observe that his manner towards him was less frank than formerly. The
truth is, that the old man was a good deal alarmed for his daughter,
whom he had warned to discourage his addresses; and, although desirous
to treat him with kindness, endeavoured to avoid everything which might
seem an approval of his suit. Jones had the good sense not to prolong
his visit; and, after cordially repeating his thanks for the various
acts of kindness he had experienced, rose up and took his leave.

To her poor lover, Miss Manners had never appeared so lovely as on this
occasion. He left the house with the intention of never beholding her
more; but scarcely had he quitted her presence, than he felt that to
remain long away were impossible. Her beauty; her goodness; her kind
words; her kinder looks; all--all rushed to his mind; and his feelings,
which had been somewhat calmed by his illness, acquired even more than
their wonted fire. Day after day, as he continued to gather strength, he
revisited all his old haunts, and felt as if he had just returned from a
sojourn in a distant land. Everything was new and fresh; but, with every
scene, old feelings were associated. To him Miss Manners was still the
presiding genius of the place, from whom it derived all its beauty, and
to whom the worship of his heart was involuntarily offered.

Meanwhile, Miss Manners had received strict injunctions from her father
not to receive his visits except when he himself was at home. To this
course he had been urged, not so much by his own feelings towards him,
as by the advice of his friends. Indeed, Jones was rather a favourite
with him. He would willingly have done much to serve him; and yet, when
the happiness of his daughter was at stake, he often reflected on the
awful consequences which might ensue, if he were really the guilty
wretch whom so many suspected he was.

About this time a circumstance occurred, which put an end to his doubts.

Among those who mourned the unhappy fate of the poor village maiden,
the grief of her lover, George Merrideth, had been observed to be the
wildest. For some days, he had wandered about like one demented; and
all who witnessed, respected and commiserated his anguish. Latterly,
however, he had disappeared entirely from the public view; and it was
hinted by some, that his mind had been seriously affected by the
occurrence. One morning, Mr. Manners was suddenly sent for to attend at
his deathbed. When he entered, the pat