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Rh desire of concealment; and she was soon able to add, "You have been so kind to us all.'" At this moment Mr. Glentworth's eye fell on a little pencilled sketch of himself. In her joy at seeing the original, Isabella had forgotten the copy. Again a bright scarlet passed over her face; and her companion, from that necessity of saying something which originates more subjects of conversation than any thing else, observed, "I did not know you had a talent for taking likenesses." "I never tried before," said Isabella, hesitatingly. "You ought to cultivate it," continued Mr. Glentworth. "Would you like to take some lessons?" "No," replied his companion; and then hastily added, "I should have no interest, unless the face were one I knew." Here, for the first time, the conversation languished. Isabella felt embarrassed, though she did not even surmise a cause, and Mr. Glentworth was thoughtful. "Do you know," said she, after a long pause, "I fear I am ungrateful; for I feel quite sorry that we have known you. What shall we do when you go away?—At least," added she, in a subdued tone, "we shall never forget your kindness." But the effort at forced composure was too much for the young and unpractised girl—her voice became inaudible, and she burst into tears. "My going is still uncertain," said Mr. Glentworth, trying to soothe her with the utmost kindness. "Ah!" exclaimed she, "how much happier we