174 TYLNEY HALL. rod, in practical imitation of Southey's dismissal of a volume of poetry : " Go fortli upon the waters, little Book I cast thee on the waters— go thy ways P' " Grace— Miss Rivers," lie stammered, " upon my honour—by all that is most sacred, I thought it was another book. Here it is —Walton's Angler;" and he pulled out old Izaak's work with a crash that told his precipitation had been fatal to his pocket. " I am afraid— I hope—there has been a mis- take," answered Grace, equally embarrassed, and with her face averted towards the brook. " My eyes caught a few sentences; but they are ba- nished, forgotten, like words read in a dream." As she spoke she rose up from the stone, as if to depart, but Raby detained her by seizing her hand. " My dear Miss Rivers," he said, " do not leave me in anger. However you may con- demn the sentiments which accident has disclosed, say—oh say that you forgive me. Leave me the comfort of thinking that my inadvertence has not forfeited the favour i formerly enjoyed."
TYLNEY HALL. 175 " There is no offence," replied Grace, disen- gaging her hand. " I have nothing to forgive nay—but I have cause of quarrel, for I now know the source of many poems I have received. Was it fair, Raby, to pass them upon me under a feigned authorship ?" " The same crime as Chatterton's," said Raby ; " but do not condemn me to the same mte." "And what was that?" inquired Grace, not ignorant of the melancholy death of "the mar- vellous boy, the sleepless soul that perished in his pride," but willing to turn the conversation on subjects less embarrassing. " To live joyless, and to die despairing," an- swered Raby, with a tone which proved that, lover-like, he would extract from all possible topics some reference to his own passion. " He wooed the Muse, and in return she starved him—and must I perish too, Grace, with this hunger of the heart ''" " Nay— I am not so implacable as Poverty," replied Grace, with a smile and a blush. " We will still be friends—under that relation we have