"He told the truth there," said Lizzie, with a kind of indignant triumph. "He will find me rather harder to manage than he thinks. But at any rate, I'll enjoy myself till he does come," and the young lady's countenance, which had looked somewhat unamiable for the past few minutes, resumed its usual good-natured expression, as she ran lightly down stairs with her brother.

The next day brought the dreaded Mr. Fisher, and as Lizzie heard the sound of his footsteps, ascending the steps of the verandah, she hastily retreated into the parlor, resolved to wait until the last moment before she made her appearance, while Master Charles ran down the steps, in high glee, to meet him, and the sound of a very winning voice, chatting pleasantly with the little fellow, fell rather strangely on her ear.

"Our Lizzie's come!" said Charley, triumphantly, as he entered the hall with his friend.

"Has she, indeed ?" rejoined Mr. Fisher, kindly. "I am glad to hear it. I want to see her."

"I am afraid she don't want to see you," said Charley, regretfully. "I told her you was going to live with us, and she said she was dreadful sorry. Just now, I expect she ran up stairsno, she's here," and in happy unconsciousness of having been heard to say any thing which could possibly be productive of embarrassment to either party, he suddenly ushered Mr. Fisher into the presence of Lizzie, who with a face like scarlet had started for the opposite door, and was just half a moment too late to make her escape.

"Lizzie, this is Mr. Fisher," said Charley, in a tone of voice which seemed to indicate that there never was, and never could be, another Mr. Fisher, in the world, while his luckless sister, who had heard every word of his remarks in the hall, looked up with a half intelligible attempt at a greeting, and then colored more deeply than ever from surprise, as her eyes rested upon the frank, handsome face of the dreaded guest, and read in the almost mischievous glance of his penetrating eyes, that he was aware that she had overheard Charley. The entrance of Mrs. Selwyn relieved her from her embarrassment, and before the dinner hour was over, she found her prejudices rapidly vanishing. There was something so winning in his tones and manner, in the sentiments he advanced, something so gentle and serious in the ex

pression of his eye, that she found herself involuntarily making comparisons between him and his predecessor, which it is hardly necessary to say, were extremely disadvantageous to the last named individual. She even came to the conclusion, that if he should undertake to dictate a little respecting her pursuits, it would not be so very disagreeable after all, and as a proof that she valued his good opinion, she took Charley aside after dinner, and positively forbade him to repeat any more of her remarks to Mr. Fisher.

Day after day passed on, and brought the young friends that Lizzie had invited to visit her; and though in spite of some misgivings respecting the minister, there was a great deal of talking and laughing, and various excursions, and walks by morning and moonlight. Mr. Fisher seemed to think it all a matter of course, and when one morning one of them suggested that it would be a delightful day for a pic-nic, and Lizzie looked with some alarm at the minister, expecting to hear him at once avow his disapproval of such proceedings, she was absolutely astounded to hear him say, in a tone of interest, that it was just the day for a pic-nic, and as he was obliged to leave the village on some pastoral business, he would carry their baskets in his carriage to the place they had appointed.

One evening, however, the young ladies were invited to a ball, which was to be held in a neighboring village. Lizzie had never attended such a place of amusement, but her friends had, and they gave such a glowing description of the pleasure to be enjoyed, that her curiosity and interest were all aroused. It was to be held in the evening of a public day, and many of her acquaintances from adjacent towns were to be present, besides a certain Walter Langdon, the brother of one of her school-mates, whom she had once or twice met, and who was more than suspected of quite a partiality for her; and so Lizzie, not without some misgivings, ventured to ask her parents' permission. She was not surprised to hear them deny her request; but still she fancied that had Mr. Fisher been absent, and had he not declared his objection to that species of amusement, so decidedly, when his opinions were consulted, she might have gained their consent to attend-"just for once," as she said-and, therefore, when her young friends, who being visitors were at liberty to follow their

own inclinations, had departed in high glee for their place of destination, she retired to her own room, to spend a solitary evening, resolving to make herself as disagreeable to Mr. Fisher as possible, and wishing most heartily that the parsonage was completed, and he finally established in it. There was a kind of satisfaction she felt too, whose source she did not stop to ascertain, when on that evening he produced a new and interesting book, and avowed his intention of reading it aloud to the family-she saw an expression, very much like disappointment, cross his face, as when he seated himself by the table, with the book, she hastily gathered up her worsted work, and left the room.

