As they left the recess, Alfred Strickland,--who sitting close by had overheard almost every word,--turned lazily round on the sofa. "Well done for the schoolmistress!" muttered he, "by Jove! how she snubbed Vavasour. That last was a settler!" Robert Vavasour leant over Amy as she arranged the music and commenced playing. "You misjudge me, Miss Neville; but I hope a time will come when you will think better of me." "I do not think badly of you," replied Amy as he turned away. "Thoroughly snubbed! old fellow, eh?" said Alfred Strickland, as Vavasour passed the sofa where he still sat, "never mind, cheer up! and better luck next time!" "Did you speak, sir?" exclaimed Vavasour fiercely. "No, no, nothing of any consequence. It's chilly, don't you find it so?" "Very," replied Robert, as he passed on. Had Mr. Linchmore, as Mrs. Hopkins said, anything on his mind, or was he blind to all that was passing around him? Partly so; he had seen Vavasour's flirtation with his wife with uneasiness and displeasure, determined in his own mind to put a stop to it; but the scene suddenly changed. Miss Neville appeared, and he immediately transferred his attentions to her, or certainly a great part of them. For a short time Mr. Linchmore was puzzled, but ere long he set him down as that most selfish of human beings, one who systematically storms a woman's heart until it succumbs to him, and is all his own, when gradually and quietly he releases himself from his victim, and leaves her heart to break or recover as best it can. A female flirt is bad enough, but there are oftentimes excuses to be made for her. She becomes so from the force of circumstances, from undue admiration or a natural love of it; from some secret sorrow, or unhappy home, made so by a husband's desertion, something there must be to urge her on. But how many men glory in and boast of their conquests, and tell of the many hearts they have broken. How sad is the idea of some young girl, just entering life, made the sport of one of these. She surrenders her truthful, guileless heart, in all its first strong love, to him who she truly believes is all her young fancy ever pictured in her brightest dreams--all that is good and noble. Too late she finds out her mistake, too late knows she has been deceived, and her heart trifled with. She becomes in her turn a flirt, and her heart hard and callous. The world is no longer in her eyes the bright world it was, but a hollow, heartless pageant. Mr. Linchmore liked Amy. Should such be her fate? Should he sit quietly by and see her heart thus sacrificed, her peace of mind so destroyed? God forbid! If he had the power to prevent it; it should never be. So he watched her and Mr. Vavasour narrowly, determined to warn her himself.