Ant. Thee will I love, and with thee lead my life;
Thou hast no husband yet, nor I no wife;
Give me thy hand.
COMEDY OF ERRORS.

There was, perhaps, nothing on earth for which Elizabeth Gage would have felt more unmixed contempt, than for an unrequited attachment;—no fate under Heaven from which she would have considered herself more utterly exempt; and yet, to her dismay, she began to suspect that she felt too warm an interest for her father's guest. The fact was, that she had felt this interest and admiration so very long before they met, that it was not now a very easy task to undo these feelings. She merely copied strictly the silence and reserve that distinguished his manner; talked no more than politeness demanded; and at once wished and dreaded the termination of his visit.

He suited Captain Gage admirably, though no two characters could be more opposite. He was less like a sailor than a courtier of Elizabeth's reign. His gravity, his classical tastes, his habits of study, his proficiency in the dead languages, together with that cast of countenance seldom seen but in the age to which it belongs, seemed to stamp him as the companion of Raleigh and Southampton. But he still retained a plainness of speech and directness of purpose that is supposed to be generally indicative of the profession to which he belonged.

He had regained his health in great measure. He did as other people; he joined Elizabeth and her father in their rides and walks; he knew all Captain Gage's tenants; he had been with Elizabeth to the alms-houses; he even carried her basket for her, but always in silence. He had observed her at the head of her father's table, in their large dinner parties; he had gone out with them in return; he had watched the four or five young gentlemen who were pretending timidly to Miss Gage's favour, and the two middle aged men who alternately made her an offer once a quarter.

One sunny morning in August, Elizabeth came into the breakfast-room, where her father was standing by the open glass doors, and having embraced him and taken her place before the urn, she saw Sir Philip at a little distance on the lawn, talking to one of the gardeners.

"My dear father," said she, "have the charity to tell him breakfast is ready, for I am no Beatrice that I should summon him to table."

Captain Gage laughed and made a sign to his friend.

"Have you much of a garden at Sherleigh?" he asked, when they were seated at the table.

"I dare say not," replied Sir Philip, "I have not been there for years, and people seldom attend much to a garden unless there is a lady to overlook them."

"Bessy never does anything to my flowers, except gather them," said Captain Gage.

"What!" said Elizabeth, laughing, "did you find out that I took the red passion-flower yesterday?"

"Yes, I saw it," said her father, "will you write those letters for me after breakfast?"

Elizabeth always wrote her father's business letters. She seated herself at a table and selected pens and paper.

"Papa! I must complain of you," she said, "you take my best envelopes for everybody. Suppose I were to want to send out invitations; I should have nothing but coarse paper left."

"Which? The envelopes with the crest? Oh! I will be careful in future; you are very stingy of your best paper."

"Well, I am to write to Palmer about the meadows, and to Brown about the lease. Anything else?"

"Why I don't know what to do about the bees; if you could send a line to Harding—"

"My dear father, we are fated never to keep bees, but if you have any fancy for the hives—"

"You are a saucy girl; have you written to Palmer?"

"Yes, there it is."

"Excellent. Oh! what does George mean to do about his brown horse?"

"Calypso? He left him here for me to ride during the summer."

"You—ride Calypso—my good child, you will break your neck."

"If you are going to the farm to-day, my dear father, I will prove to you that Calypso can be ridden without such a catastrophe."

"Look here," said her father, taking a letter from a servant, "here are cards for Mrs. Hollingsworth's ball." This was a lady of large fortune in the neighbourhood, whose eldest son was a very persevering admirer of Miss Gage's.

Sir Philip was reading the paper in the window.

"My dear father, I will not go," said Elizabeth in a low but decided tone.

"Why, Bessy, how is that?" said her father, looking much amused, "Mrs. Hollingsworth's balls are excellent, and there is Charles Hollingsworth for your partner."

"My dear father, I will not subject myself to the annoyance of being in his company," said Elizabeth in the same low tone, "I consider myself very much aggrieved by that person."

"Why, my dear, he would make you an offer to-morrow, if you would give him any hope."

"But do you not see," said Elizabeth, "that he owes it to me to give me the power to put a stop to his attentions, if they are unpleasing to me. There is something of cowardice in subjecting one, without ceasing, to civilities which must end in nothing, but which, in the meantime, cause a great deal of gossip, and which a woman has no power to arrest except by a refusal. I consider myself," said she, half laughing, "very unjustly treated by Mr. Hollingsworth."

"And Mrs. Hollingsworth has the match so much at heart," said Captain Gage, taking up the note which accompanied the cards; "here you see she begs us to dine and dress at her house. Offers beds: but you are made of flint."

