light whatever, but volunteered to inquire, if an opportunity should present itself naturally for so doing: as to the first question, he could only repeat, what he had already told the Signor Avvocato when in Turin, that the minister had expressed his positive intention of employing him as soon as he should have taken his degree.

"Ah! and in May next," said the Signor Avvocato, "you will be just turned three-and-twenty, an age when a youth begins to know a little what he is about. At the end of five or six years at the longest, we may reckon on your having got something very fine-a first-class Intendenza, let us say, or a secretaryship; I don't mean of State," added he, smiling at his own wit; "you must be a deputy before you can be that-but the secretaryship of some embassy. You will be then twentyeight or twenty-nine, exactly the fit age to marry. By-the-bye, Rose consents of course?"

"Consents to what?" asked Vin

cenzo.

"To what?-why, to marry you!" "To know that, I must have asked her, and..."

"And you have not?" resumed the Signor Avvocato. "What the deuce! Do you expect me to make a declaration for you ?"

"That is a trouble, I think, I can spare you," said Vincenzo, "if you only give me leave."

"Give you leave! Have I not been giving you leave every day during these whole three blessed months?"

"I beg your pardon, sir," said Vincenzo: "you have more than once, it is true, kindly alluded to a possible happy consummation of something that was wished for, but what that something was you always left in a mist; and could I, on the strength of such obscure hints, consider myself freed from the strict promise of silence which you had exacted from me in Turin ?"

"Well, perhaps not," said the Signor Avvocato; "I give you credit for unusual prudence at all events."

"In which I give you fair warning I

shall not persevere now," said Vincenzo coaxingly, and rose to go.

"Where are you going?" asked his godfather, quickly.

"To pray the daughter to ratify the father's consent," returned Vincenzo.

"Dear me-what a hurry you are in all at once!" said the Signor Avvocato, with a slight degree of vexation.

"My time here is short-only twentyfour hours left: I must make the most of it," replied Vincenzo, and hastened

away.

The old gentleman watched him depart with a very rueful countenance; had he dared he would have forbidden him to go-forbidden him to speak; he lacked the courage to do so, after what had passed between them. His good heart had betrayed him, in the impulse of the moment, into being more explicit than he had intended to be; and thus, in a twinkling, was lost all the advantage of his temporising policy of months and months.

Vincenzo, having sought in vain for Miss Rose indoors and in the garden, bethought himself of her favourite retreat, the belvedere, already so often mentioned, and took the shortest way thither, through the avenue of walnut trees, which he had scarcely entered before he espied Rose coming towards him from the other end. Vincenzo hurried on, and the two were face to face in a few instants.

"Good morning, Miss Rose! I came here in the hope of finding you."

"Did you?" said Rose, with a little surprise. "Well, here I am."

"I have something to say to you," began Vincenzo.

"I am listening," said Rose, not without a little flurry of expectation.

"I think I shall say it best if we walk on," said Vincenzo.

"As you like," said Rose, and moved on by his side.

Be it chance or design, he led the way down the avenue. "Are you charitably disposed?" asked he, after a short pause.

"I think I am," said she, with a half smile.

"Because," resumed Vincenzo, “I am going to plead guilty to a great presumption."

"That is the last sin I should ever have suspected you of: it must be one of very fresh date."

"On the contrary, it is one of my very oldest and most inveterate; and it dates, as far as I can remember, from the first day I saw you."

"As old as that-you alarm me!" said Rose, trying to smile. "What a dissembler you must be, to have hid it so long from me!"

"Have you then never guessed that I-I... loved you, Rose?"

She blushed scarlet, and said, "Is that your sin of presumption?"

He looked at her and bowed his head. "But there is no sin in that. Are we not desired to love our neighbours as ourselves?"

"Yes, but the love I speak of is of quite another kind; it is, to begin with, of a more passionate nature; it is exclusive and interested, so much so that..."

A shout from behind stopped the definition short; the young lady and gentleman turned round and saw the Signor Avvocato hobbling after them. However unseasonable the interruption, there was nothing for it but to go and meet the old gentleman.

"Six years hence-six years hence, remember," cried the Signor Avvocato, as soon as he could make himself heard. "What is to be six years hence, papa?" asked Rose.

