“Intolerable old hypocrite!” muttered Wilder between his teeth. “The rascal has seen better days, and is now perverting his knowledge to juggle a foolish woman, to his profit. I am well quit of the knave, who, I dare say, has adopted lying for his trade, now labour is unproductive. I will go back The coast is quite clear, and who can say what may happen next?” Most of the foregoing paragraph was actually uttered in the suppressed manner already described, while the rest was merely meditated, which, considering the fact that our adventurer had no auditor, was quite as well as if he had spoken it through a trumpet. The expectation thus vaguely expressed, however, was not likely to be soon realized. Wilder sauntered up the hill, endeavouring to assume the unconcerned air of an idler, if by chance his return should excite attention; but, though he lingered long in open view of the windows of Mrs de Lacey’s villa, he was not able to catch another glimpse of its tenants. There were very evident symptoms of the approaching journey, in the trunks and packages that left the building for the town, and in the hurried and busy manner of the few servants that he occasionally saw; but it would seem that the principal personages of the establishment had withdrawn into the secret recesses of the building, probably for the very natural purpose of confidential communion and affectionate leave-taking. He was turning, vexed and disappointed, from his anxious and fruitless watch, when he once more heard female voices on the inner side of the low wall against which he had been leaning. The sounds approached; nor was it long before his quick ears again recognized the musical voice of Gertrude. “It is tormenting ourselves, without sufficient reason, my dear Madam,” she said, as the speakers drew sufficiently nigh to be distinctly overheard, “to allow any thing that may have fallen from such a—such an individual, to make the slightest impression.” “I feel the justice of what you say, my love,” returned the mournful voice of her governess, “and yet am I so weak as to be unable entirely to shake off a sort of superstitious feeling on this subject. Gertrude, would you not wish to see that youth again?” “Me, Ma’am!” exclaimed her élève, in a sort of alarm. “Why should you, or I, wish to see an utter stranger again? and one so low—not low perhaps—but one who is surely not altogether a very suitable companion for”— “Well-born ladies, you would say. And why do you imagine the young man to be so much our inferior?” Wilder thought there was a melody in the intonations of the youthful voice of the maiden, which in some measure excused the personality, as she answered. “I am certainly not so fastidious in my notions of birth and station as aunt de Lacey,” she said, laughing; “but I should forget some of your own instructions, dear Mrs Wyllys, did I not feel that education and manners make a sensible difference in the opinions and characters of all us poor mortals.”