l a quantity of the powder--though
evidently not from any lack of practice or dexterity.

Lilian has heard the concluding words of her sister's speech with some
surprise, and also noticed the abstracted air. She is about to ask for
an explanation, when the dialogue is interrupted. Wolf rushes past with
a fierce growl: some one approaches the clearing.

A horseman--a man of about thirty years of age, of spare form and
somewhat sinister aspect--a face to be hated on sight. And at sight of
it the shadow deepens on the brow of Marian. Her sister exhibits no
particular emotion. The new-comer is no stranger: it is only Josh
Stebbins, the schoolmaster of Swampville. He is their father's friend,
and comes often to visit them: moreover, he is that day expected, as
Lilian knows. Only in one way does she show any interest in his
arrival; and that is, on observing that he is better dressed than usual.
The _cut_ of his dress too, is different.

"See, sister Marian!" cries she in a tone of raillery, "how fine Mister
Josh is! black coat and waistcoat: a standing collar too! Why, he is
exactly like the Methody minister of Swampville! Perhaps he has turned
one. I shouldn't wonder: for they say he is very learnt. Oh, if that
be, we may hear him preach at the next camp-meeting. How I should like
to hear him hold forth!--ha, ha, ha!"

The young creature laughs heartily at her own fantastic conceits; and
her clear silvery voice for a moment silences the birds--as if they
paused to listen to a music more melodious than their own. The
mock-bird echoes back the laugh: but not so Marian. She has observed
the novelty as well as her sister; but it appears to impress her in a
very different manner. She does not even smile at the approach of the
stranger; but, on the contrary, the cloud upon her brow becomes a shade
darker.

Marian is some years older than her sister--old enough to know that
there is _evil_ in the world: for neither is the "backwoods" the home of
an Arcadian innocence. She knows the schoolmaster sufficiently to
dislike him; and, judging by his appearance, one might give her credit
for having formed a correct estimate of his character. She suspects the
object of his visit; more than that, she knows it: _she is herself its
object_. With indifferent grace, therefore, does she receive him:
scarcely concealing her aversion as she bids him the customary welcome.
Without being gifted with any very acute perception,