the whole expression so much of cold calm force, that it belied the debility of the frame. You saw there the evidence of a mind that was cultivated, and you felt that in that cultivation there was something formidable. A notable contrast to this countenance, prematurely worn and eminently intelligent, was the round healthy face of Oliver, with slow blue eyes, fixed hard on the penetrating orbs of his brother, as if trying with might and main to catch from them a gleam of that knowledge with which they shone clear and frigid as a star. At Frank's knock, Oliver's slow blue eyes sparkled into animation, and he sprang from his brother's side. The little girl flung back the hair from her face, and stared at her mother with a look which spoke wonder and fright. The young student knit his brows, and then turned wearily back to the books on his desk. "Dear me," cried Mrs Leslie, "who can that possibly be? Oliver, come from the window, sir, this instant, you will be seen! Juliet, run--ring the bell--no, go to the stairs, and say, 'not at home.' Not at home on any account," repeated Mrs Leslie nervously, for the Montfydget blood was now in full flow. In another minute or so, Frank's loud boyish voice was distinctly heard at the outer door. Randal slightly started. "Frank Hazeldean's voice," said he; "I should like to see him, mother." "See him," repeated Mrs Leslie in amaze, "see him!--and the room in this state!" Randal might have replied that the room was in no worse state than usual; but he said nothing. A slight flush came and went over his pale face; and then he leant his cheek on his hand, and compressed his lips firmly. The outer door closed with a sullen inhospitable jar, and a slip-shod female servant entered with a card between her finger and thumb. "Who is that for?--give it to me, Jenny," cried Mrs Leslie. But Jenny shook her head, laid the card on the desk beside Randal, and vanished without saying a word. "Oh look, Randal, look up," cried Oliver, who had again rushed to the window; "such a pretty gray pony!" Randal did look up; nay, he went deliberately to the window, and gazed a moment on the high-mettled pony, and the well-dressed high-spirited rider. In that moment changes passed over Randal's countenance more rapidly than clouds over the sky in a gusty day. Now envy and discontent, with the curled lip and the gloomy scowl; now hope and proud self-esteem, with the clearing brow, and the lofty smile; and then all again became cold, firm, and close, as he walked back to his books, seated himself resolutely, and said half-aloud,-- "Well, KNOWLEDGE IS POWER!" CHAPTER IV. Mrs Leslie came up in fidget and in fuss; she leant over Randal's shoulder and read the card. Written in pen and ink, with an attempt at imitation of printed Roman character, there appeared first, 'MR FRANK HAZELDEAN;' but just over these letters, and scribbled hastily and less legibly in pencil, was--