“Well, Harrington,” said Mr. Tom Wharton to his friend one day, “since your object in bringing me down here with you is accomplished, I must now leave you to your fate.  What that may be, in the midst of attacks from spirits by night, and from more substantial persecutors by day, I cannot divine; but if there is anything left of you, I shall hope to see you in the city before long, and to hear the account you have to give of yourself.”

“I thank you for your services thus far, my dear friend,” said Mr. Harrington; “still, I think it would be the part of disinterested friendship to stay and help me a little longer.”

“I can’t—­I can’t stand it, Harrington. You may be able to bear it better; but I’m not used to this sort of thing, and I don’t know how to get along with it at all.  Your case is a hard one, I acknowledge, my friend; but having some business of my own to attend to, I must leave you to fight out your own battles.”  And Mr. Tom Wharton, resolutely closed his ears to his friend’s appeals, and took his departure.

A beautiful little boat which Mr. Harrington had ordered from the city having arrived, he called, one afternoon, at Mr. Fairland’s, to ask the ladies if they would take a sail with him upon the lake.  Most eagerly the Misses Fairland consented, and were leaving the room to prepare to go, when Mr. Harrington turned to Agnes, who happened to be in the room, and said: 

“May I not hope for the pleasure of Miss Elwyn’s company too?” Upon which Miss Evelina, with a childishly-confidential air, raised herself on tiptoe, and whispered in his ear: 

“It is not at all necessary to ask her:  we never feel obliged to, I assure you.  She is only governess to the children.”

But Mr. Harrington renewed his invitation, which Agnes had respectfully declined, when Mr. Fairland entered the room, and Mr. Harrington appealed to him.

“Go?  Certainly Agnes must go; she has never been on the lake in a sail-boat, and I have often heard her say she would delight to go.  Come, Agnes! put on your things without a word, and go along.”

Thus urged, Agnes consented to go, though she felt a little uncomfortable at the silent displeasure of the Misses Fairland.  There was a pleasant breeze, and the little boat flew like a bird over the dancing waves.  Agnes, a devoted admirer of nature, was in an ecstasy which she could not conceal, as one beautiful view succeeded another during their sail up the lake; but the other ladies were so much occupied in trying the effect of art, that they had no eye for the beauties of nature.  The breeze soon died away, leaving them far from home, and Mr. Harrington was obliged to take to his oars; and long before the village was in sight, the gentle moon had begun her walk through “golden gates,” throwing across the water a brilliant column of light, sparkling and dancing in glorious beauty on the gentle ripples of the lake.