October 1st. - All is settled now. My father has given hisconsent, and the time is fixed for Christmas, by a sort ofcompromise between the respective advocates for hurry and delay.Milicent Hargrave is to be one bridesmaid and Annabella Wilmot theother - not that I am particularly fond of the latter, but she isan intimate of the family, and I have not another friend.

When I told Milicent of my engagement, she rather provoked me byher manner of talking it. After staring a moment in mute surprise,she said, - 'Well, Helen, I suppose I ought to congratulate you -and I am glad to see you so happy; but I did not think you wouldtake him; and I can't help feeling surprised that you should likehim so much.'

'Why so?'

'Because you are so superior to him in every way, and there'ssomething so bold and reckless about him - so, I don't know how -but I always feel a wish to get out of his way when I see himapproach.'

'You are timid, Milicent; but that's no fault of his.'

'And then his look,' continued she. 'People say he's handsome, andof course he is; but I don't like that kind of beauty, and I wonderthat you should.'

'Why so, pray?'

'Well, you know, I think there's nothing noble or lofty in hisappearance.'

'In fact, you wonder that I can like any one so unlike the stiltedheroes of romance. Well, give me my flesh and blood lover, andI'll leave all the Sir Herberts and Valentines to you - if you canfind them.'

'I don't want them,' said she. 'I'll be satisfied with flesh andblood too - only the spirit must shine through and predominate.But don't you think Mr. Huntingdon's face is too red?'

'No!' cried I, indignantly. 'It is not red at all. There is justa pleasant glow, a healthy freshness in his complexion - the warm,pinky tint of the whole harmonising with the deeper colour of thecheeks, exactly as it ought to do. I hate a man to be red andwhite, like a painted doll, or all sickly white, or smoky black, orcadaverous yellow.'

'Well, tastes differ - but I like pale or dark,' replied she.'But, to tell you the truth, Helen, I had been deluding myself withthe hope that you would one day be my sister. I expected Walterwould be introduced to you next season; and I thought you wouldlike him, and was certain he would like you; and I flattered myselfI should thus have the felicity of seeing the two persons I likebest in the world - except mamma - united in one. He mayn't beexactly what you would call handsome, but he's far moredistinguished-looking, and nicer and better than Mr. Huntingdon; -and I'm sure you would say so, if you knew him.'

'Impossible, Milicent! You think so, because you're his sister;and, on that account, I'll forgive you; but nobody else should sodisparage Arthur Huntingdon to me with impunity.'

Miss Wilmot expressed her feelings on the subject almost as openly.

'And so, Helen,' said she, coming up to me with a smile of noamiable import, 'you are to be Mrs. Huntingdon, I suppose?'

'Yes,' replied I. 'Don't you envy me?'

'Oh, dear, no!' she exclaimed. 'I shall probably be LadyLowborough some day, and then you know, dear, I shall be in acapacity to inquire, "Don't you envy me?"'

'Henceforth I shall envy no one,' returned I.

'Indeed! Are you so happy then?' said she, thoughtfully; andsomething very like a cloud of disappointment shadowed her face.'And does he love you - I mean, does he idolise you as much as youdo him?' she added, fixing her eyes upon me with ill-disguisedanxiety for the reply.

'I don't want to be idolised,' I answered; 'but I am well assuredthat he loves me more than anybody else in the world - as I dohim.'

'Exactly,' said she, with a nod. 'I wish - ' she paused.

'What do you wish?' asked I, annoyed at the vindictive expressionof her countenance.

'I wish,' returned, she, with a short laugh, 'that all theattractive points and desirable qualifications of the two gentlemenwere united in one - that Lord Lowborough had Huntingdon's handsomeface and good temper, and all his wit, and mirth and charm, or elsethat Huntingdon had Lowborough's pedigree, and title, anddelightful old family seat, and I had him; and you might have theother and welcome.'

'Thank you, dear Annabella: I am better satisfied with things asthey are, for my own part; and for you, I wish you were as wellcontent with your intended as I am with mine,' said I; and it wastrue enough; for, though vexed at first at her unamiable spirit,her frankness touched me, and the contrast between our situationswas such, that I could well afford to pity her and wish her well.

