“At present I should be inclined to say he never would,” answered George, wondering what in the world it would matter to her and thinking she evinced little sorrow or consideration for the memory of Janey. “But time works surprising changes,” he added. “And time may affect Mr. Taylor,” Mrs. Brewster paused, “How do you think she looks, my poor child?” “Miserable” almost rose to the tip of George’s tongue, “she does not look well,” he said aloud. “And she does so regret her dear sister, she’s grieving after her always,” said Mrs. Brewster, putting her handkerchief to her eyes. I don’t believe it, thought George to himself. “How did you like Graytown?” she resumed, passing with little ceremony to another topic. “I liked it very well; all places are pretty much alike to a bachelor, Mrs. Brewster.” “Yes, so they are, you won’t remain a bachelor very long,” continued Mrs. Brewster with a smile of jocularity. “Not so very long I dare say,” acknowledged George. “It is possible I may put my head in the noose some time in the next ten years.” She would have detained him further, but George did not care to be detained, he went after more attractive companionship. Chance or accident led him to Miss Flint, a niece of Mrs. Brown. Miss Flint had all her attractions about her that day, her bright pink silk--for pink was a favorite color of hers--was often seen by the side of George Taylor, once they strayed to the borders of a river in a remote part of the village, several were gathered there, a row on the water had been proposed and a boat stood ready, a small boat, capable of holding very few persons, but of these George and Julia Flint made two; could George have foreseen what that simple little excursion was going to do for him, he would not have taken part in it; how is it no sign of warning comes over us at these times; how many a day’s pleasure began as a jubilee, how many a voyage entered upon in hope ends but in death. Oh, if we could but lift the veil what mistakes might be avoided! George Taylor, strong and active, took the oars, and when they had rowed about to their hearts’ content and George was nearly overdone from exertion, they thought that they would land for awhile on what is called Dark Point, a mossy spot green and tempting to the eye. In stepping ashore Miss Flint tripped and lost her balance, and would have been in the water, but for George who saved her, but could not save her parasol, an elegant one, for which Miss Flint had paid a round sum of money just the day before; she naturally shrieked, when it went plunge into the water, and George, in recovering it, nearly lost his balance, and went in after the parasol, nearly not quite; he got himself pretty wet, but he made light of it, and sat on the grass with the others. The party were all young, old people don’t venture much in skiffs, but had any been there of mature age, they would have ordered him home to get a change of clothes, and a glass of brandy. By and by he began to feel