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him, and, on the conclusion of some remark, Uncle Abel said, as if unconsciously, "He is, indeed, very like his mother."

Some few hours were then spent by the young man in arranging his little wardrobe, and in looking out some letters which he had promised to deliver. He missed one, however, and after turning over every article he possessed more than a dozen times, concluded he had lost it. What made the matter more provoking was, that he could not recollect to whom it was addressed. As he had received it amongst others from his mother, to whom it had been committed by a friend, he mentioned its loss in a despatch which he proceeded to write to her, and also detailed his safe arrival, and the impressions made upon him by his uncles and Mr. Scarve. Strange to say, he did not mention Hilda; and he could not easily account to himself for the reluctance he felt to allude to her. His letter concluded, he went down stairs, and found both his uncles prepared for a stroll. Accordingly, they all three went forth, and, crossing Westminster Bridge, shaped their course towards Saint James's Park. As they passed the Little Sanctuary, Randulph could not help gazing towards the dungeon-like dwelling which enshrined her who had made so deep an impression upon him. Uncle Abel noticed his look, and, partly divining the cause of it, said, "Remember what I told you. Disobey me, and you will rue it."

Randulph would have made some reply, but he was checked by a significant glance from Uncle Trussell.

Having passed through the Gate House, they entered the Park by a small doorway at the end of Prince's-court. It was now noon, and a warm and genial day. The paths between the avenues of trees then extending between this point and Rosamond's Pond were crowded with persons of both sex, and of all ranks, summoned forth by the fineness of the weather.