this man, on their first meeting. She had experienced an instant
constriction about the heart, as if threatened with suffocation. The
shadow, too, about which Aunt Grace had spoken, had also been
perceived by her. But in a little while, under the sunshine of a
most fascinating exterior, all these first impressions were lost,
and, but for the words of Mr. Allison, would have been regarded as
false impressions. Too clearly had the wise old man presented the
truth--too clearly had he elevated her thoughts into a region where
the mind sees with a steadier vision--to leave her in danger of
entering the wrong way, without a distinct perception that it was
wrong.

In a single hour, Fanny's mind had gained a degree of maturity,
which, under the ordinary progression of her life, would not have
come for years. But for this, her young, pure heart would have
yielded without a struggle. No voice of warning would have mingled
in her ears with the sweet voice of the wooer. No string would have
jarred harshly amid the harmonies of her life. The lover who came to
her with so many external blandishments--who attracted her with so
powerful a magnetism--would have still looked all perfection in her
eyes. Now, the film was removed; and if she could not see all that
lay hidden beneath a fair exterior, enough was visible to give the
sad conviction that evil might be there.

Yet was Fanny by no means inclined to turn herself away from Mr.
Lyon. Too much power over her heart had already been acquired. The
ideal of the man had grown too suddenly into a most palpable image
of beauty and perfection. Earnestly did her heart plead for him.
Sad, even to tears, was it, at the bare thought of giving him up.
There was yet burning on her pure forehead the hot kiss he had left