lady wallinger and edith were together in the morning room of hellingsley, the morrow after the arrival of oswald. edith was arranging flowers in a vase, while her aunt was embroidering a spanish peasant in correct costume. the daughter of millbank looked as bright and fragrant as the fair creations that surrounded her. beautiful to watch her as she arranged their forms and composed their groups; to mark her eye glance with gratification at some happy combination of colour, or to listen to her delight as they wafted to her in gratitude their perfume. oswald and sir joseph were surveying the stables; mr. millbank, who had been daily expected for the last week from the factories, had not yet arrived.

‘i must say he gained my heart from the first,’ said lady wallinger.

‘i wish the gardener would send us more roses,’ said edith.

‘he is so very superior to any young man i ever met,’ continued lady wallinger.

‘i think we must have this vase entirely of roses; don’t you think so, aunt?’ inquired her niece.

‘i am fond of roses,’ said lady wallinger. ‘what beautiful bouquets mr. coningsby gave us at paris, edith!’

‘beautiful!’

‘i must say, i was very happy when i met mr. coningsby again at cambridge,’ said lady wallinger. ‘it gave me much greater pleasure than seeing any of the colleges.’

‘how delighted oswald seems at having mr. coningsby for a companion again!’ said edith.

‘and very naturally,’ said lady wallinger. ‘oswald ought to deem himself fortunate in having such a friend. i am sure the kindness of mr. coningsby when we met him at cambridge is what i never shall forget. but he always was my favourite from the first time i saw him at paris. do you know, edith, i liked him best of all your admirers.’

‘oh! no, aunt,’ said edith, smiling, ‘not more than lord beaumanoir; you forget your great favourite, lord beaumanoir.’

‘but i did not know mr. coningsby at rome,’ said lady wallinger; ‘i cannot agree that anybody is equal to mr. coningsby. i cannot tell you how pleased i am that he is our neighbour!’

as lady wallinger gave a finishing stroke to the jacket of her andalusian, edith, vividly blushing, yet speaking in a voice of affected calmness, said,

‘here is mr. coningsby, aunt.’

and, truly, at this moment our hero might be discerned, approaching the hall by one of the avenues; and in a few minutes there was a ringing at the hall bell, and then, after a short pause, the servants announced mr. coningsby, and ushered him into the morning room.

edith was embarrassed; the frankness and the gaiety of her manner had deserted her; coningsby was rather earnest than self-possessed. each felt at first that the presence of lady wallinger was a relief. the ordinary topics of conversation were in sufficient plenty; reminiscences of paris, impressions of hellingsley, his visit to oxford, lady wallinger’s visit to cambridge. in ten minutes their voices seemed to sound to each other as they did in the rue de rivoli, and their mutual perplexity had in a great degree subsided.

oswald and sir joseph now entered the room, and the conversation became general. hellingsley was the subject on which coningsby dwelt; he was charmed with all that he had seen! wished to see more. sir joseph was quite prepared to accompany him; but lady wallinger, who seemed to read coningsby’s wishes in his eyes, proposed that the inspection should be general; and in the course of half an hour coningsby was walking by the side of edith, and sympathising with all the natural charms to which her quick taste and lively expression called his notice and appreciation. few things more delightful than a country ramble with a sweet companion! exploring woods, wandering over green commons, loitering in shady lanes, resting on rural stiles; the air full of perfume, the heart full of bliss!

it seemed to coningsby that he had never been happy before. a thrilling joy pervaded his being. he could have sung like a bird. his heart was as sunny as the summer scene. past and future were absorbed in the flowing hour; not an allusion to paris, not a speculation on what might arrive; but infinite expressions of agreement, sympathy; a multitude of slight phrases, that, however couched, had but one meaning, congeniality. he felt each moment his voice becoming more tender; his heart gushing in soft expressions; each moment he was more fascinated; her step was grace, her glance was beauty. now she touched him by some phrase of sweet simplicity; or carried him spell-bound by her airy merriment.

oswald assumed that coningsby remained to dine with them. there was not even the ceremony of invitation. coningsby could not but remember his dinner at millbank, and the timid hostess whom he then addressed so often in vain, as he gazed upon the bewitching and accomplished woman whom he now passionately loved. it was a most agreeable dinner. oswald, happy in his friend being his guest, under his own roof, indulged in unwonted gaiety.