"Why, the wedding to be sure," said

papa.

"The wedding?" repeated Rose, in unfeigned surprise.

The Signor Avvocato stared at her in utter perplexity, then at Vincenzo, then at her again, and at last said, "Yes, the wedding that is, if you agree to it."

"Agree to what, papa?" cried Rose. "Zounds! as if you didn't know," exclaimed her father, losing all patience; "if you agree to marry that young man by your side, I speak plain enough now, I hope."

Poor Vincenzo blushed up to the

very roots of his hair, less at the statement itself than at the prosaic way in which it had been made. Rose did not look alarmed, or shocked, or even embarrassed. She simply said, "How could I know if nobody told me?"

The Signor Avvocato turned a significant eye on Vincenzo.

"You left me no time," returned his godson, with a little testiness. "You seem, after all, quite determined to make the declaration for me; will you be so good, at least, as to complete it?" "Complete it-how?"

"When any one presents a petition, he expects and hopes for an answer, does he not?" said Vincenzo.

"Ah! well-true-you are right. Well, Rose my dear, now is the time to make up your mind."

"Is it?" said Rose, archly. "I will some day during these next six years," and she ran away.

For the first time in his life was his godfather's company a bore to Vincenzo -not that it was an obstacle to his following Rose, and pressing her for an answer-he was in no mood for that: the sort of game at cross-purposes to which chance had lowered what was to have been the solemn effusion of his heart of hearts, had told too painfully upon his feelings, to leave him liberty of mind enough, or indeed the inclination, to urge his suit just then; but to have to listen to that prosing, and for form's sake to make some kind of answer, while longing for silence and solitude, was, to the young man, a real trial. At last the Signor Avvocato felt the necessity of rest for himself, so returned to the house; and Vincenzo, under the pretext of having some visits to pay in Rumelli, released himself from further bondage. A solitary walk of a couple of hours did much towards dispelling the gloom that had gathered over him, and Rose's smooth brow and smile full of promise, when he met her at dinner, completed the cure.

The Signor Avvocato, contrary to his wont, was very active and busy during the rest of the day; he had manifold directions to give his daughter, manifold

commissions for Vincenzo to execute. He insisted on going out with them for a walk five minutes after having complained of being tired. In one word, the poor father did his best to keep them asunder; and, to a certain extent, succeeded in the attempt. But all the trouble he gave himself and others could not and did not prevent the young couple from occasionally exchanging confidential whispers, by which, to judge from appearances, they arrived at an entente cordiale. At least Vincenzo's face, when he left on the morrow, was not that of a rejected suitor, nor Rose's that of an unrelenting beauty.

The Signor Avvocato kept his room the whole of that day, so worn out was he by his extraordinary exertions of the day before.

CHAPTER XXVII.

THE INTERRUPTED DEFINITION CONCLUDED.

A WEEK, two weeks passed. Rose was as silent as a tomb-Vincenzo was gone away for six months. All being thus arranged for the best in this best of possible worlds, what could the Signor Avvocato do, but sink again on his soft couch of procrastination, and lull himself to sleep on it?

Little thought our Fabius Cunctator that an enemy to his repose lay in wait for him at Ibella. Yes, he was no sooner settled there comfortably for the winter, than no less a personage than the Signor Intendente waited on him, and asked point-blank for Miss Rose's hand. Had the Intendente asked him for his purse or his life, the good easy gentleman could not have been more startled. To say no to anybody cost him an effort at all times à fortiori to say no to the head authority of the province, and that at a minute's notice, was a herculean task indeed. He lashed himself up to it though but in his fear of offending, in his eagerness to soften the blow, he wandered into a maze of explanations, got entangled by his own words, and made a nice mess of it.