"She does not offer to send Mr. Charles out of the way," said Elizabeth, "do not go, my dear father, for my sake."

"And here is a card for Sir Philip," continued Captain Gage, "what say you d'Eyncourt, have you any fancy to go to this ball?"

"If Miss Gage had intended to go," said Sir Philip, looking up from the paper with his usual gravity, "I should have liked to see her dance; but as she declines I shall be obliged to you to include me in your refusal."

"No one has seen me dance within the memory of man, Sir Philip," said Elizabeth, smiling, "I walk through one quadrille always for form's sake."

"Well then, Bessy, write a civil refusal, full of regrets," said Captain Gage, laying the note before her, "I must go and speak to Meadows about the carriage horses."

She took up a pen. Sir Philip drew his chair nearer to hers.

"How shall you decline?" he asked.

Elizabeth thought him rather curious, but as he was partly interested in the matter, she replied at once:

"I shall be able to tell her fortunately, that we are expecting some friends to stay with us the week after next."

"And if she should invite the friends?"

"Nay, that would be very malicious," said Elizabeth, laughing. "But supposing such a case," said Sir Philip.

"Still fortune favours me," said Elizabeth, "for the friends we expect are an elderly couple, who certainly would not go to a ball."

"If the lady has a great interest in your coming, I think she would hardly give you up so easily," remarked Sir Philip.

"Ah! Sir Philip," said Elizabeth turning to him with a smile and a blush, "you chanced to hear what my father and I were talking about. Happily there is no one whom I should so little regret overhearing us."

"And why so?"

"Because, in the first place, it is a subject which will not interest you sufficiently to dwell on your memory; and secondly, anything of that nature I am confident would be as safe with you as with ourselves."

"Miss Gage," said Sir Philip, looking earnestly at her, "I am a great many years older than you."

"That you must be," said Elizabeth, "for I remember you grown up when I was a child; yet you see how little difference there is now. You were alluding to the ball, were you not? You have outlived your taste for dancing, and I always felt too old for it."

"Permit me," said Sir Philip, surveying her still more earnestly, "to ask if you are disengaged."

"Perfectly; as soon as I have sealed this note," said Elizabeth, lighting the taper. "Do you think of going to S—— this morning? You can see the Cathedral, but you will be too late for service; you had better defer it till to-morrow."

But while she was speaking, she turned her head away to avoid his grave regard, a drop of wax fell on her finger.

"There!" said Sir Philip, taking her hand and examining it attentively, "you have burnt your finger. How very careless; you were not looking at what you were doing."

"True," said Elizabeth, smiling at the blunt way in which he showed his interest; "it is a trick I have of burning my fingers when I seal letters; and to-day is Friday, I must tell, papa. He is very superstitious about Fridays."

"Tell him also that I love you sincerely," said Sir Philip, "that I demand of him this hand; that I do not know how to recommend myself to you, and that he must therefore be my friend."

"You, Sir Philip, I cannot express to you my astonishment."

"I wonder who could remain for three weeks in a house with you," said Sir Philip, with a blunt admiration in his look and voice, "without coming to the same pass. You are not angry."

"No, Sir Philip," she replied.

"You are all candour, I know you would speak the truth at once. I am more happy than I dared to hope," said her companion.

Elizabeth smiled and looked down.

"Well, now," said Sir Philip, taking both her hands, "will you have the goodness to fix a day for our marriage? You see I am ordered abroad for my health, and naturally I wish to take you with me."

"Really, Sir Philip," said Elizabeth, "you are too hasty; consider how short a time we have known each other."

"I have known Captain Gage a long time," said Sir Philip, "I was his first lieutenant when he was on the West India station; that is the same thing. How many times I have said to myself, 'I will marry Gage's daughter; if she will not have me, it is easy for me to remain single.'"

Elizabeth started. How often had she, in rejecting her lovers, said in her turn, "until I meet with some one like Sir Philip d'Eyncourt, I will never marry."

"And yet you did not recollect me, that evening," said she.

"I expressed myself badly," he replied, "I meant that I could not trace any resemblance between what you were, and what I now find you. You were a very nice little girl: you are, a beautiful woman."

"And you have learned to flatter," said Elizabeth blushing.

"No, it is just my opinion, now I am going to find your father. It seems quite singular to ask Gage to accept me as a son-in-law. He is not a dozen years older than I am."

A few weeks after this conversation, Captain Gage had the satisfaction of bestowing his daughter's hand upon Sir Philip d'Eyncourt: and a few days afterwards, Margaret who had officiated as one of the bridesmaids, accompanied her uncle to the sea-side; for he had at last consented to listen to his physician, and to consider his illness of importance.