How true it is, that, sometimes, any slight grievance from another, one in which our wishes are thwarted, will completely overshadow for a time, in our estimation, all former favors that person may have rendered us. So it was with Lizzie. His disapprobation of the whole affair in which her anticipations, hopes and wishes had been centred, completely changed, for a time, her favorable opinion of him, and in her now distorted view, even the very sermons with which she had been so much delighted the preceding Sabbath, and which, with their glowing inspiration, warm with the ardent feelings of the heart, had suddenly opened to her views of her own accountability, and a conviction that she had a nobler part to perform in life, than the aimless existence of the mere butterfly of wealth and fashion-these very sermons, which had also gratified her naturally fine taste, were now denounced as common-place, and the reflections they had awakened were resolutely thrust from her memory. But with her honest convictions of right and wrong, we will not deny that she felt very unhappy, and completely dissatisfied with herself before the evening was over; but the return of her friends, accompanied by Walter Langdon, the next morning, with their glowing descriptions of the brilliant scene, and their enjoyment of its festivity, together with his condolences at her disappointment, awakened her dissatisfaction once more. She resolved to make herself as unsocial as possible, as far as Mr. Fisher was concerned, and she made her displeasure so apparent to him, that although he made several attempts to conciliate her, conscious that he had only done his duty in the matter, he was at last obliged to relinquish his efforts as fruitless.

Thus several days passed on, until her young visitors left her, but Walter Langdon still remained in the village, and his atten. tions were so constant and flattering, that Lizzie, almost unconsciously to herself, became more interested in him than she cared to acknowledge. Walter Langdon was a young man who possessed a certain fascination of manner, an appearance of being perfectly absorbed in the individual he was addressing, which to one new to the world or conscious of personal attractions, was very gratifying. He had that insinuating address, also, which clothes even vice in an attractive form, and though he did not openly scoff at religion, there was a certain something in his manner, when speaking of serious subjects, which proved him no less a sceptic at heart, than the openly avowed unbeliever, so that while Lizzie was fascinated by the elegance and insinuating grace of his manner, she could not help acknowledging to herself that he was a dangerous companion.

What, going out again, my dear !" said Mrs. Selwyn, looking up from her sewing, as her daughter entered the sitting room one morning, equipped in bonnet and shawl.

"Why, yes, mamma,” replied Lizzie, "I forgot to tell you that I had promised Mr. Langdon to ride with him this morning to the Lake."

"I am sorry you promised to ride with him,” said Mrs. Selwyn. "He seems to be becoming a very frequent visitor here. Be very cautious, my dear, how you encourage an acquaintance with him. Mr. Fisher tells me that he knew him in college, and does not seem to have a very fa—.”

"Of course, Mr. Fisher would have something to say about it," interrupted Lizzie. "I am sure I wish most heartily that the parsonage was done, and he was settled in it. I have not had any peace since he has been in the house."

Mrs. Selwyn looked up in amazement at these words, but the expression of surprise on her countenance was nothing in comparison with the mingled astonishment and mortification which overspread Lizzie's face with the deepest hue of crimson, for there, just outside the open window, in the verandah, sat Mr. Fisher, with his book, and as for a second his eyes rested on her, she read plainly that he had overheard her remark, which had been made in a louder key than usual.

The flush of wounded feeling had mounted to his usually pale cheek, and it was with a feeling of shame and self-reproach she had never experienced before, that Lizzie hastened out of the room without another word. She hastily ran up stairs, and selecting her writing materials, despatched a note to the village, while Mr. Fisher, knowing that Mrs. Selwyn was unconscious of his proximity, waited until a favorable opportunity to make his retreat, and as Lizzie descended from her room, she saw him passing out of the gate, which opened upon the highway.

"I believe I shall not go to ride with Mr. Langdon, after all, mamma," said Lizzie, entering the sitting-room again. "I have sent him word that he must excuse me to day, but I think I will go and see old Sally instead."

"I am glad you have made up your mind not to go with him, though you seem to make resolutions very suddenly," said Mrs. Selwyn. "I think you have done right," she added approvingly, for although a young man of fine appearance and of good family, the little I have seen of him has, I confess, impressed me somewhat unfavorably, and what Mr. Fisher happened to mention incidentally respecting him, this morning, made me anxious about his acquaintance with you."

"What did he say about him?" asked Lizzie, affecting a tone of indifference which she certainly did not feel, for her cheek crimsoned again, and she cast a hasty glance toward the window.

"Why," rejoined Mrs. Selwyn, "Mr. Langdon's name was mentioned, and though Mr. Fisher spoke highly of his talents, he said he should consider him a dangerous companion for a sister of his-for he knew him to be perfectly heartless. In college he had professed attachment for two or three individuals, and had formed matrimonial engagements with them, only to break them for new ones, while his reputation, otherwise, was not a very exalted one."

Lizzie said nothing, and her mother proceeded to fill a basket with various articles for old Sally, while the young lady equipped for her walk, remarked that she should perhaps stop at her cousin's and dine, and then taking the basket, she wished her mother good morning, and tripping down the steps and the gravelled walk, she opened the gate into the highway, and was soon lost to sight.Old Sally was an infirm and aged woman, who lived some little distance out of the village. The family of Mr. Selwyn had been