say, give me the girl I love, and I will swear eternal constancy to her
and her alone, through summer and winter, through youth and age, and life
and death! if age and death must come.'

He spoke this in such serious earnest that my heart bounded with delight;
but the minute after he changed his tone, and asked, with a significant
smile, if I had 'any more portraits.'

'No,' replied I, reddening with confusion and wrath.

But my portfolio was on the table: he took it up, and coolly sat down to
examine its contents.

'Mr. Huntingdon, those are my unfinished sketches,' cried I, 'and I never
let any one see them.'

And I placed my hand on the portfolio to wrest it from him, but he
maintained his hold, assuring me that he 'liked unfinished sketches of
all things.'

'But I hate them to be seen,' returned I. 'I can't let you have it,
indeed!'

'Let me have its bowels then,' said he; and just as I wrenched the
portfolio from his hand, he deftly abstracted the greater part of its
contents, and after turning them over a moment he cried out,--'Bless my
stars, here's another;' and slipped a small oval of ivory paper into his
waistcoat pocket--a complete miniature portrait that I had sketched with
such tolerable success as to be induced to colour it with great pains and
care. But I was determined he should not keep it.

'Mr. Huntingdon,' cried I, 'I insist upon having that back! It is mine,
and you have no right to take it. Give it me directly--I'll never
forgive you if you don't!'

But the more vehemently I insisted, the more he aggravated my distress by
his insulting, gleeful laugh. At length, however, he restored it to me,
saying,--'Well, well, since you value it so much, I'll not deprive you of
it.'

To show him how I valued it, I tore it in two and threw it into the fire.
He was not prepared for this. His merriment suddenly ceasing, he stared
in mute amazement at the consuming treasure; and then, with a careless
'Humph! I'll go and shoot now,' he turned on his heel and vacated the
apartment by the window as he came, and setting on his hat with an air,
took up his gun and walked away, whistling as he went--and leaving me not
too much agitated to finish my picture, for I was glad, at the moment,
that I had vexed him.

When I returned to the drawing-room, I found Mr. Boarham had ventured to
follow his comrades to the field; and shortly after lunch, to which they
did not think of returning, I volunteered to a