As he was not there, I seated myself on a rustic chair to watch for him. I had not sat many minutes when I heard the wheels of a carriage on the gravel path; then the gay voice of Mr. Richard met my ear. I turned: he was seated in the vehicle with a valise beside him, and was apparently bound on a journey. As he caught sight of me, he raised his hat, bowed distantly, and drove off. A dreary sense of loneliness crept over me. The setting sun filled the west with its golden splendor. Great yellow bars of sunlight streamed through the railing, and lit up the floor of the piazza. Sitting there I was bathed in its ruddy flood. Happy birds poured forth their evening song in the bushes near by; but I was miserable and alone. All nature seemed to rejoice, while I, her child, was desolate. “You appear sad, miss,” said a voice close beside me. I looked up and beheld the elder Mr. Bristed. He had evidently observed my emotion, and his dark eye looked a reproof that his lips did not utter. Presently, he seated himself near me, and asked a few questions as to the progress my pupil was making. Having satisfied him on those points, he inquired kindly if I was lonely or discontented. “Oh, no,” I answered, heartily, hoping to place a barrier to any further inquiries on that point. “But you have been weeping,” said he, in a subdued voice. “Not because I am lonely,” said I, resolved to have the truth out; “but I fear I have wounded the feelings of your brother.” “My brother!” he repeated. “Ah! you have become acquainted with him? He is bright and glittering like the sun; but be careful, my child, be careful! Young birds should avoid the glittering steel of the fowler. But youth will seek its own experience,” he remarked, with a deep sigh. “No friendly warning will teach the young to beware of danger. But consider me your friend, Miss Reef, and let me likewise be your monitor.” Without waiting for my reply, he hastily left me and entered the house. CHAPTER V. Four weeks elapsed ere Richard’s return. During his absence Mr. Bristed showed his sympathy for my lonely situation by many little attentions; sending up to the school-room, now and then, choice fruit from his hot-house, or a bouquet of conservatory flowers, and, several times in the early evening, he sent for me to read aloud to him. I found him to be a quiet, polished gentleman; and I grew to like him, and to look for his tokens of kindness after my daily labors with growing interest, and, if they came not, to feel disappointed and unhappy. He had travelled much and could talk well, and under the influence of a sympathetic listener, his countenance lit up with kindly emotion, and the sad lines of his face disappeared beneath a happy smile. But in the glowing midsummer his truant brother returned, and my new-born interest vanished like snow before the harvest sun.