“She is.  Will you walk in, sir?” The voice of Fanny trembled, though she strove hard to speak calmly and with apparent self-possession.

“My name is Mr. Willet.”

“Oh! our new neighbour.”  And Fanny forced a smile, while she extended her hand, as she added: 

“Walk in, sir.  My mother will be gratified to see you.”

“Has your father returned from New York?” inquired Mr. Willet, as he stood looking down upon the face of Miss Markland, with a feeling of admiration for its beauty and innocence.

“Not yet.  Mother does not look for him until the last of this week.”

“He did not expect to be gone over a single day, when he left?”

“No, sir.  But business has detained him.  Will you not walk in, Mr. Willet?” The earnestness with which he was looking into her face was disconcerting Fanny.  So she stepped toward the door, and led the way into the house.

“Mr. Willet,” said Fanny, introducing her visitor, as they entered the sitting-room.

Mrs. Markland extended her hand and gave their new neighbour a cordial reception.  Aunt Grace bowed formally, and fixed her keen eyes upon him with searching glances.  While the former was thinking how best to entertain their visitor, the latter was scrutinizing his every look, tone, word, and movement.  At first, the impression made upon her was not altogether favourable; but gradually, as she noted every particular of his conversation, as well as the various changes of his voice and countenance, her feelings toward him underwent a change; and when he at length addressed a few words to her, she replied, with unusual blandness of manner.

“How are your mother and sisters?” inquired Mrs. Markland, soon after Mr. Willet came in.  “I have not yet called over to see them, but shall do so to-morrow.”

“They are well, and will be exceedingly gratified to receive a visit from you,” replied Mr. Willet.

“How are they pleased with the country?”

“That question they would find it difficult yet to answer.  There is much pleasant novelty, and much real enjoyment of nature’s varied beauties.  A sense of freedom and a quietude of spirit, born of the stillness that, to people just from the noisy town, seems brooding over all things.  Some of the wants, created by our too artificial mode of living in cities, are occasionally felt; but, on the whole, we are gainers, so far, by our experiment.”

“Your sisters, I am sure, must enjoy the beauty with which you are surrounded.  There is not a lovelier place than the one you have selected in the whole neighbourhood.”

“Always excepting Woodbine Lodge,” returned the visitor, with a courteous bow.  “Yes,” he added, “Sweetbrier is a charming spot, and its beauty grows upon you daily.  My sister Flora, just about your own age,” and Mr. Willet turned toward Fanny, “is particularly desirous to make your acquaintance.  You must call over with your mother.  I am sure you will like each other.  Flora, if a brother may venture to herald a sister’s praise, is a dear, good girl.  She has heard a friend speak of you, and bears already, toward you, a feeling of warmer tone than mere friendship.”