od, so rich, so liberal too,
with only one daughter, should allow you, her adopted child, to devote
your young hours to the drudgery of teaching. It seems so unnecessary,
so inconsistent with her usual munificence of action."

The glow of wounded pride warmed my cheek. I had become happy in my
vocation, but I could not bear to hear it depreciated, nor the motives
of my benefactress misunderstood and misrepresented.

"Mrs. Linwood is as wise as she is kind," I answered, hastily. "It is my
happiness and good she consults, not her own pleasure. Giving does not
impoverish either her ample purse or her generous heart. She knows my
nature, knows that I could not bear the stagnation of a life of
luxurious ease."

"Edith can,--why not you?"

"We are so different. She was born for the position she occupies. She is
one of the lilies of the valley, that toil not, neither do they spin,
yet they fulfil a lovely mission. Do not try to make me discontented
with a lot, so full of blessings, Richard. Surely no orphan girl was
ever more tenderly cherished, more abundantly cared for."

"Discontented!" he exclaimed, "heaven forbid! I must be a wretched
blunderer. I am saying something wrong all the time, with a heart full
of most excellent intentions. Discontented! no, indeed; I have only the
unfortunate habit of speaking before I think. I shall grow wiser as I
grow older, I trust."

He reached up to a branch that bent over the way-side, and breaking it
off, began to strip it of its green leaves and scatter them in the path.

"You do not think me angry, Richard?" I asked, catching some of the
leaves, before they fell to the ground. "I once felt all that you
express; and I was doubly wrong; I was guilty of ingratitude, you only
of thoughtlessness."

"When does Mrs. Linwood expect her son?" he asked abruptly.

"Next summer, I believe; I do not exactly know."

"He will take strong hold of your poetic imagination. There is something
'grand, gloomy, and peculiar' about him; a mystery of reserve, which oft
amounts to haughtiness. I am but very little acquainted with him, and
probably never shall be. Should we chance to meet in society, we would
be two parallel lines, never uniting, however near we might approach.
Besides, he is a number of years older than myself."

"I suppose you call him old Mr. Linwood," said I, laughing.

We had now entered the gate, and met Mrs. Linwood and Edith walking in
the avenue, if Edith could be said t