iveness, though it invested me with an outward decency of
deportment, fostered a mental hypocrisy and self deception, far more
destructive to true godliness than the most reckless vivacity.

Mr. Abel entertained a high respect for me--I was the model young man of
the parish; and where-ever he went, he spoke in terms of approbation of
my talents, my integrity, my filial duty to my mother, and the laudable
efforts I was making to raise myself in society. This was all very
gratifying to my vanity. I firmly believed in the verity of my own
goodness, and considered the good curate only did me justice.

Our conversation often turned on religious matters, but my orthodoxy was
so correct, my outward conduct so unimpeachable, that my title to piety
of a superior cast made not the least item in the long catalogue of my
virtues. And the heart all this time,--that veiled and guarded heart,
whose motions none ever looked upon or suspected--was a blank moral
desert; a spot in which every corrupt weed had ample space to spread and
grow without let or hindrance.

As long as Mr. Abel remained in F----, I maintained the reputation I had
acquired; and long after he left us, I was a regular church-goer, and
prosecuted my studies both at home and abroad. At that time my personal
appearance was greatly in my favour; and I was vain of my natural
advantages. I loved to dress better, and appear as if I belonged to a
higher grade than my village associates. This could not be done without
involving considerable expense. I kept a handsome horse, and carried a
handsome gun; and I flattered myself, that when dressed in my green
velvet shooting jacket, white cords, top boots, and with my hunting cap
placed jauntily on my head, I was as handsome and gentlemanly-looking a
young fellow as could be found in that part of the country.

I had just completed my twenty-third year when Miss Ella made her
appearance once more at the hall. She was no longer a pretty child, but
had grown into a lovely and accomplished woman. A feeling of despair
mingled with my admiration when she rode past me in the park,
accompanied by a young gentleman and an elderly lady.

The gentleman was a younger brother, who afterwards died in India; the
lady was her mother. Miss Ella was mounted on a spirited horse, which
she sat to perfection, her nobly proportioned figure displayed to the
best advantage by her elegant and closely fitting dark blue riding
habit.

After they passe