unkind to show you this; but it is a duty. I have a deep interest in you; and now that you are in a responsible situation, you should know all these things."

A little agitated, Diana took hold of the paper. It was our old

VOL. V.

Р

friend the Mercury; but there were new proprietors. There were four lines, entitled

SADNESS AND SUNSHINE.

Ah, why does the Goddess of Hunting thus sigh?

Ah, tell me the reason, I pray.

For her will her fate do admire-a-Bligh ;

Soon will she cease to be Gay.

Diana coloured, and her lips were compressed. This was the first time her name had ever been dragged before the public.

"It is shocking; a gross lampoon," said Lugard. "Yet I acquit him; of course I do. But he might have prevented it; and he is morally accountable all the same. Is it not astonishing how these ruffians, the scum of the earth, can go such lengths? To attack a harmless girl, and drag her into their wretched politics! And now, if I may advise on this matter, you will let it rest, Diana. I know my opponent Bligh will fly off to have contradictions and apologies; but people always ask, 'What is this that is contradicted? I must get it.' And they will be paying half-a-crown a piece for the old copies."

Leave it as it is.

That sank deep into our Diana's mind. It was like a misfortune. Bligh himself came later; and his behaviour unhappily added to the effect.

"What has happened?" he said, smiling, as he saw her tragedy air, which he was often merry with.

"You have not seen it, then, or heard—?”

"No," said Bligh. "O, the lines! But you don't mind them. They are below contempt; only to be laughed at."

"Only to be laughed at !" repeated Diana, greatly hurt. "0, surely not. It has sunk into my heart. To drag a poor girl in this way before the public! It is shocking, monstrous! O, I shall not recover it for a long, long time! But I did not think that you would treat it so lightly."

"But I do not," said he; "the fact was, I thought you would have laughed, as you used to do at Mr. Pratt's hunting narratives. But I'll walk down and have an apology inserted at once."

"I beg, I implore," said Diana with dignity, "that you will not do such a thing. It will only make it more talked about. People that have not seen it will be looking for the old copies."

She remembered Lugard's words. Bligh was accustomed to witnesses. He smiled.

"I see. I suppose it was Richard, my friend, that brought this here?" "It makes no matter now," said Diana. "I am sure I am greatly to be pitied, and it is most distressing and miserable; and if my poor darling was alive—”

The lines made a deep impression in the county. They were con

sidered "so good," the funniest, drollest things; and certainly Richard Lugard was so far right, that the old copies were sought for with avidity. Lady Margaret, who came over very often now, dwelt much on it.

"I am an old woman that has seen life, and knows a little more than you suspect, or could know; and so I can speak freely. You see this shows you it won't do; it can't. A pretty, charming girl like you, with a great house and estate like this to manage-all that on these little shoulders! You have no idea of the malice of the creatures. As Bowman says, the way the men talk at the clubs! Not that you haven't obligations to these Blighs; and I am sure they have the best intentions, that is, he has; for I know very little of her,—but it cannot do. Bowman prophesied this; I must do him that justice. If you could look out some nice friend whom you liked and respected, and who has the advantages of society and position, and get her to chaperone you-I assure you, my darling child, I am only speaking for your good; and it's what Bowman says, and what Canning says, and what we all say. And at nights I am very much disturbed about it, and lie awake thinking over it."

These counsels sank deep in the heart of our Diana. They were well meant, though they were not a little artful. From that affair of the lines and from its associations Diana's eyes turned away with a sort of horror. Her name "dragged through the mire," an expression of Lugard's!-it scared and terrified her.

All this time the canvassing was going on briskly. The principles of the two candidates were before the country. If we took them broadly, it must be said that Lugard's were Conservative or Tory; and Bligh's Radical. But the latter would not accept that designation; he was "an advanced Liberal." To Prosser, the Radical saddler, he was of course a Radical. Richard Lugard described him scornfully.

"I don't pretend to understand such refinements-I don't indeed. 'Advanced' rubbish, and casuistry of that kind-it's not at all in my way. I am one thing or the other. There are only two honest colours in politics-black and white. The fellows he's asking to put him in, want to cut up your land and mine, and divide it into equal portions. I respect them; I respect Prosser, who says so openly. The proof of it is, I have got many a saddle from him. He knows, perhaps as well as I do, that he will never live to see his principles in force, and that his grandchildren will never see them either. But he sticks to them honestly, and says so honestly. But, hang it! to have a man refining, and half one thing, half another-afraid to say he is that or t'other-to be a Radical in talk and essays, but to go no farther-'pon my word, of the two I prefer the saddler. Now, here am I-plain and straightforward -a Conservative Liberal, if you like-willing to live and let live, and all that. But none of your half-and-halfs-Liberal or advanced Conservative, and all that."

All this time, too, Robert was looking on patiently-making good his ground, up betimes, and at nights coming to Gay Court to settle the papers in the study. He had an object in this; he had begun to see the change in Diana; he was determined to wind up his stewardship, finish honourably what he had undertaken, and then call to his aid all his old training and discipline, and with an effort tear that pleasant and delightful image from his heart. As he sat below in Mr. Gay's study, surrounded with papers, he felt dismal enough.

"It was all her dream, poor soul," he said to himself, thinking of his mother;" and a comfort to her, but a wild folly. I should never have listened to it a moment; I said so, and thought so, all through. It will be a trial and suffering, but I must do it, and do it at once. I have no business with such luxuries as love, or with darlings like her. I always saw that manner in her to me. I was too sober and grave; far too wise. Girls have a contempt for the wise. And if I had read at all, or knew anything, I might have found that out."

That night's post brought him as usual a mail of letters, one in a hand which was familiar, and the sight of which agitated him a little. It was from Lord Bellman, and ran as follows:

"DEAR SIR,-I shall find myself in England, after all, about the time of our election. I regret very much I shall not be able to give you the support I hoped. To speak frankly, I am disappointed in your platform, as the Americans say, of principles. From what I have heard, I could not give my vote to one who talks so mistily-forgive me for saying so of the relations of landlord and tenant. I quite understand that you are more of the doctrinaire, and do not go the lengths of that fellow Prosser; but still, when you are put forward by such people, and when we have a good thorough-going Conservative candidate, conscience steps in. Mr. Richard Lugard called on me yesterday, and did me the honour of explaining at length his political creed. I must say, after that, I could hesitate no longer. You will recollect I gave no distinct promise; though I feel that I should like to show how much I am indebted for the useful legal advice you gave, which the event quite justified. But once principle or conscience interposes, the sense of private obligation must give way.-I am yours, BELLMAN."

&c.

This letter was a shock. He had always counted on Lord Bellman, who was indeed what is called a Liberal. He had some influence in Calthorpe ; but his name and the credit of his support would go for a great deal. It was well known that his lordship was "building" on his new estate. "Middle-aged Jenkinson," his lordship's architect, had been down choosing a site. Here was the prospect of employment, orders to the shopkeepers, &c. The registered voters of Calthorpe were only two hundred and fifty or so.

Mr. Bligh, then, proceeded with his labours with a greater zeal, now