eans
amiable--a woman liable to take strong prejudices, I should fancy, and
stick to them through thick and thin, twisting everything into conformity
with her own preconceived opinions--too hard, too sharp, too bitter for
my taste.'

He made no reply, but looked down and bit his lip, and shortly after rose
and sauntered up to Miss Wilson, as much repelled by me, I fancy, as
attracted by her. I scarcely noticed it at the time, but afterwards I
was led to recall this and other trifling facts, of a similar nature, to
my remembrance, when--but I must not anticipate.

We wound up the evening with dancing--our worthy pastor thinking it no
scandal to be present on the occasion, though one of the village
musicians was engaged to direct our evolutions with his violin. But Mary
Millward obstinately refused to join us; and so did Richard Wilson,
though my mother earnestly entreated him to do so, and even offered to be
his partner.

We managed very well without them, however. With a single set of
quadrilles, and several country dances, we carried it on to a pretty late
hour; and at length, having called upon our musician to strike up a
waltz, I was just about to whirl Eliza round in that delightful dance,
accompanied by Lawrence and Jane Wilson, and Fergus and Rose, when Mr.
Millward interposed with:--'No, no; I don't allow that! Come, it's time
to be going now.'

'Oh, no, papa!' pleaded Eliza.

'High time, my girl--high time! Moderation in all things, remember!
That's the plan--"Let your moderation be known unto all men!"'

But in revenge I followed Eliza into the dimly-lighted passage, where,
under pretence of helping her on with her shawl, I fear I must plead
guilty to snatching a kiss behind her father's back, while he was
enveloping his throat and chin in the folds of a mighty comforter. But
alas! in turning round, there was my mother close beside me. The
consequence was, that no sooner were the guests departed, than I was
doomed to a very serious remonstrance, which unpleasantly checked the
galloping course of my spirits, and made a disagreeable close to the
evening.

'My dear Gilbert,' said she, 'I wish you wouldn't do so! You know how
deeply I have your advantage at heart, how I love you and prize you above
everything else in the world, and how much I long to see you well settled
in life--and how bitterly it would grieve me to see you married to that
girl--or any other in the neighbourhood. What you see in