Jane was a little disconcerted, and Mr. Lloyd did not seem quite free from embarassment; but as he had roused her from her abstractedness, he began to expatiate on the approach of evening, the charms of that hour when the din of toil has ceased, and no sound is heard but the sweet sounds of twilight breathing the music of nature's evening hymn; he turned his eye to the heavens, which, in their 'far blue arch,' disclosed star after star, and then the constellations in their brightness. He spoke of the power that formed, and the wisdom that directed, them. Jane was affected by his devotion; it was a promethean touch that infused a soul into all nature. She listened with delight, and before they reached the house, her tranquillity was quite restored; and the child and father were both entirely satisfied with the pleasure she manifested in the improvement of her little favourite. But her trials were not over: after the lesson was past—"Dear Jane," said Rebecca, "why did not thee go with the party to-day? I saw them all go past here, and Mr. Erskine and Elvira were laughing, and I looked out sharp for thee; would not any body take thee, Jane?"
Jane did what of all other things she would least have wished to have done—she burst into tears.
The sweet child, whose directness had taken her by surprise, crept up into her lap, and putting her arms around her neck, said affectionately, "I am sorry for thee, dear Jane; don't cry, father would
