the duke of st. james had, on his arrival at dacre, soon observed that a constant correspondence was maintained between miss dacre and her cousin. there was no attempt to conceal the fact from any of the guests, and, as that young gentleman was now engaged in an affair interesting to all his friends, every letter generally contained some paragraph almost as interesting to the montingfords as to herself, which was accordingly read aloud. mr. arundel dacre was candidate for the vacant representation of a town in a distant county. he had been disappointed in his views on the borough, about which he had returned to england, but had been nevertheless persuaded by his cousin to remain in his native country. during this period, he had been a great deal at castle dacre, and had become much more intimate and unreserved with his uncle, who observed with great satisfaction this change in his character, and lost no opportunity of deserving and increasing the confidence for which he had so long unavailingly yearned, and which was now so unexpectedly proffered.

the borough for which arundel dacre was about to stand was in sussex, a county in which his family had no property, and very slight connection. yet at the place, the catholic interest was strong, and on that, and the usual whig influence, he ventured. his desire to be a member of the legislature, at all and from early times extreme, was now greatly heightened by the prospect of being present at the impending catholic debate. after an absence of three weeks, he had hurried to yorkshire for four-and-twenty hours, to give a report of the state of his canvass, and the probability of his success. in that success all were greatly interested, but none more so than miss dacre, whose thoughts indeed seemed to dwell on no other subject, and who expressed herself with a warmth which betrayed her secret feelings. had the place only been in yorkshire, she was sure he must have succeeded. she was the best canvasser in the world, and everybody agreed that harry grey-stoke owed his election merely to her insinuating tongue and unrivalled powers of scampering, by which she had completely baffled the tactics of lady amarantha.

germain, who thought that a canvass was only a long morning call, and might be achieved in a cashmere and a britzska.

the young duke, who had seen little of his second since the eventful day, greeted him with warmth, and was welcomed with a frankness which he had never before experienced from his friend. excited by rapid travel and his present course of life, and not damped by the unexpected presence of any strangers, arundel dacre seemed quite a changed man, and talked immensely.

‘come, may, i must have a kiss! i have been kissing as pretty girls as you. there now! you all said i never should be a popular candidate. i get regularly huzzaed every day, so they have been obliged to hire a band of butchers’ boys to pelt me. whereupon i compare myself to c?sar set upon in the senate house, and get immense cheering in “the county chronicle,” which i have bribed. if you knew the butts of wine, the heidelberg tuns of ale, that i have drank during the last fortnight, you would stare indeed. as much as the lake: but then i have to talk so much, that the ardour of my eloquence, like the hot flannels of the humane society, save me from the injurious effects of all this liquid.’

‘but will you get in; but will you get in?’ exclaimed his cousin.

”tis not in mortals to command success; but ——’

‘pooh! pooh! you must command it!’ ‘well, then, i have an excellent chance; and the only thing against me is, that my committee are quite sure. but really i think that if the protestant overseers, whom, by-the-bye, may, i cannot persuade that i am a heretic (it is very hard that a man is not believed when he says he shall be damned), if they do not empty the workhouse, we shall do. but let us go in, for i have travelled all night, and must be off tomorrow morning.’

they entered the house, and the duke quitted the family group. about an hour afterwards, he sauntered to the music-room. as he opened the door, his eyes lighted upon may dacre and her cousin. they were standing before the fire, with their backs to the door. his arm was wound carelessly round her waist, and with his other hand he supported, with her, a miniature, at which she was looking.

the duke could not catch her countenance, which was completely hid; but her companion was not gazing on the picture: his head, a little turned, indicated that there was a living countenance more interesting to him than all the skill of the most cunning artist. part of his cheek was alone perceptible, and that was burning red.

all this was the work of a moment. the duke stared, turned pale, closed the door without a sound, and retired unperceived. when he was sure that he could no longer be observed, he gasped for breath, a cold dew covered his frame, his joints loosened, and his sinking heart gave him that sickening sensation when life appears utterly worthless, and ourselves utterly contemptible. yet what had he witnessed? a confirmation of what he had never doubted. what was this woman to him? alas! how supreme was the power with which she ruled his spirit! and this dacre, this arundel dacre, how he hated him! oh! that they were hand to hand, and sword to sword, in some fair field, and there decide it! he must conquer; he felt that. already his weapon pierced that craven heart, and ripped open that breast which was to be the pillow of ——. hell! hell! he rushed to his room, and began a letter to caroline st. maurice; but he could not write; and after scribbling over a quire of paper, he threw the sheets to the flames, and determined to ride up to town tomorrow.

the dinner bell sounded. could he meet them? ay! meet them! defy them! insult them! he descended to the dining-room. he heard her musical and liquid voice; the scowl upon his brow melted away; but, gloomy and silent, he took his seat, and gloomy and silent he remained. little he spoke, and that little was scarcely courteous. but arundel had enough to say. he was the hero of the party. well he might be. story after story of old maids and young widows, sturdy butchers and corrupt coal merchants, sparkled away; but a faint smile was all the tribute of the duke, and a tribute that was seldom paid.

‘you are not well!’ said miss dacre to him, in a low voice.

‘i believe i am,’ answered he shortly.

‘you do not seem quite so,’ she replied, with an air of surprise.

‘i believe i have got a headache,’ he retorted with little more cordiality. she did not again speak, but she was evidently annoyed.