no prospect of future reunion.

All felt this approaching separation with more or less sorrow,
according to their varying natures; and some contemplated it with
deep regret.

The greetings, congratulations, and presentations were over, and
Madam Truxton, in all her stately elegance, had at last relaxed her
rigid vigilance, and the "finishing class" were free--free to wander
for the first time, and that first the last too, among the spacious
halls and corridors of the old school building, as young ladies.
Free to receive the smiles and addresses of the long-forbidden
cadets without fear of madam's portentous frown.

At length the sound of music rose upon the air. Knotted groups here
and there bespoke the preparation for the dance. Sets were forming
in drawing-rooms and halls, and impatient feet were moving to the
measure of the prelude.

"Miss Heartwell, may I claim your hand for the quadrille?" said
George Marshall, bowing before Lizzie at the presentation of Madam
Truxton herself.

"I thank you, I never dance, Mr. Marshall."

"Not dance! How's that?"

"Never learned, sir."

"That's stranger still. I supposed all of madam's young ladies