The amour propre of the Intendente being mightily wounded by what he per

ceived to be nothing but a beating about the bush, he had the bad taste to insist on knowing on what grounds a man of his rank and official standing was rejected. The Signor Avvocato, at his wit's end, protested and reprotested that it was on no grounds personal to the Signor Intendente; far from it, he felt all the honour conferred on him by a proposal from so distinguished a person; were it in his power, he would be only too happy, but.... as it was, he regretted to say he had nothing but grateful thanks to offer-circumstances existed. . . . early inclinations-young ladies would have their way nowadays; he begged to be spared the necessity of being more explicit. Upon this the rejected suitor retired in no very pleased mood, and the Signor Avvocato, after a sonorous ouf! of relief, said to himself aloud, "Rather than be worried with more applications of this sort, why, I'll marry them at once."

Not long after D. Natale called on the Signor Avvocato on some parish business. "By-the-bye," said the old priest, "I am glad to hear that we are soon to eat confetti, sugarplums," (an idiom tantamount to saying "We are soon to have a wedding").

"Who is to be married?" asked the Signor Avvocato.

"No use playing the Indian," retorted D. Natale: "such discretion is ill-advised towards an old friend like me, when all Rumelli and Ibella are in the secret. Then you know that I always liked the boy, thought highly of him. You will have a good bargain in him for in-law."

your son

The Signor Avvocato's features fellhe was beginning to understand the allusion.

"And mind,” ended the priest, "it is old D. Natale who is to give the blessing-I'll never forgive you if I don't."

"All Rumelli and Ibella are in the secret!" thought the Signor Avvocato. "How can they know?"

Obviously enough, they knew from an indiscretion of the Signor Avvocato himself. When, in the eagerness to gild the pill for the Signor Intendente, he had let fall the expression "early inclina

tions," it was much the same as if he had said, in so many words, that Vincenzo was to be his daughter's husband. For to no other could those words apply, but to Vincenzo or young Del Palmetto, with both of whom Rose had, to a certain age, been brought up. Now, it being notorious that the young lady had rejected Del Palmetto, the "early inclinations" could only refer to Vincenzo. Undoubtedly, it was ungenerous in the Intendente to take advantage of an unguarded word, to sound the trumpet about this match; but the Intendente was piqued, and pique is never generous.

There yet remained a hope, that it might all be a fancy generated by that weakened brain of D. Natale. The matter, though, was worth inquiring into. If there was any foundation for D. Natale's assertion, Barnaby would be sure to know; but, then, to question Barnaby was to create the evil, if it did not exist. No, it would not do to apply to Barnaby. Giuseppe was the man-he could be trusted. And forthwith, the dairyman who brought the milk to the Signor Avvocato's town-house, and to market every day, was charged with a message summoning Giuseppe to Ibella. seppe came. The Signor Avvocato evinced the greatest anxiety to learn whether the late frost had done any injury in the nursery of young mulberrytrees, and, being reassured on that point, had many other items about which to ask and to be enlightened. the P.S:

Giu

At last came

"And how do you amuse yourselves up there in this weather? I hear there's plenty of idle gossip going on, eh?"— Giuseppe was not aware that there was any particular gossip going on in Rumelli.

"I was told," went on the Signor Avvocato, "that a report had got abroad about my daughter being engaged to be married. Has it reached your ears?"The report mentioned by the Signor Avvocato had reached Giuseppe's ears. "And pray, is it said to whom she is engaged?"-The name of Signor Vincenzo had been mentioned.

"Was such a rumour generally current?"-Pretty much so.

"And in the town also?"-As to that Giuseppe could not answer.

"And is any particular time assigned for the wedding?"-The coming Michaelmas was spoken of, said Giuseppe ; who did not deem fit to add that, according to another version, the marriage was to take place as soon as Signor Vincenzo had finished his studies. Giuseppe was a born diplomatist, and confined himself to the strictly indispensable. In all likelihood he had never heard of the famous "pas de zèle," but he acted up to it.

The Signor Avvocato, when left alone, rubbed, and rubbed again, his partially bald pate. It was pretty certain, that what was the common talk of Rumelli could not but be the talk of Ibella. There was little risk, he perceived, in sounding Barnaby. Barnaby was therefore summoned, and subjected to a cross-examination. His evidence was the counterpart of Giuseppe's, with only this difference-that he was as positive and incisive in his assertions as Giuseppe had been cautious and guarded. Was such a rumour rife at Ibella? Bless his heart! nobody talked of anything else. The whole town applauded the Signor Padrone's choice. It would be a general disappointment if the wedding were delayed till Michaelmas, as some folks said. For his part, Barnaby hoped and trusted that the moment Vincenzo had passed his last examination, the mine would explode the sooner the better. The dear young ones had been on the rack long enough. See how they were pining away. As for Vincenzo, he was mere skin and bone....

