tters.

* * * * *

Well, Mr. George Somers is actually arrived at Mrs. Grey's country seat,
and there he sits with Miss Isabella in the deep recess of that window,
where the white roses are peeping in so modestly.

"To be sure," thought Fanny to herself, as she quietly surveyed him
looming up through the shade of a pair of magnificent whiskers, and
heard him passing the shuttlecock of compliment back and forth with the
most assured and practised air in the world,--"to be sure, I was a child
in imagining that I should see Cousin George Somers. I'm sure this
magnificent young gentleman, full of all utterance and knowledge, is not
the cousin that I used to feel so easy with; no, indeed;" and Fanny gave
a half sigh, and then went out into the garden to water her geraniums.

For some days Mr. Somers seemed to feel put upon his reputation to
sustain the character of gallant, _savant, connoisseur_, etc.., which
every one who makes the tour of the continent is expected to bring home
as a matter of course; for there is seldom a young gentleman who knows
he has qualifications in this line, who can resist the temptation of
showing what he can do. Accordingly he discussed tragedies, and reviews,
and ancient and modern customs with Miss Emma; and with Miss Isabella
retouched her drawings and exhibited his own; sported the most choice
and _recherche_ style of compliment at every turn, and, in short,
flattered himself, perhaps justly, that he was playing the irresistible
in a manner quite equal to that of his fair cousins.

Now, all this while Miss Fanny was mistaken in one point, for Mr. George
Somers, though an exceedingly fine gentleman, had, after all, quite a
substratum of reality about him, of real heart, real feeling, and real
opinion of his own; and the consequence was, that when tired of the
effort of _conversing_ he really longed to find somebody to _talk_ to;
and in this mood he one evening strolled into the library, leaving the
gay party in the drawing room to themselves. Miss Fanny was there, quite
intent upon a book of selections from the old English poets.

"Really, Miss Fanny," said Mr. Somers, "you are very sparing of the
favor of your company to us this evening."

"O, I presume my company is not much missed," said Fanny, with a smile.

"You must have a poor opinion of our taste, then," said Mr. Somers.

"Come, come, Mr. Somers," replied Fanny, "you forget the person you are
tal