A year has passed since the events recorded in the last chapter; things have gone on much the same, Everard trying to appear indifferent, while in reality he was not so, but succeeding so well that Isabel felt almost ashamed of her preference for him, and was, also, only too successful in concealing her true feelings. She is now paying Emily a visit, though it was seldom that she could be persuaded to accept any invitation. But in justice to her old friends, it must be said that they often endeavored to do so. Ever since she came to Elm Grove she had always received abundant invitations for the holidays; but, with the exception of the Morningtons, Isabel had never been able to overcome her pride sufficiently to visit, in her present position, those she had known when in such different circumstances. Harry and Emily, after travelling about for some time, had settled in H----, not far from the college, and had insisted upon Everard spending a great deal of his time with them, as they had fitted up a nice little study for his especial use. Emily was very anxious for the ordination, and had announced her intentions to hear him preach his first sermon, let it be when and where it might, in spite of his saying that he would go where he was quite unknown. "Now, Everard, I'm going to have a party on the fifth," said Emily, "and I want you to bring some of the students, and I should like very much to have tall, handsome ones, and none of your little 'ugly mugs.' I want particularly that nice Mr. Elliott you introduced to me the other day." "I do not choose my friends merely for their appearance, and Elliott is not one of the students," returned Everard. "Never mind who he is, I want him to come." "I will ask him if he is in town; but I can't come, I am altogether too busy." "Nonsense, Everard, you only say that to vex me. I mean you to come, that's pos'. Isn't he provoking, Isabel?" "Perhaps his business is as important as it was that Christmas," said Isabel, quietly. Everard looked up quickly from his book, but Isabel was fully employed with her tatting. "What do you know about my engagements at that time?" he asked. "Oh, nothing; only, perhaps, you can as easily put aside your work as you did then." "How do you know that it was so easy?" he inquired. "Only from appearances." "Appearances are often deceitful." "Very." Again the rapid glance of inquiry, but he could make nothing of her placid countenance; and the single word "very," it must have been his own imagination that gave significance to the very decided manner in which she had uttered it, or did she, indeed, see through his assumed indifference? "You speak as though you had some experience," he said. Isabel crimsoned, for she felt very guilty. "Do you try to appear different to what you are in reality?" he inquired. "Do you?" "Why do you ask?" he said. "Why do you?" she retorted.