nners--these had greatly lowered him in their esteem, especially of
the girls, for old Miss Grainger, with a traditional respect for his
name and family, held to him far more than the others.

"What a fool I was ever to have brought the fellow here! What downright
folly it was in me to have let them ever know him. Is it too late,
however, to remedy this? Can I not yet undo some of this mischief?" This
was a new thought, and it filled his mind till he landed. As he drew
quite close to the shore he saw that the little awning-covered boat,
in which the ladies occasionally made excursions on the lake, was now
anchored under a large drooping ash, and that Loyd and the girls were on
board of her. Loyd was reading to them; at least so the continuous and
equable tone of his voice indicated, as it rose in the thin and silent
air. Miss Grainger was not there--and this was a fortunate thing--for
now he should have his opportunity to talk with her alone, and probably
ascertain to what extent Loyd's representations had damaged him.

He walked up to the villa, and entered the drawing-room, as he was wont,
by one of the windows that opened on the green sward without. There
was no one in the room, but a half-written letter, on which the ink was
still fresh, showed that the writer had only left it at the instant. His
eye caught the words, "Dear and Reverend Sir," and in the line beneath
the name Loyd. The temptation was too strong, and he read on:

"Dear and Reverend Sir,--I hasten to express my entire
satisfaction with the contents of your letter. Your son, Mr.
Loyd, has most faithfully represented his position and his
prospects, and, although my niece might possibly have placed
her chances of happiness in the hands of a wealthier suitor,
I am fully assured she never could have met with one whose
tastes, pursuits, and general disposition--"

A sound of coming feet startled him, and he had but time to throw
himself on a sofa, when Miss Grainger entered. Her manner was
cordial--fully as cordial as usual--perhaps a little more so, since,
in the absence of her nieces, she was free to express the instinctive
regard she felt towards all that bore his name.

"How was it that you did not come with Loyd?" asked she.

"I was busy, writing letters I believe--congratulations on Sophy's
approaching marriage; but what did Loyd say--was that the reason he
gave?"

"He gave none. He said he took a whim into his