How could Gilbert cease to love her, when her soul was devoted to him; and had not the old man at last given his consent; and did not she long to tell him that, and make him happy with the unexpected consummation of their treasured hope?

Dorothy was very ignorant of Gilbert's real character. She had yet to learn that his mind was a reflex of his father's; that the same deep-rooted obstinacy formed the base of her lover's character. With a larger share of vanity, he also felt a deeper share of personal injury.

His animosity once aroused, was a demon very hard to quell.

Rushmere was often hasty and contrary, and pugnacious as a bull-dog, but at the same time, steady in his affections, and if unresisted in his angry moods, he came round of himself, often expressing the deepest regret for harsh or unreasonable conduct.

He was honest and truthful, and a just master to his servants; and Dolly loved and venerated the old man, for the sterling good qualities he possessed, and willingly forgave all the faults, often remarking, when her mother had been vexed by some blunt, fault-finding speech from her stern husband,

"Don't think of it, mother, you will always find some thistles among the finest corn. Father will forget it all before night."

This was true. Rushmere did not treasure his wrath, but his son Gilbert did.

The refusal Dorothy gave him to his father's face, was rankling still in his heart. When he left his home, it was not with any desire to spite his parents, especially his mother, to whom he was much attached, but out of revenge to Dorothy; for he well knew that in her heart he could not inflict a deeper wound.

Mentally and morally, Gilbert Rushmere was quite unworthy of her love.

Dorothy was so blind to this fact, that her great wish for educational improvement was in the hope that it might render her more deserving of his regard.

Her sensitive nature had been deeply hurt that morning, by the rough, unfeeling manner in which Mr. Rushmere had called her _his servant_. She tried her best to forget it, but the ungracious thought would again and again intrude.

"He might have spoken of me as his daughter, as he always calls me when we are alone. It was hard to degrade me in my own eyes before Mrs.

Martin," argued poor Dorothy. "I am not a servant. I receive no wages--ask for none. Their love I consider is sufficient reward. Perhaps it is my ignorance that makes father so averse to my marriage with Gilbert; but then," she continued, musingly, "if that were the case, he would not be so much against my receiving instruction. I do not believe that he really wishes us to come together, and it was cruel of Gilly to write of me in that careless manner, as if it were a matter of indifference to him my marriage with another.

"However, I mean to study in real earnest, to give my whole mind to it, and acquire all the knowledge I can. I feel a power within me, that has never been called into action. A something that is always waking up, and urging me to work out my own living, instead of depending on the charity of others. I have always tried to silence this voice--it seemed ungrateful in me to listen to it, but to-day it speaks to me in louder tones, urging me to lead a holy and useful life, and I now know," she cried, earnestly clasping her hands together, "that it is from G.o.d."

With this conviction, deeply impressed upon her mind, Dorothy commenced her studies with Mrs. Martin, who had conceived a deep attachment to her young pupil.

They got on swimmingly together. Dorothy's cheerful, hopeful temper and great patience, with the addition of an excellent memory, made the task of tuition light and agreeable to her friend, while the progress she made astonished her worthy preceptress, as much as it did Dorothy herself.

END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.