it, but I must do it. O,
sister, you know--you do know--and you will pinch me so! Do, dear, good
Mrs. Adair, tell her not to pinch me, for I know I shall scream!"

"This is a strange account! We must have a little conversation, my
dear, in the evening. Correction, or advice, will have no effect
with you, Miss Vincent. You are not aware that your conduct will be
deeply impressed upon the mind of every young lady present: it will
be remembered when you have forgotten the circumstance yourself. I
shall expect to see you with your sister."

Mrs. Adair looked round upon her pupils with a countenance of affection
and concern. "Young ladies," she added, "it behoves you to conduct
yourselves in this house in a manner, that you may go forth into the
world with modest confidence, arising from the pleasing reflection that
you have fulfilled your duty in all things. Then, in future life, when
you unexpectedly meet a school-companion and friend, how pleasant will
be the greeting! And when I am old and infirm, should you recollect me,
and call upon me as the friend of your youth, how gratifying will it be
to my heart to think that I have been one means, in the hands of
Providence, of giving to society discreet and amiable women."

CHAPTER VIII.

The vacation now commenced. The physician had ordered change of air for
Jane, or rather change of scene: she therefore accompanied Miss Cotton
to spend a month with her parents. Elizabeth, however, would not accept
any invitation. Mrs. Adair was surprised at the circumstance, knowing
that young people are fond of novelty, particularly after the
confinement of a school.

"It is strange that you have refused all our friends," she said to her
daughter, "especially your old favourite!"

Elizabeth coloured highly. "My dear mother, teaching has given me the
wisdom to value a comfortable home. How quiet we are this evening! and
what a cheerful, blazing fire! and as for this tea, I think I never
tasted any thing so fragrant."

"And are these your reasons for remaining at home?"

"O no! but only think how pleasant it is to be free from monotonous
voices buzzing in one's ears! To-night I shall go to rest without the
fear of being disturbed 'with the sound of the school-going bell,' and
shall rise to-morrow an independent being."

"Ah, Elizabeth! is there no vexation, or lurking regret, dwelling upon
your mind? your countenance will betray you. Believe me, there are many
obstacles to