"That, at all events," I said, with a lingering feeling of pride, "is a satisfaction of which it is impossible to deprive me." "Don't be too sure of that," replied Emily, with a gay and slightly sarcastic laugh. "We may have as many dramatic surprises here as in a tragedy. But, in the mean time, till papa comes up from the dining-room, do accompany me on the flute." She flew rather than walked, towards the piano, seated herself in a moment, and dashed into a florid piece of music, which it required all my skill on the instrument to keep up with. "Bravo!--bravo!" she said, at intervals; "you play beautifully. This is better than Hamlet. What would Fitz-Edward say--or Miss de la Rose?" I stopt. "Will you save me from insanity," I said, "or prevent me from thinking you a witch, by telling me how you know all those horrid names?" "Perhaps I'm a clairvoyante--perhaps you are magnetised; but go on--I can't lose the concert." So we played--turned over page after page--tried overtures, and operas, and dances--and took no note of anything, except what we were engaged on. Suddenly I was aware that we were no longer in the dark--the room was comfortably lighted. We were also no longer alone. While absorbed in our music, several persons had entered the room, and were standing behind our chairs in deep attention. "Capital!--capital!" cried a well-known voice, laying a hand roughly on my shoulder; "better a hundred times than your attempts on Shakspeare, or your triumphs at the Paragon Royal." I looked round, and saw my friend Catsbach, or rather Mr Tooks, for he was shorn of his foreign ornaments, and was an honest, plain-faced, handsome English gentleman. "You don't know Mrs Tooks," he continued. "Ellinor, my love, give your hand to Mr de Bohun." Miss Claribel stood before me, radiant with beauty, and leaning on Mr Tooks's arm. "You are his Ellinor?" I stammered, endeavouring to recall the story of Catsbach's woes. "You left him at the door of the church--he advertised for you in vain--went in search of you to a boarding-school at Guildford--" "And found her, my boy, in the act of going on the stage as Ophelia--wrote a penitent letter to this good lady, her aunt, Mrs Pybus--was accepted as a returned prodigal--and here I introduce you to our family circle:--my uncle, Mr Pybus--my cousin, Emily--my grandaunt, or grandmother, I forget which, Mrs Bone, from Bath; for she is my relation through my wife. And, now that we are all at home, we had better consult what is best to be done." We did consult, and the result was satisfactory. I declined the army--I declined the university--I accepted the chair in Mr Pybus's office, vacated by my friend Tooks. I was to continue my accompaniments in music, and my lessons in Latin and mathematics every Saturday, and determined to begin on the very next morning.