We must not, however, forget that up to within a very few months of the time our story opens, there had been another inmate of Overton Hall, and indeed an inmate who had no mean idea of her own importance. This was the little girl called Lotta, who, with large round eyes and demure step, accompanied her mother on Lady Matilda's return to the Hall. Now it must be confessed that the one very very slight thorn in the sides of the three chiefly concerned in this restoration was connected with the little Charlotte-or Lotta: they could not, any of them, be quite as fond of Matilda's child as they could have wished to be. It would have been natural for her to have been the centre of attraction to one and all-for the bereaved parent to have been absolutely devoted to her darling, and for the uncles to have found an unfailing source of interest and amusement in one who was at the endearing age of six, when childhood is especially bewitching, and when the second teeth have not yet begun to come. The whole household might have been provided with an object in Lotta. In taking care of her, watching over her, delighting her little heart with trifles, admiring the dawning of her intelligence, and recounting her sayings, an unflagging source of conversation and study might have been discovered: and, indeed, wiseacres shook their heads, and predicted that a nicely spoilt young lady Miss Charlotte Wilmot would grow up to be, in such an atmosphere, and with such surroundings.

They were mistaken. Lotta was

-POPE.

not spoilt after the fashion they thought of,-and this from no severe exercise of self-restraint on the part of Lady Matilda and her brothers, but simply because they were not so tempted. Nothing, indeed, made the widow more indignant than a hint that such was the case; hard and long she strove against the fact, against nature, against everything that favoured the distressing conviction, but she was overpowered at last, and almost allowed it to herself in her disappointment. She could not, try as she might, turn Charlotte into an engaging child: she petted her, played with her, romped with her; and Charlotte accepted it all without hesitation, but without originating either a caress or a frolic in return. What was wrong? No one seemed to know. the little girl had been a compound of virtues, and it was said of her that a less troublesome charge no nurse had ever possessed. At the age of eight she cut and stitched dolls' frocks without assistance, set herself her own tasks if her governess were unwell or absent, gave directions as to when tucks were to be let down or breadths let out in her frocks, and refrained-on principle-from tasting unknown puddings at table. What was there left for mother, or uncles, to do?

From infancy

"She puts me to shame, I know," cried Lady Matilda, valiantly; "she thinks of things in a way I never could, and quite wonderful in a I don't know child of her age. where I should be without Lotta, I am so forgetful about what has to be done, and she reminds me of

it just at the right time and in the right place. Do you know, she always asks nurse for her medicine" -Lotta being at the time ill with measles. "Nurse says there is no need for her to think about it, for as sure as the finger of the clock points to the hour, Lotta asks for her dose. Is it not nice, and—and thoughtful of the poor child?" And as she spoke thus bravely, almost fiercely, in defence of her offspring, no one would venture to differ from a word she said; indeed they would hastily and nervously agree, find more to say, discriminate between the little phenomenon and others, valorously finding a verdict in Lotta's favour, and watch the very tips of every syllable they uttered, lest anything should escape to rouse suspicion on the part of the parent, thus herself upon the watch against herself.

But how came Lotta to be a child of Lady Matilda-of the gay, careless, jocund Matilda? How came such a creature of habit and order to be associated with such a very spirit of heedlessness and improvidence? How grew such a methodical imp in such a casual soil? How, in short, came the dull, worthy, excellent, and most unattractive daughter, to be born of the brilliant, arch, incorrigible mother? A mystery of mysteries it was.

Lady Matilda did not like to have remarks made upon the subject. She was fond of Charlotte, maternally, that is to say, Charlotte was her child, her only child, the little one whom she had watched from infancy, and who was to be her friend and companion in after life. She had rejoiced in being young for Charlotte's sake. Charlotte should have no soberminded, middle-aged, far-away parent, who would smile benignantly on her games and toys, or listen

condescendingly to her tales of lovers and suitors, having neither part nor lot in such matters, and looking down in wisdom from a height above them. Such mothers were all very well; but she would be on a level with her child, hand and glove in all that went on, the maiden's chosen companion and intimate.

