I hardly know whether he had any faith in her words—_I_ certainly had not, and when next morning she came down to breakfast in a loose wrapper, with a very languid look, I could not bring myself to ask her concerning the _blister_, which the livelong night had drawn nicely—on the back of the _fire-board_, in her room! As I expected, Mr. Delafield soon made his appearance, and after inquiring how his prescription worked, and if it had pained her much, he said, looking towards neither of us, “How would you like to ride on horseback with me out to Mr. Parker’s plantation? I have business there, and do not wish to go alone.” “Oh, charming!” exclaimed Ada, jumping up and clapping her hands in a manner but little suited to a blistered side; “that will be grand, and I can wear my new riding-dress, which fits so nicely.” “Why, Ada, what do you mean?” said Mr. Delafield, with great gravity. “My invitation was intended for _Miss Lee_. _You_ can’t, of course, think of riding on horseback with a _blister_. You must have forgotten it!” and his keen eyes rested upon her face with a deeper meaning than she could fathom. She turned very red, and for an instant, I think, half resolved to acknowledge the deception she was practising. But Richard Delafield was one who despised a falsehood, and she dared not confess to him her error, so she turned away, saying with a feigned indifference which illy accorded with the expression of her face, “Surely, I forgot all about it.” Alone in her room, however, she shed tears of anger and mortification as she saw us ride off together, and thought of the happiness from which she was debarred by a fancied blister, which had never come in contact with her flesh. But whether it drew upon her side or the fire-board, it in a measure wrought the desired cure, for seldom again did Ada attempt to deceive her guardian. Would it not be well if more of our modern young ladies should be blistered for the same disease that afflicted Ada Montrose. * * * * * It was nearly dark when we returned, and Mrs. Lansing and Ada were in their accustomed places upon the piazza, the latter holding an open letter which she had that afternoon received from her cousin Mrs. Johnson, who was spending some time in Mobile, and who wished Ada to join her there, before going on to New Orleans. They were evidently discussing the matter, and when we came up, Ada handed the letter to Mr. Delafield, bidding him read it and tell her what to do. Hastily running it over, he said, “Go, by all means: you have never seen Mobile, and it will be a good opportunity.” “But I have been thinking of giving up my visit to New Orleans,” she continued in a kind of beseeching tone; “Mrs. Lansing had rather I’d remain with her this winter.”