er
amusement duly moderate. Poor young Plymdale had lingered with
admiration over this very engraving, and his spirit was stirred.

"There are a great many celebrated people writing in the 'Keepsake,' at
all events," he said, in a tone at once piqued and timid. "This is the
first time I have heard it called silly."

"I think I shall turn round on you and accuse you of being a Goth,"
said Rosamond, looking at Lydgate with a smile. "I suspect you know
nothing about Lady Blessington and L. E. L." Rosamond herself was not
without relish for these writers, but she did not readily commit
herself by admiration, and was alive to the slightest hint that
anything was not, according to Lydgate, in the very highest taste.

"But Sir Walter Scott--I suppose Mr. Lydgate knows him," said young
Plymdale, a little cheered by this advantage.

"Oh, I read no literature now," said Lydgate, shutting the book, and
pushing it away. "I read so much when I was a lad, that I suppose it
will last me all my life. I used to know Scott's poems by heart."

"I should like to know when you left off," said Rosamond, "because then
I might be sure that I knew something which you did not know."

"Mr. Lydgate would say that was not worth knowing," said Mr. Ned,
purposely caustic.

"On the contrary," said Lydgate, showing no smart; but smiling with
exasperating confidence at Rosamond. "It would be worth knowing by the
fact that Miss Vincy could tell it me."

Young Plymdale soon went to look at the whist-playing, thinking that
Lydgate was one of the most conceited, unpleasant fellows it had ever
been his ill-fortune to meet.

"How rash you are!" said Rosamond, inwardly delighted. "Do you see
that you have given offence?"

"What! is it Mr. Plymdale's book? I am sorry. I didn't think about
it."

"I shall begin to admit what you said of yourself when you first came
here--that you are a bear, and want teaching by the birds."

"Well, there is a bird who can teach me what she will. Don't I listen
to her willingly?"

To Rosamond it seemed as if she and Lydgate were as good as engaged.
That they were some time to be engaged had long been an idea in her
mind; and ideas, we know, tend to a more solid kind of existence, the
necessary materials being at hand. It is true, Lydgate had the
counter-idea of remaining unengaged; but this was a mere negative, a
shadow east by other resolves which themselves were capable of
shrinking. Circumstance was