y one sensible course to take in this emergency
was to find out which way my own interests pointed, and to go that way
without a moment's unnecessary hesitation.

A very little reflection has since convinced me that she has a deep-laid
scheme against Michael Vanstone in view. She is young, handsome, clever,
and unscrupulous; she has made money to live on, and has time at her
disposal to find out the weak side of an old man; and she is going to
attack Mr. Michael Vanstone unawares with the legitimate weapons of her
sex. Is she likely to want me for such a purpose as this? Doubtful. Is
she merely anxious to get rid of me on easy terms? Probable. Am I the
sort of man to be treated in this way by my own pupil? Decidedly not: I
am the man to see my way through a neat succession of alternatives; and
here they are:

First alternative: To announce my compliance with her proposal; to
exchange addresses with her; and then to keep my eye privately on all
her future movements. Second alternative: to express fond anxiety in a
paternal capacity; and to threaten giving the alarm to her sister and
the lawyer, if she persists in her design. Third alternative: to turn
the information I already possess to the best account, by making it a
marketable commodity between Mr. Michael Vanstone and myself. At present
I incline toward the last of these three courses. But my decision is
far too important to be hurried. To-day is only the twenty-ninth. I will
suspend my Chronicle of Events until Monday.

_May 31st_.--My alternatives and her plans are both overthrown together.

The newspaper came in, as usual, after breakfast. I looked it over, and
discovered this memorable entry among the obituary announcements of the
day:

"On the 29th inst., at Brighton, Michael Vanstone, Esq., formerly of
Zurich, aged 77."

Miss Vanstone was present in the room when I read those two startling
lines. Her bonnet was on; her boxes were packed; she was waiting
impatiently until it was time to go to the train. I handed the paper to
her, without a word on my side. Without a word on hers, she looked where
I pointed, and read the news of Michael Vanstone's death.

The paper dropped out of her hand, and she suddenly pulled down her
veil. I caught one glance at her face before she hid it from me. The
effect on my mind was startling in the extreme. To put it with my
customary dash of humor--her face informed me that the most sensible
action which Michael Vanstone,