ance regarding the worth of those we love.—I only wish you may not find your confidence misplaced."
And she raised her face, and gave me such a look of sorrowful tenderness as might have melted my heart, but within those eyes there lurked a something that I did not like; and I wondered how I ever could have admired them: her sister's honest face and small grey optics appeared far more agreeable;—but I was out of temper with Eliza, at that moment, for her insinuations against Mrs. Graham—which were false, I was certain, whether she knew it or not.
I said nothing more on the subject, however, at the time, and but little on any other; for, finding I could not well recover my equanimity, I presently rose and took leave, excusing myself under the plea of business at the farm;—and to the farm I went—not troubling my mind one whit about the possible truth of these mysterious reports, but only wondering what they