ho, on looking round the room, thought that the
people assembled there were peculiarly ill-assorted.

"As for happiness," continued Mr Maguire, "that is not to be looked
for from society. They who expect their social hours to be happy
hours will be grievously disappointed."

"Are you not happy at Mrs Stumfold's?"

"At Mrs Stumfold's? Yes;--sometimes, that is; but even there I always
seem to want something. Miss Mackenzie, has it never occurred to you
that the one thing necessary in this life, the one thing--beyond a
hope for the next, you know, the one thing is--ah, Miss Mackenzie,
what is it?"

"Perhaps you mean a competence," said Miss Mackenzie.

"I mean some one to love," said Mr Maguire.

As he spoke he looked with all the poetic vigour of his better eye
full into Miss Mackenzie's face, and Miss Mackenzie, who then could
see nothing of the other eye, felt the effect of the glance somewhat
as he intended that she should feel it. When a lady who is thinking
about getting married is asked by a gentleman who is frequently
in her thoughts whether she does not want some one to love, it is
natural that she should presume that he means to be particular; and
it is natural also that she should be in some sort gratified by that
particularity. Miss Mackenzie was, I think, gratified, but she did
not express any such feeling.

"Is not that your idea also?" said he,--"some one to love; is not
that the great desideratum here below!" And the tone in which he
repeated the last words was by no means ineffective.

"I hope everybody has that," said she.

"I fear not; not anyone to love with a perfect love. Who does Miss
Todd love?"

"Miss Baker."

"Does she? And yet they live apart, and rarely see each other. They
think differently on all subjects. That is not the love of which I am
speaking. And you, Miss Mackenzie, are you sure that you love anyone
with that perfect all-trusting, love?"

"I love my niece Susanna best," said she.

"Your niece, Susanna! She is a sweet child, a sweet girl; she has
everything to make those love her who know her; but--"

"You don't think anything amiss of Susanna, Mr Maguire?"

"Nothing, nothing; Heaven forbid, dear child! And I think so highly
of you for your generosity in adopting her."

"I could not do less than take one of them, Mr Maguire."

"But I meant a different kind of love from that. Do you feel that
your regard for your niece is sufficient to fill your heart?"

"It make