the ladies withdrew; sir joseph began to talk politics, although the young men had threatened their fair companions immediately to follow them. this was the period of the bed-chamber plot, when sir robert peel accepted and resigned power in the course of three days. sir joseph, who had originally made up his mind to support a conservative government when he deemed it inevitable, had for the last month endeavoured to compensate for this trifling error by vindicating the conduct of his friends, and reprobating the behaviour of those who would deprive her majesty of the ‘friends-of-her-youth.’ sir joseph was a most chivalrous champion of the ‘friends-of-her-youth’ principle. sir joseph, who was always moderate and conciliatory in his talk, though he would go, at any time, any lengths for his party, expressed himself to-day with extreme sobriety, as he was determined not to hurt the feelings of mr. coningsby, and he principally confined himself to urging temperate questions, somewhat in the following fashion:—

‘i admit that, on the whole, under ordinary circumstances, it would perhaps have been more convenient that these appointments should have remained with sir robert; but don’t you think that, under the peculiar circumstances, being friends of her majesty’s youth?’ &c. &c.

sir joseph was extremely astonished when coningsby replied that he thought, under no circumstances, should any appointment in the royal household be dependent on the voice of the house of commons, though he was far from admiring the ‘friends-of-her-youth’ principle, which he looked upon as impertinent.

‘but surely,’ said sir joseph, ‘the minister being responsible to parliament, it must follow that all great offices of state should be filled at his discretion.’

‘but where do you find this principle of ministerial responsibility?’ inquired coningsby.

‘and is not a minister responsible to his sovereign?’ inquired millbank.

sir joseph seemed a little confused. he had always heard that ministers were responsible to parliament; and he had a vague conviction, notwithstanding the reanimating loyalty of the bed-chamber plot, that the sovereign of england was a nonentity. he took refuge in indefinite expressions, and observed, ‘the responsibility of ministers is surely a constitutional doctrine.’

‘the ministers of the crown are responsible to their master; they are not the ministers of parliament.’

‘but then you know virtually,’ said sir joseph, ‘the parliament, that is, the house of commons, governs the country.’

‘it did before 1832,’ said coningsby; ‘but that is all past now. we got rid of that with the venetian constitution.’

‘the venetian constitution!’ said sir joseph.

‘to be sure,’ said millbank. ‘we were governed in this country by the venetian constitution from the accession of the house of hanover. but that yoke is past. and now i hope we are in a state of transition from the italian dogeship to the english monarchy.’

‘king, lords, and commons, the venetian constitution!’ exclaimed sir joseph.

‘but they were phrases,’ said coningsby, ‘not facts. the king was a doge; the cabinet the council of ten. your parliament, that you call lords and commons, was nothing more than the great council of nobles.’

‘the resemblance was complete,’ said millbank, ‘and no wonder, for it was not accidental; the venetian constitution was intentionally copied.’

‘we should have had the venetian republic in 1640,’ said coningsby, ‘had it not been for the puritans. geneva beat venice.’

‘i am sure these ideas are not very generally known,’ said sir joseph, bewildered.

‘because you have had your history written by the venetian party,’ said coningsby, ‘and it has been their interest to conceal them.’

‘i will venture to say that there are very few men on our side in the house of commons,’ said sir joseph, ‘who are aware that they were born under a venetian constitution.’

‘let us go to the ladies,’ said millbank, smiling.

edith was reading a letter as they entered.

‘a letter from papa,’ she exclaimed, looking up at her brother with great animation. ‘we may expect him every day; and yet, alas! he cannot fix one.’

they now all spoke of millbank, and coningsby was happy that he was familiar with the scene. at length he ventured to say to edith, ‘you once made me a promise which you never fulfilled. i shall claim it to-night.’

‘and what can that be?’

‘the song that you promised me at millbank more than three years ago.’

‘your memory is good.’

‘it has dwelt upon the subject.’

then they spoke for a while of other recollections, and then coningsby appealing to lady wallinger for her influence, edith rose and took up her guitar. her voice was rich and sweet; the air she sang gay, even fantastically frolic, such as the girls of granada chaunt trooping home from some country festival; her soft, dark eye brightened with joyous sympathy; and ever and anon, with an arch grace, she beat the guitar, in chorus, with her pretty hand.

the moon wanes; and coningsby must leave these enchanted halls. oswald walked homeward with him until he reached the domain of his grandfather. then mounting his horse, coningsby bade his friend farewell till the morrow, and made his best way to the castle.