THE PREMIUM. 167

her from what she had always regarded as a scene
of triumph. Her regret, however, was never
afterward permitted, we think, to degenerate into
cnvy of her more fortunate companions, or if it
did for a moment assume so dark a colouring, she
too sincerely loathed the fecling, and had acquired
too much power over herself to permit it to be
evident in look, word, or action. She took great
interest in Mary’s preparations, hearing her recite
her historical lessons again and again without
weariness, and even offering to assist her in her
composition ; an offer which Mary very honour-
ably declined, saying, “You know, Cousin Lucy,
it would not be my composition if you helped me
with it.”

A few days after this offer had been made and
refused, Mr. Lovett, on returning home somewhat
earlier than usual, found Mary alone, with a slate
before her, and a pencil in her hand. To his
question of “Where are your aunt and cousins ?”’
she answered, “They are gone to walk, sir.”

There was something in her tones which made
Mr. Lovett look closely at her, and he saw in an
instant that her face was flushed, and her lip