“Oh, now,” thought the master of Greenlands, “I begin to understand why that young man blushed when he spoke of the privilege involved in his position here.” He glanced at the open book which lay under Mademoiselle de Bergerac’s hand, and was surprised to perceive that it was a duplicate of the volume he had seen in the hands of the student in the park. “You read Greek, Mdlle. de Bergerac?” “Yes, papa taught me a little Greek ever so long ago. Will you not call me Helen, please? I should like it so much better.” “I shall be much honoured if you will permit me to do so. And you are reading Plato, I see. Is he not rather a difficult author for a young student in Greek?” “Yes, he seems rather difficult, but I get a great deal of help. I am reading the Phædo with Mr. Thorburn, who is working very hard at the classics. I believe he means to try for his degree by and by, when he leaves papa. He has a German degree already, but he seems to think that worth very little. I think he is rather ambitious.” “He seems to be altogether a wonderful person, this Mr. Thorburn.” “Yes, he is very clever--at least, papa says so, and you know papa is very well able to form a judgment on that point. And papa likes him exceedingly.” “Indeed! and has he been long established here--domiciled with you, in his post of secretary?” “He has been with us about four months.” “May I ask where your father picked him up--by whose recommendation he came here?” “It was Mr. Desmond who introduced him to papa,--Mr. Desmond, the editor of the _Areopagus_.” “Ah! that Mr. Desmond has a knack of obliging one.” “Papa has considered himself very fortunate in finding any one able to take the warm interest which Mr. Thorburn takes in his book. It is rather dry work, you know, Mr. Jerningham, verifying quotations in half a dozen languages, and hunting out dates, and names, and all those petty details which used to absorb so much of papa’s time when he was without a secretary. Do you know that Mr. Thorburn has often travelled to London and back in the same day, in order to consult some book or manuscript in the British Museum; and he has taught himself Sanscrit since he has been with us, in the hope of making himself still more useful to papa.” The young lady’s face glowed with enthusiasm as she said this. To do service for her father was to win the highest claim upon her gratitude. Mr. Jerningham looked at her with a half-smile of amusement, which was not without some shade of bitterness. “I have no doubt Mr. Thorburn is an inestimable treasure,” he said, coldly. “I know a little humpbacked German who is a perfect prodigy of learning--a man who is master of all the dialects of India, and has the Râmâyana at his fingers’ ends. I am sure he would have been very glad to perform Mr. Thorburn’s duties for half the money my friend gives that ambitious young student; but my German is a perfect Quasimodo in the matter of ugliness, and your papa might object to that.”