"How do you know? You haven't seen him for more than two months."

Barnaby, ignoring the interruption, went on: "And the blessed Signorina! Why, she is only the shadow of her formerself the bloom has left her cheeks-no smiles on her lips. . . ."

"What stuff are you talking?" cried the Signor Avvocato. "Rose is as fresh as a . . . . rose, as plump as a quail, as merry as a bird...."

"Is she? Well, suppose she is; but wait another six months, and see then

what she will have shrunk into. Forewarned, forearmed: marry them at once, I say, or you'll rue it.”

The old gentleman's heart misgave him, that no effort of his could long retard an event, upon the speedy consummation of which public expectation and Barnaby were bent. This impression, like most others, would have faded and died out in course of time, had not that terrible monitor, Barnaby, mounted guard, so to say, to cherish its existence. Barnaby displayed, in this office, the ingenuity and implacability of a Red Indian. Every action of his, however trifling-his very silence-conveyed either a warning or a reproach to his master.

Presently, this latter's anxious incubation entered a second phase, and one far more creditable to his feelings. Was he justified, even though he could do so, in delaying the union of the young couple so long? This new view of the question was suggested to him one day by Rose's unwonted paleness and somewhat drooping appearance. Could it be the beginning of that shrinking into nothing which Barnaby had prophesied ? Rose was as brisk and cherry-cheeked as ever on the morrow, and the fond father laughed himself out of his fears; which, however, did not prevent his relapsing into them, and being overcome by a new qualm the next day, supposing he chanced to see his daughter looking vacantly before her, lost in a deep reverie. Rose, contrary to her habit, had become of late addicted to reverie. Ninety-nine out of a hundred fathers in the same predicament would have questioned their daughter, tried to ascertain the state of her feelings, and then determined upon some course of action; but so plain and obvious a method implied a set purpose, and consequently an effort of will, to which his wavering and procrastinating nature could not bring itself.

If he had only some one to consult, by whose counsel he could feel it safe to abide! But among all his friends in Ibella, there was not one to whose judgment he deferred. That most confirmed of blunderers, Barnaby, he utterly dis

trusted; Don Natale was past giving advice; the ex-Intendente of Ibella was gone. That was a man you might trust with your eyes shut-a man who, for prudence, foresight, and decision, had not his match. While thus bemoaning his isolation, the bright idea flashed through the irresolute gentleman's mind, that the friend he so much missed, was not after all, either bodily or by letter, out of his reach. This friend was at Genoa, and Genoa was not at the end of the world. He would go, by Jove, and pay him a visit-that he would.

This ambitious programme, delayed as usual from day to day, from week to week, dwindled into the modest one of a letter-the writing of which was deferred, of course, to a more convenient hour, begun, left off, taken up again, again discontinued, and . . . . at last completed. The answer came by return of post-we give it literally :

"MY DEAR FRIEND, - Barnaby is right marry them at once. I am of opinion that in all dubious cases you would do well to trust Barnaby's instinct, and act upon it-no beagle scents the hare more surely than he does what is right to do. A girl of near twenty too young to be married! Fiddlesticks ! If you can do it to-day, don't wait till to-morrow. It will be best for all parties for her, whose heart and mind will expand under the influence of a larger mind and heart-for him, whose powers in the hard struggle before him will be increased tenfold by love and happiness -for you, whose old age will be the sooner gladdened by a cluster of lovely little Roses, lisping out 'Grandpapa.' I regret that a world of business prevents me from saying more. I have tried, as you see, to make up for quantity by quality In great haste, yours ever affectionately,

This letter was the wand which broke the spell. To read it, and grow as impatient as he had been hitherto slothfulto conclude this match was for the recipient one and the same thing. With the intuitive consciousness of his weakness, the Signor Avvocato lost no time in putting between his new resolve and the