you could imbue me with some of your fondness for metaphysics and
mathematics," Mary replied, with a low sigh.

A momentary flush passed over the face of her companion, and they
descended the stairs in silence. The room in which the pupils were
accustomed to assemble for devotion was not so spacious as the
class-room, yet sufficiently so to look gloomy enough in the gray
light of a drizzling morn. The floor was covered with a faded carpet,
in which the indistinct vine seemed struggling to reach the wall,
but failed by several feet on either side. As if to conceal this
deficiency, a wide seat was affixed the entire length of the room, so
high

"That the feet hung dangling down,
Anxious in vain to find the distant floor."

There were no curtains to the windows, and the rain pattered drearily
down the panes.

The teacher who officiated as chaplain was seated before a large
desk, on which lay an open Bible. He seemed about twenty-four, his
countenance noble rather than handsome, if I may make so delicate a
distinction. Intelligence of the first order was stamped upon it, yet
the characteristic expression was pride which sat enthroned on his
prominent brow; still, hours of care had left their impress, and the
face was very grave, though by no means stern. His eye was fixed on
the door as the pupils came in, one by one, for prayers, and when
Florence and Mary entered, it sunk upon his book, In a few moments he
rose, and, standing with one arm folded across his bosom, read in a
deep, distinct tone, that beautiful Psalm, "The Lord is my shepherd."