And now behold Sophie Churchill in her favorite sober brown silk dress, with her smoothly braided brown hair, seated at her desk presiding over her school, her large soft brown eyes floating serenely over the scene. Now no more ennui, now quickly fled the day, now pleasantly passed the week—the month. Is it a wonder that Sophie cherished in her heart a warm sentiment of gratitude towards the man who had wrought this favorable change in her life? The circle of her existence was vastly enlarged. Every Friday evening a horse and side-saddle would be sent by some one of her patrons to convey her to their house, where she was ever warmly welcomed, a loved and honored guest, to remain until Monday morning recalled her to her school duties. Once or twice during the week Emily May would accompany Gusty to school, and remain all day assisting Sophie at her labor. Nearly every evening now the pastor came, and gave her lessons in Greek and mathematics. Sophie felt so little “vocation” for these severe studies that nothing but the implacable will of her minister could have kept her to it. Worse than anything in her experience she dreaded his frown and his sure and stern rebuke when she had not accomplished her task—worse than anything except the steady searching gaze of his coldly brilliant green-grey eyes. _This_ froze the blood in her heart. And yet she felt grateful towards him; she blamed herself for her antipathy—her reason assured her that the _fault_ was not in _him_, but the _folly_ in _herself_. Her reason approved the pastor, the philosopher, the teacher—her instincts shrank from the man. With all this there was sometimes something strangely fascinating for her, even in his coldness, hardness, and harshness—a feeling, that if some element, she knew not what, were absent from his character, she might then meet his friendship—that something in utter discord with her own soul—that something that, speaking through his green-grey eyes, chilled and repelled her. Affairs were in this state when one Friday morning, early in June, Master Gusty May, on entering the school-room, marched up to the teacher’s desk with an air of importance, and handed her a note. It was from Mrs. May, and ran thus:—