“No, dear Mark, believe me, it is not—it keeps me up.” “It exhausts, it prostrates you, my love—indeed, it must be closed—that school _must_ be closed!” By way of nimbly proving how strong she was, she arose to a sitting posture, arranged her hair by running her slender fingers through the ringlets, adjusted her dress, and sat straight up, while she answered— “Not for the world would I close that school, dear Mark. I have no children, and that school is my field of almost unbounded usefulness. Those girls are my children; and not only must I cultivate their intellects, but in every young, receptive heart I must sow good seed, that will bring forth fruit long after I am in”—— She paused suddenly, in embarrassment. “What do you mean, Rosalie?” he asked, in distress. “Dearest Mark,” she said, slightly evading a direct reply, “dearest Mark, a faithful teacher, called to the work, may not abandon her post, indeed; for oh! see how mighty the influence of a teacher may be, and how long it may last—the good principles instilled into a little girl’s tender heart do not conclude their work with her alone, but influence her children, and her children’s children, and all who come within her sphere and in theirs. Consider how mighty an instrument of good is set in motion by teaching aright one little child, and I faithfully try to teach forty. So, dearest Mark, hinder me not; but while I live, let me sow the good seed, that it may bring forth good fruit when I am—I mean when all this generation shall have passed away.” There was a pause, during which he held her hand fondly, and seemed buried in thought. “Dearest Mark, you look so careworn—have you had much trouble in settling our business?” He raised his head, and looked at her sweet, wan face. He could not, for his life, tell anything to distress her then; so he answered that Mr. Clement Sutherland was not yet prepared to give an account of his trust, but that all would be arranged before the close of the month. Rosalie arose, and putting her hands upon his shoulders, pressed a kiss upon his forehead, and was sliding away. “Where are you going?” asked Mark, detaining her. “To order tea, of course,” she answered. Suddenly Mr. Sutherland remembered Uncle Billy. “Stop, Rosalie,” he said, “I have got something to tell you.” And Rosalie sat down again; and Mark, in some painful and ludicrous embarrassment, related his meeting with Mr. Bolling, and the manner in which that impartial, disinterested gentleman had thrust himself upon him for life. “And where have you left him now?” asked Rosalie. “At Col. Garner’s, enjoying himself. Really, my dearest Rose, I feel very much annoyed that you should be troubled with this old man,” said Mark Sutherland, in a tone of vexation.