190 TYLNEY HALL. would jump at Grace, for I saw him throwing the eyes of t whole flock of sheep at her; and so would Raby or St. Kitts ; but Ringwood, though he has father's consent and everything, turns away from her, confound him, like musty hay." There is a saying, which imputes to dogs in general a disposition to fall on and bite one that is bitten ; and Sir Mark seemed placed in the very situation of the unfortunate cur. In glancing occasionally through the carriage window, his eye had observed some object that the Creole carried before him on the saddle, and which he at length made out to be a beautiful small spaniel of the Blenheim breed. His curiosity being excited, he took an opportunity of letting down the window and asking St. Kitts where the little animal was going, and he was informed that it was destined for a present to Grace Rivers. The answer made Raby smile, but it gave a fresh pang to the Baronet ; and, reflecting that Ring wood carried no spaniels to Hawksley, he pulled up the window again, with a sud- denness that threatened to demolish the glass. To Mrs. Hamilton, who had been the depository of her brother's matrimonial schemes, his movements were no mystery ; but she was restrained by the presence of Raby, and did not venture on any remark. The Baronet was not in a humour for talking, and Raby was soon occupied in speculations of his own ; so that the three insides travelled on to their destination as mute as three strange reserved English passengers by a mail, who have never met before and may never meet again, and besides have locked up their tongues in their travelling-bags, which are in the hind-boot.
TYLNEY HALL. 191 CHAPTER V. Hobbinol. Diggon Davie, I bid her good day ; Or Diggon her is, or I mis-say. Diggon. Her was her while it was daylight, But now her is a most wretched wight ; For day that was is wightly past, And now at last the dirk night doth haste. SPENCER'S Shepherd''! Calendar. For my part I know not whether is| best, to live thus or die out of hand ; my soul chooseth strangling rather than life, and the grave is more easy for me than this dungeon. Christian in the Castle of Despair. Her eyes are wild, her head is bare, The sun has burnt her coal black hair; Her eyebrows have a rusty stain, And she came far from over the main. WORDSWORTH. THE representative of justice, as does not always happen with Justice herself, was at home to those who inquired for him. He had just begun to lunch in company with Grace ; and by way of economising time, was listening to a report of his clerk on the Hazel Bridge evidence, when the visitors were announced and introduced. The usual greetings were ex- changed, but the Baronet, who kept a wary eye on Ringwood, remarked, with displeasure, that he quitted Grace after a very brief salutation, and was soon in close convers- ation with the magistrate's clerk, Nick Ferrers, a noted cocker, who, in the true spirit of the law, liked to see two game clients pitted against each other, and shedding their blood and feathers for any body's benefit but their own. The Creole next approached the young lady, and after a few compliments he introduced to her the little spaniel. lt He is, I assure you, Miss Rivers, one of the true Blenheim breed, for I procured him myself of the Duke's He is really a pretty fellow, arid deserves to be a keeper. lady's dog, if you will honour me by taking him into your service." a I am really sorry," said Grace, blushing, and looking confused, " that you should have taken the trouble, not that I shall feel less grateful for the kindness of the in- tention, but Raby was so good as to send me one of the