And then, behold, Lotta had needed no such companion; had felt herself sufficient for herself from earliest days; had, if the truth were told, an idea as she waxed older, that she was her mother's superior in sense and sagacity, forethought and prudence. What was to be done, this being the case? A wet day would come, and Lady Matilda, bored to death with a long afternoon in the house, would cheerfully propose-making Lotta the pretext - a game of

battledore and shuttlecock in the gallery. Oh yes, Lotta would play if mamma wished it; but it would surely tire mamma, and for herself she would prefer going on with what she was doing. She was quite happy; she was preparing her lessons for the next day; she did not need any play, thank you. After such a snub, Matilda and Teddy would look at the child—Matilda with a perplexed curious look, Teddy with a grin-and then they would go off and play with each other, while not even the sounds of mirth and the regular monotonous tap-tap of the shuttlecock would bring the diligent and virtuous piece of industry from her selfset task.

"She might have been born an old woman," Matilda would mutter to herself; but she would take very good care not to let what had passed elicit a comment from Teddy. While Lotta was very young, and before it became absolutely certain what Lotta would

turn out, he knew that no animadversions on his niece would be permitted, and that his sister, sore because of her own disappointment, would not stand so much as an insinuation from others. It was when the little girl was most imposing and didactic, was least endurable, in other terms, that Lady Matilda's tongue ran fastest in her favour. What would her uncles have? They need not expect every child to be like other children, as if they were a pack of sheep. Lotta was all that any one could desire in the way of goodness and gentleness: and as for her little practical head, you might trust her with a whole list of articles to buy, and shops to go to, and she would not only forget nothing, but would bring her little account afterwards and make it balance to a farthing. "Which

is more than I ever could do," the poor lady would add in conclusion.

But as Charlotte grew up there was less and less in common between her and her mother.

66

The latter could not hide from herself, as years went on, how limited in reality were her daughter's powers, and how commonplace her mind. The very governess learned to shrug her shoulders. 'Yes, Miss Charlotte was not what you could call bright, not quick. She was a very good girl, very industrious, very diligent, but she had not the the ability. No; she had no decided turn for anything. For languages, certainly not; for history, geography, grammar, pretty well; but music, drawing, poetry" -she would shake her head.

In short, Charlotte was a dullard, who never opened a book if she could help it, who neither knew nor cared to know what was in the heavens above or in the earth beneath, who seldom put a question, who never created an idea, and who was far more satisfied with her ig

norance than the wisest philosopher with his knowledge. At seventeen Lady Matilda, who had indeed, as we know, no cause to advocate matrimony, was still fain to acknowledge to herself that when the young lady had finished with lessons there would be nothing for it but to marry her.

"Provided she gets a poor man she may do very well," reflected the unworldly mother; "a rich one would leave her far too little to think about; and as she has something of her own, she can never be really at a loss. Grant her a poor man-a moderately poor man

and she will find the most delightful occupation in economising, saving, looking after every bit and scrap, worrying her servants, and reducing everything she has in hand to system. She will do her own marketing, and turn her own gowns. She will have a bunch of keys as big as a bottle. Yes, yes; that must be it. Lotta must marry, and marry soon, or-well, there is no use denying it, she will drive us all out of our senses."

"Since Miss Grove has deserted us"- for the wily Miss Grove, oppressed by the staid solemnity of her one pupil, had flown to a livelier schoolroom, after having first assured Lady Matilda, with a mixture of artfulness and ingenuity, that it was of no use her staying on, as Miss Wilmot would never learn more than she knew already -"since Lotta has been her own mistress, she has become quite dreadful," owned poor Matilda to herself. "She proses to Overton like a woman of fifty, and seems to think that her mission in life is to keep us all in order. I am sure I really do not know what will be the end of it, if some charitable person does not take pity upon us, and appear to the rescue."

And then, as if by magic, who

should appear before the astonished eyes of the fair conjurer, but the very charitable person she sought, as though raised by her spells? It was too much. She was almost overpowered by her good luck. Could it be could it really be? Was it possible, not to say actually the case, that here was Mr Robert Hanwell, the unexceptionable, not too rich, not too clever, not too exacting son and heir of old John Hanwell at the other end of the county, coming forward as a suitor for the hand of the youthful and charming and sadly perplexing Miss Wilmot ?

Miss Wilmot's mamma clapped her hands when there was no one by to see her.

