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 dear father looks, by the light of that fire, where he stands viewing the havoc of the game. He seems really melancholy, as if he actually thought that a day of retribution was to follow this hour of abundance and prodigality! Would they not make a fine picture, Louisa?"

"You know that I am ignorant of all such accomplishments, Miss Temple."

"Call me by my Christian name," interrupted Elizabeth; "this is not a place, neither is this a scene, for the observance of forms."

"Well, then, if I may venture an opinion," said Louisa, timidly, "I should think it might indeed make a picture. The selfish earnestness of that Kirby over his fish, would contrast finely with the—the—expression of Mr. Edward's face. I hardly know what to call it; but it is—a—is you know what I would say, dear Elizabeth."

"You do me too much credit, Miss Grant," said the heiress; "I am no diviner of thoughts, or interpreter of expressions."

There was certainly nothing harsh, or even cold, in the manner of the speaker, but still it repressed the conversation, for a moment, and the maidens continued to stroll still further from their party, retaining each other's arm, but observing a profound silence. Elizabeth, perhaps conscious of the improper phraseology of her last speech, or perhaps excited by the new object that met her wandering gaze, was the first to break the present awkward cessation in the discourse, by exclaiming, in all the richness of her animated and animating voice—

"Look, Louisa! we are not alone; there are fishermen lighting a fire on the other side of the lake, immediately opposite to us: it must be in front of the cabin of the Leather-stocking!"

For some cause or other, Miss Grant had kept