Mr. Huntingdon's acquaintances appear to be no better pleased withour approaching union than mine. This morning's post brought himletters from several of his friends, during the perusal of which,at the breakfast-table, he excited the attention of the company bythe singular variety of his grimaces. But he crushed them all intohis pocket, with a private laugh, and said nothing till the mealwas concluded. Then, while the company were hanging over the fireor loitering through the room, previous to settling to theirvarious morning avocations, he came and leant over the back of mychair, with his face in contact with my curls, and commencing witha quiet little kiss, poured forth the following complaints into myear:-

'Helen, you witch, do you know that you've entailed upon me thecurses of all my friends? I wrote to them the other day, to tellthem of my happy prospects, and now, instead of a bundle ofcongratulations, I've got a pocketful of bitter execrations andreproaches. There's not one kind wish for me, or one good word foryou, among them all. They say there'll be no more fun now, no moremerry days and glorious nights - and all my fault - I am the firstto break up the jovial band, and others, in pure despair, willfollow my example. I was the very life and prop of the community,they do me the honour to say, and I have shamefully betrayed mytrust - '

'You may join them again, if you like,' said I, somewhat piqued atthe sorrowful tone of his discourse. 'I should be sorry to standbetween any man - or body of men, and so much happiness; andperhaps I can manage to do without you, as well as your poordeserted friends.'

'Bless you, no,' murmured he. 'It's "all for love or the worldwell lost," with me. Let them go to - where they belong, to speakpolitely. But if you saw how they abuse me, Helen, you would loveme all the more for having ventured so much for your sake.'

He pulled out his crumpled letters. I thought he was going to showthem to me, and told him I did not wish to see them.

'I'm not going to show them to you, love,' said he. 'They'rehardly fit for a lady's eyes - the most part of them. But lookhere. This is Grimsby's scrawl - only three lines, the sulky dog!He doesn't say much, to be sure, but his very silence implies morethan all the others' words, and the less he says, the more hethinks - and this is Hargrave's missive. He is particularlygrieved at me, because, forsooth he had fallen in love with youfrom his sister's reports, and meant to have married you himself,as soon as he had sown his wild oats.'

'I'm vastly obliged to him,' observed I.

'And so am I,' said he. 'And look at this. This is Hattersley's -every page stuffed full of railing accusations, bitter curses, andlamentable complaints, ending up with swearing that he'll getmarried himself in revenge: he'll throw himself away on the firstold maid that chooses to set her cap at him, - as if I cared whathe did with himself.'

'Well,' said I, 'if you do give up your intimacy with these men, Idon't think you will have much cause to regret the loss of theirsociety; for it's my belief they never did you much good.'

'Maybe not; but we'd a merry time of it, too, though mingled withsorrow and pain, as Lowborough knows to his cost - Ha, ha!' andwhile he was laughing at the recollection of Lowborough's troubles,my uncle came and slapped him on the shoulder.

'Come, my lad!' said he. 'Are you too busy making love to my nieceto make war with the pheasants? - First of October, remember! Sunshines out - rain ceased - even Boarham's not afraid to venture inhis waterproof boots; and Wilmot and I are going to beat you all.I declare, we old 'uns are the keenest sportsmen of the lot!'

'I'll show you what I can do to-day, however,' said my companion.'I'll murder your birds by wholesale, just for keeping me away frombetter company than either you or them.'

And so saying he departed; and I saw no more of him till dinner.It seemed a weary time; I wonder what I shall do without him.

It is very true that the three elder gentlemen have provedthemselves much keener sportsmen than the two younger ones; forboth Lord Lowborough and Arthur Huntingdon have of late almostdaily neglected the shooting excursions to accompany us in ourvarious rides and rambles. But these merry times are fast drawingto a close. In less than a fortnight the party break up, much tomy sorrow, for every day I enjoy it more and more - now thatMessrs. Boarham and Wilmot have ceased to tease me, and my aunt hasceased to lecture me, and I have ceased to be jealous of Annabella- and even to dislike her - and now that Mr. Huntingdon is becomemy Arthur, and I may enjoy his society without restraint. Whatshall I do without him, I repeat?