Then she was vexed with herself, and the tears came into her eyes as she saw what she had done. Was that the way to treat an event so serious? Was that the spirit wherein she should have received the news that her daughter's happiness was, humanly speaking, secured for life? She ought to have known better. Well did she know whence came this good thing, and who had taken thought of the widow and the fatherless, and a softer light shone in her eye, and the lip quivered a little, as associations and memory awoke, as they do awake at such times. Lotta would be happy in her husband, it appeared. Mr Hanwell was known to them all by repute, and repute spoke him a good man, come of a good stock. He was apparently much enamoured of Lotta; he had met her at a country house, whither Charlotte had been packed off in order to give the household at Overton a moment's breathing space after her emancipation, and the sedate, well-conducted, and fairly comely young miss had apparently found favour in the eyes of one person from the very begin

ning of their acquaintance. Lotta had been glad enough to go, glad to leave Overton, where, although she knew not why, she herself had felt uncomfortable, and where, just before, Teddy had succeeded in rousing up the party, if he had not improved matters, by sulking for a week on end. Lotta had gone off in good spirits, well pleased and well dressed-Lady Matilda had taken care of the last-and the consequence was, she had been caught at her best. They had little expected such a result; they had merely felt that Mademoiselle must betake herself elsewhere for a season, must give them a brief release from her sense and supervision; therefore the delight of all may be imagined, and even Lady Matilda's childish expression of it pardoned, when one fine morning who should appear but Mr Robert Hanwell, big with purposes concerning her.

He met with no opposition; to demur was not to be thought of. The earl and his sister had indeed much ado to conceal their indecent glee at the prospect of getting rid in a manner at once so unexpected and so delightful of an incubus whose weight had already begun to press heavily on their shoulders; and it was only by rigidly composing their countenances that they could restrain an outbreak and overflow of smiles, and by steadfastly fixing their eyes upon the ground that they could keep them from reciprocally congratulating each other.

With some trepidation Mr Hanwell made his offer. He was, he stated, not a wealthy man, but his father could do something for him; he was the eldest son, and the estate was unencumbered; his father could give him seven or eight hundred a-year; he had no profession, having-hum-haw—

dabbled in law a little, but not been exactly called to the bar-at least-well, it did not signify, it would not have suited him,-and all he meant was that, having thus no tie to any place-no necessity for being here or there he would be able to settle down anywhere; he should have no objection-indeed, would be very glad to be in the neighbourhood of Overton, as no doubt Lady Matilda would wish," Lady Matilda gravely bent her head, "he would do anything, in short, in that way, or in any way, for he felt very much what a-that-a-that he was asking a great deal, that he was seeking to deprive a mother of her only child,”—Lady Matilda bowed again," but indeed," concluded the aspirant with a flourish -"indeed, I would endeavour to do my best to be worthy of the position I aspire to." The last sentence with a glance towards Lord Overton, who was standing harmlessly by, and who had no idea whatever that the said position referred in any way to him.

Mr Hanwell thus got through the whole of the speech he had previously prepared, without interruption from either, and probably also without in the least discovering then or thereafter that there had been no occasion for saying anything half so fine.

Overton merely observed that Charlotte was a good girl, and would make him a good wife.

Lady Matilda endeavoured to go a step further, and floundered about between truth and falsehood for several minutes, before she was able to seek refuge in complimenting alternately the young man's "She knew," parents and himself.

she vowed, "all about the Hanwells, everybody must know about the Hanwells if they did no more, and she should be only too happy to be connected with them, to have her daughter enter so—so—” for the life of her she could not think of any other word than "respectable," and as that would hardly have done to say, she was fain to do without an attribute, and finish off rather humbly with "such a family as the Hanwells."

It was at this juncture that the door flew open, and Teddy,-who had not been present, but who had managed nevertheless to learn, as he usually did, by means best known to himself, all that was going on,-Teddy now burst in with a face like a sunbeam, shook the visitor's hand for full two minutes, stared him in the face, and wound up with a laugh which we are bound to confess was suspiciously silly.

All, however, was taken in good

part.

Mr Hanwell was satisfied, more than satisfied, with his reception; and Lady Matilda devoted herself for the remainder of his stay towards keeping up the degree of complacency which had been already excited. In private, as we know, she clapped her hands. Lotta married and provided for, settled in a comfortable home, with a good kind husband of her own choosing, within easy reach of Overton, yet not too near-not so near as to necessitate daily intercourse-oh, with her whole heart of hearts she blessed Robert Hanwell.

The wedding took place, and we know what the next event

was.

VOL. CXXXIV.-NO. DCCCXVI.

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