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and in compliance with the instructions he had received, Lord Derwentwater introduced him as Mr. Johnson—but without another word.

      Sir John Webb bowed rather stiffly to the stranger, and Forster was scarcely more polite; indeed, very little notice was taken of him, except by the young ladies, both of whom were struck by his manner, and entered into conversation with him.

      They soon found out that he was a person of distinction, and learning that he had only just come from France, felt sure he must be a messenger from the Chevalier de Saint George, and began to question him about the prince, displaying an interest in the cause, that could not but be agreeable to the hearer.

      “I shall probably see the prince ere long,” said the Chevalier, “and will not fail to tell him what warm partisans he has among the ladies of Northumberland.”

      “Tell him that Dorothy Forster, of Bamborough Castle, will do her best to aid him whenever he comes,” cried that young lady.

      “Tell him that Anna Webb begins to think he never means to come at all, and fears he has forgotten his friends,” added the other.

      “Both messages shall reach him, I promise you,” said the prince. “And when he learns how surpassingly beautiful are the two damsels who sent them he will be doubly gratified.”

      “We need no compliments,” said Anna. “For my part I am out of patience with the prince.”

      “Why so?”

      “Because he neglects so many opportunities. He might be on the throne now, had he chosen.”

      “The prince has neglected no chance. But you are not aware of the difficulties he has had to encounter.”

      “I can partly guess them. But they are nothing. Were I in his place I would have made twenty attempts, and either have succeeded or perished.”

      “I admire your spirit. But to win a kingdom, you must have an army. And the prince has no army.”

      “He could have one very soon,” cried Anna.

      “Yes, that is certain,” added Dorothy. “A small army could be raised in this county. Lord Derwentwater could bring five hundred men. And my brother, Mr. Forster could raise a troop.”

      “Tell this to the prince, when you go back,” cried Anna. “Say that the Jacobite ladies of England are dying to behold him.”

      “That will bring him, if anything will,” laughed the prince.

      At this moment Lord Derwentwater came up, and said to Anna:

      “May I ask what message you are sending to the prince?”

      “That we are all tired of waiting for him,” she replied. “We have been so often disappointed, that we begin to think he will never come.”

      “Then let me inform you that I have just received certain intelligence that his majesty is in England at this moment.”

      Dorothy and Anna uttered exclamations of surprise and delight.

      “You hear that, papa?” cried the latter to Sir John Webb. “Lord Derwentwater says that his majesty, King James the Third, is now in England. Is not that good news?”

      “Wonderfully good news!” exclaimed Sir John. “Where has he landed?”

      “I can't tell you where he has landed,” cried Tom Forster, scarcely repressing a joyous shout. “But I can tell you where he is now. Since none of you have discovered him, I'll be first to kiss hands.”

      And rushing forward, he bent before the prince, who graciously extended his hand towards him.

      On this there was a general movement towards the prince, who had now entirely changed his deportment, and received them all with dignified affability.

      To Lady Webb he showed marked attention, and to each of the young ladies he had something pleasant to say, and soon relieved any uneasiness they might feel as to the freedom with which they had spoken to him.

      This little ceremony over, he took Sir John Webb and Mr. Forster apart, and remained in earnest conversation with them for a few minutes.

      He then returned to the ladies, and proposed a walk in the garden, to which they delightedly assented.

VII.—THE PROPOSAL.

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      The gardens at Dilston, though somewhat formally laid out, as previously mentioned, were very beautiful, and were just then in perfection. The prince admired them very much, and of course everybody else was enchanted.

      After wandering about for some time—now stopping to look at one object, now at another—the prince walked on with Lady Webb, and the party began to disperse, moving about in different directions.

      Somehow or other, Lord Derwentwater found himself alone with Anna. He looked about for Dorothy, but she was a long way off with Charles Radclyffe, and no one was near them.

      Close to where they stood was a rustic bench, shaded by a tree, and saying she felt a little fatigued, Anna sat down. Lord Derwentwater could not do otherwise than take a place beside her.

      We will not say what thoughts agitated her breast, but she felt that the critical moment had arrived, and trembled lest any interruption should occur before the word was uttered that might decide her fate.

      She did not look at the lovely parterre of flowers before her—nor listen to the plashing of the fountain—she heard nothing—saw nothing. But the accents she longed for were not breathed, and Lord Derwentwater remained silent. Why did he not speak?

      Fearing the moment might pass, she raised her magnificent eyes, which had been thrown upon the ground, and fixed them full upon him.

      Though he spoke not, he had been watching her, and the glance he now encountered pierced his breast. How much was conveyed in that long, passionate look! How eloquent was the earl's reply! An instantaneous revelation was made to each of the state of the other's heart. No longer any doubt. He knew she loved him. She felt he was won.

      Yet, as if to make assurance doubly sure, he took her hand. She did not withdraw it, and still gazing tenderly at her, he said in a low voice, but which was distinctly audible:

      “Can you love me, Anna?”

      Her glance became even more passionate, as she answered:

      “I can—I do.”

      “Will you be mine, then?” demanded the earl, passing his arm round her waist, and drawing her towards him.

      Her reply must have been in the affirmative, yet it was almost stifled by the kiss imprinted on her lips.

      He had only just released her from this fond embrace, when they became conscious that they were not unobserved.

      So engrossed were they by each other that they had not hitherto noticed the prince and Lady Webb on the further side of the lawn.

      Lord Derwentwater, in a moment, decided on the course he ought to pursue.

      “Come with me,” he said to Anna.

      And, taking her hand, he led her towards her mother, whose feelings of pride and satisfaction may be easily imagined when the announcement was made, and her consent asked to their union.

      But it was asked in a manner that does not belong to the present age, and her consent was given with equal formality, and accompanied by a blessing.

      As they arose from their half-kneeling posture, the prince embraced the earl, and said to him:

      “Accept my sincere congratulations, cousin. Lovelier bride you could

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