"Indeed," cried Rosamond，"she is clever enough to be a governess in a high family，papa."

I thought I would far rather be where I am than in any high family in the land. Mr. Oliver spoke of Mr. Rivers- of the Rivers family- with great respect. He said it was a very old name in that neighbourhood; that the ancestors of the house were wealthy; that all Morton had once belonged to them; that even now he considered the representative of that house might，if he liked，make an alliance with the best. He accounted it a pity that so fine and talented a young man should have formed the design of going out as a missionary; it was quite throwing a valuable life away. It appeared，then，that her father would throw no obstacle in the way of Rosamond"s union with St. John. Mr. Oliver evidently regarded the young clergyman"s good birth，old name，and sacred profession as sufficient pensation for the want of fortune.

It was the 5th of November，and a holiday. My little servant，after helping me to clean my house，was gone，well satisfied with the fee of a penny for her aid. All about me was spotless and bright- scoured floor，polished grate，and well-rubbed chairs. I had also made myself neat，and had now the afternoon before me to spend as I would.

The translation of a few pages of German occupied an hour; then I got my palette and pencils，and fell to the more soothing，because easier occupation，of pleting Rosamond Oliver"s miniature. The head was finished already: there was but the background to tint and the drapery to shade off; a touch of carmine，too，to add to the ripe lips- a soft curl here and there to the tresses- a deeper tinge to the shadow of the lash under the azured eyelid. I was absorbed in the execution of these nice details，when，after one rapid tap，my door unclosed，admitting St. John Rivers.