“The same.”

“I like her much, and should be pleased to see her again.”

“I am glad you do.  She is my ideal of a true woman, and one whom every young, earnest soul ought to know.  You will go to-day?”

“Certainly; I am anxious to see her in her own home.”

“She is queen of her domain, and entertains her friends in a most lady-like manner; but I must bid you both good-bye, and be off.  Be happy, Miss Vernon, Florence, and let me find you full of good things to tell of yourself and Dawn, on my return.  Good-bye.”

“Good-bye, papa,” rang out on the sweet summer air till he was out of sight, then the child’s lid trembled, the lips quivered, and she laid her head on the bosom of her friend and teacher, and gave vent to the grief which ever wrung her at parting with her kind parent.

“I am glad you did not let your father see those tears.  You are getting quite brave, Dawn.”

“I feel so bad when he goes.  Shall I ever be strong like you, and look calm after these partings?  Perhaps you don’t love papa; but every body does that knows him-you do, don’t you?”

“Very much; but we will go to our lessons, now, dear.”

“Can I bring my book into the hall, to-day?  I like to stay where I saw him last.”

“Certainly; and we will have a review to-day and see how well you remember your lessons.  We shall have no interruptions this morning, and after dinner we will go together to see Miss Evans.”

An hour passed, and the lessons were but half through, when a ring at the door caused them both to start, and they left the hall.

Aunt Susan answered the call, and ushered the visitors into the family sitting-room.

“Some ladies have called to see you, Miss Vernon,” she said, thrusting her head into the doorway of the room where teacher and pupil sat close together with clasped hands, as though some invading force was about to wrest their lives apart.

“In a moment, Aunty, I will see them,” and a strange shudder shook her frame.

“Where shall I go while they stay?” asked Dawn.

“Anywhere; only not far from home, as we intend to have an early dinner.”

“Then I will stay here, and look over papa’s folio of drawings.”

Miss Vernon went to her room to see that her hair and dress were all right, and then slowly descended the stairs to the sitting-room.  Her hand trembled violently as she turned the knob, and she almost resolved to go back to her room.  “I am growing so sensitive of late,” she said to herself, “but this will never do, I must go in,” and she opened the door.

Three ladies hastily rose and bowed very formally, as she entered.

The tallest and most stylish of the three blandly inquired for her health, and after a few commonplace remarks, announced the object of their visit.

“We have come to you, Miss Vernon, to-day, as friends of our sex, to inform you of, as you may not fully comprehend, the character of the man whom you are serving.”