Still, his visits were as constant as before, and his heart, when left to its own better impulses, was true to its first love. Months passed, and the young man's circle of new acquaintances grew wider and wider. Through the partial kindness of Mr. Harker who omitted no opportunity for introducing his student to people of standing in society, he found himself gradually making friends and associates of an entirely different class to those he had been in the habit of meeting. Attractive as he had at first deemed Mary Lee, he was fated to see her attractions waning before more brilliant young ladies of a fashionable education, and fashionable habits and manners. Thus the sun of his love grew dimmer and dimmer, until it ceased to shine upon his heart with the radiant warmth of earlier days. Mary appeared to change. He asked himself, sometimes, what there was about her that could have won his admiration. Her beauty was tame to what he saw almost every day, and in mind, manners, and accomplishments, she was incomparably below dozens of young ladies of whose acquaintance he could boast. At last, from being cold and reserved towards Mary, he began to neglect her. Weeks would sometimes be allowed to intervene between his visits. The thought of breaking his engagement with her, at first repulsed, was now seriously entertained; and as soon as entertained, reasons fully sufficient to justify the step were discovered. There were, of course, difficulties in the way, and he felt troubled. But there was too much at stake to give place to long continued irresolution. Before a year after his introduction into a higher circle of acquaintance had expired, his mind was fully made up to cast aside the loving heart that would have been true to him through life. CHAPTER IV. THE FIRST GREAT ERROR. THE youngest sister of Lawrence was much attached to Mary Lee, and met her frequently. It did not escape her eyes, that there was a change in her brother, and that Mary was unhappy. But the cause of that change had not occurred to her. That both her father and mother disapproved the selection which Lawrence had made, she was too well aware; but she approved it with all her heart, for she knew better than they did, and could better appreciate the virtues of his betrothed. One evening Mary Dunbar called upon Mary Lee, and surprised her in tears. Drawing her arm about her neck, she tenderly inquired the cause of her affliction. Mary Lee tried to evade the question, but the sister of Lawrence, connecting the unhappiness of Mary with her brother, pleaded so strongly for her confidence, that she could not resist the earnest desire she had to utter what was in her mind. "Lawrence is not what he was," she said, her tears flowing afresh. "He is changed, but not to you, I hope," returned the sister. "Yes, to me," replied Mary, after she had recovered herself enough to speak in a quivering voice. "I fear that he has ceased to love me. Weeks have passed since he was here."