that external fiend-like expression bearing certain indications of evil within, and which a wise Providence has designed to forewarn the innocent.
But as the serpent often unperceived aims its forked dart, so Melliphant lurking as it were in ambush, the deadly venom of his intentions was still concealed from the sight.
Lovely was the pure intellectual ray emanating from the countenance of Rosilia, as she turned over the leaves of the book, occasionally pausing to read some glowing passage that met her eye; but in none of which did she find aught that might be termed exceptionable, or calculated to injure the most susceptible delicacy. With the desire to know the author, she turned to the first page.
"Rousseau?" involuntarily exclaimed she aloud, which drew upon her the attention of Mrs. Belmour, who received the work from her hand; "If you have never read it," said she, "let me advise you to lose no time in doing so; what pleasure it will give you! so much sentiment, it cannot fail to delight you."
"I must confess," returned Rosilia, "my mind is so accessible to prejudice, that probably with me the author's name may be a sufficient inducement to conclude I should but lose my time in its perusal. Or, were I led to do so, I should think I gave to amusement only that time which might be much more usefully spent. The recommendations you give it, are certainly very enticing, but I trust such may equally
