"More probably he was too much accustomed to a lock-up house, to
find it pleasant. But if he really had any business here, we
shall hear of him again, no doubt," said Mr. Wyllys. The affair
thus disposed of, the conversation took another turn.

Mr. Wyllys, Elinor's grandfather, was decidedly a clever man. He
had held a high position, in his profession, until he withdrew
from it, and had, at one time, honourably distinguished himself
as a politician. He was well educated, and well read; his
library, at Wyllys-Roof, was, indeed, one of the best in the
country. Moreover, Mr. Wyllys was a philosopher, a member of the
Philosophical Society of Philadelphia; and the papers he read,
before that honourable association, were generally much admired
by his audience. It is even probable that Mr. Wyllys believed
himself endowed with a good stock of observation and experience
in human nature; but, in spite of all these advantages, we cannot
help thinking that, although well-versed in natural philosophy,
this excellent gentleman proved himself quite ignorant of boy and
girl nature. Even his daughter, Miss Agnes, feared her father had
been unwise and imprudent on an occasion which she considered of
great importance.

A great deal might be said in favour of Harry Hazlehurst. Few
young men, of his age, were more promising in character and
abilities. He was clever, and good-tempered; and, with all the
temptations of an easy fortune within his reach, he had always
shown himself firm in principles. There was one trait in his
character, however, which had already more than once brought him
into boyish scrapes, and which threatened, if not corrected, to
be injurious to his career through life. He was naturally